Today my friend was talking about her childhood growing up on a farm in Wisconsin. It was the nice, old-fashioned kind of farm. As a teenager she always had to pitch in with the farm chores - baling hay, feeding the llamas, fixing fences. She said she wasn't much into it then, but now she feels nostalgic for it, and she'd love to spend a summer back on the farm.
I've never had that kind of life. But I feel like I miss it too - maybe just the idyllic partial glimpses I've gotten of it, which I know don't show the whole picture. Sun glinting off fields in the late afternoon. Tree shadows throwing speckles across a creek. The warm smell of grass and manure and large animals, that hearty crunching of molars as a horse grinds its hay. Swallows flying out from the barn eaves and curvetting around in the dusk. I wish there was room in my life that I could even incorporate a few of these things in. I'm so disconnected from everything real like that.
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