farm

when loving hurts

when loving hurts

Tonight the sun is glowing orange, painting red and purple lines across the mountains. I took my camera and walked the farm with the cool of the day at my back. I was snapping photos of the pigs and the donkey and Kitkat and the way the light shimmered through the hay fields, enjoying the…

The Blue Barn

The Blue Barn

The barn is blue. Half a dozen bright tarps strung from rafters and held firm to the floor with bales of hay. All the animals are in one corner, held in place by blue walls. The numbers are so few, they are being watered by hand. They do not produce enough body heat to keep…

starless wonder

The stars and moon are shrouded by clouds. Sounds of a banjo playing leak from the barn. Sunday night. My husband’s smile. “The cows make more milk on bluegrass,” he says. I step from the barn and a few stray sprinkles of rain dance across my skin. They are cool. I smile into darkness. The…

[before.winter]

[before.winter]

He grips my hand as we step out of the barn. It was another late night milking. Part of getting ready for winter. Using every bit of daylight to do field work. We’re almost to the house when I feel his tug. I step off the rough rocks of the driveway into soft grass. “Come…

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