photo: rooster at Slate Run Farm
Arriving at the working historical farm this morning, I am surprised to find myself alone. Sweet teacher has told me to meet the class at 9:30, but the only youngsters around seem to have fur and feathers. I discover the class is due to arrive at 10:00. Could it be? Just me? I spy a few solitary farmhands quietly doing morning chores. No rushing. No stressing. No conversing. Watching the people, watching the animals...I sense a rhythm...a dance of sorts. The Morning Dance of the Farm.
With camera in hand, I slosh around...first to visit the roosters and hens as they were the first to greet me as I walked up the path. Old Rooster must be confused as he keeps crowing. Perhaps he is trying to coax Sun out of her hiding place this morning.
Walking up the hill, I see the oxen having breakfast. Goats call to me from their pen. Geese saunter. Pigs, unseen, oink. I see a blur of creamy fluff out of the corner of my eye...lambs? Oh, I hope so!
Farmer calls to me. "Want to milk her?"
"Why, yes!" And a few moments later, I find myself straddling a little wooden stool ("will she kick?"), and milking gentle Miss Daisy.
I had no idea when I awoke this morning the gift that awaited me on a little farm just around the bend. Showing up expecting to herd children through the different aspects of 1880's farm life.
But instead, I got to dance. The Morning Dance of the Farm.
1 comment:
*Simple*, indeed. This made me smile. I am so glad for your morning dance- such a gift! I walked with you, breathed with you, listened with you... such pictures you paint with your words! Geese sauntering- love it!
(We have a confused rooster at the property behind us- he begins at two a.m.; I believe he's an adolescent, and since there is an older, wiser rooster already in residence, he's got to prove his mettle early... his "crow" even cracks like a teenage boy's! :D )
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