Yesterday afternoon I ran by the farm to pat the donkeys and join Jer for a moment around the campfire. Tossed my boots in the tackroom in exchange for knee-high work boots. Turned and caught the sun's rays, setting behind the hill, throwing light into the chaos of our little workspace. The epitome of hope and some ambition: broken and patched tools, halters never worn, repaired wooden floorboards, and boots tossed down in the excitement of getting out to the land. It don't get much better than that.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Afternoon
Yesterday afternoon I ran by the farm to pat the donkeys and join Jer for a moment around the campfire. Tossed my boots in the tackroom in exchange for knee-high work boots. Turned and caught the sun's rays, setting behind the hill, throwing light into the chaos of our little workspace. The epitome of hope and some ambition: broken and patched tools, halters never worn, repaired wooden floorboards, and boots tossed down in the excitement of getting out to the land. It don't get much better than that.
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