Country life is a life of satisfaction.
To wake up in the morning with chickens clucking softly, kittens playing in the grass, and the Pileated Woodpecker crying it’s haunting call through the misty pines. Walking through the dewy grass on your way to feed the ducks, strolling down the drive with the early morning warblers cheeping as you go by, and fresh animal tracks telling tales from the night gone past.
Country mornings are like a different world, far away from the noisy vehicles and the hum of the city life.
By late morning into the early afternoon, picking fresh blackberries, blueberries and wild strawberries is a peaceful job. Then comes deciding whether or not to attempt jam or pie first. Or perhaps a juice of some kind, though how to do that I do not yet know.
The warm, sunny afternoon shows all the beautiful wild flowers in bloom. A large bouquet of these in hand, strolling through the enchanted forest and meeting a handsome prince who lives only in my imagination. Perhaps I was wrong when I said people over-romanticized country living. There is a romantic sort of feeling when you pick your own fruits and vegetables, tend to your very own animals, and chop your own wood to feed your fire on the coldest winter nights.
On summer nights when the moon is shining bright through the oaks, and the breeze causes the leaves to cast dancing shadows on the ground, sitting on the front steps listening to the tree frogs and crickets is the best kind of lullaby ever created.
Sleeping with the window open, listening to the far-off train whistle and the “who cooks for you all” owl sitting in the tall fir right outside… sleep comes quickly and refreshes you for the next dewy morning when the romantic country routine starts over again.