I'm missing the mountains. Here's an entry from my writing journal, maybe you'll like it, maybe you won't, but it's from the soul of a gypsy who just so happens to be a farmer's wife.
"I walked out of the mountain house this morning to the strong smell of rain and flowers. The frogs were already singing their song to let each other know that a storm was coming. It's so empowering to feel in tune with nature. I can almost feel the energy of the farm pulsing through the mountains. I walked Baxter to the edge of the yard and stood at the fence overlooking the pastures, the creek, and the ponds. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of nature.
The waterfall at the end of the drive roared from the rain last night, a cold breeze made its way through the mountains and I pulled my sweater a little tighter and thought of how beautiful the waterfall would be at this moment. I pulled my combat boots on and walked Baxter down to the waterfall. I slid under the fence and my sweater caught on the barbed wire. I let out a frustrated grunt and slowly and methodically unloosened my sweater from the wire and slid on down to the water, literally my boots slipped on the rocks.
I found a nice spot by the rushing water and I got Baxter calmed down enough from all the excitement to sit him beside me. He chewed on a stick while I allowed myself to soak in the moment. The water was so peaceful and beautiful rushing by me. It was freezing cold so the last thing I wanted to do was put any part of my body in it, but I did think of how it may be during the Summer to be here in this very spot with my toes wriggling in the chilly water.
That's when I felt a drop of rain hit my shoulder. Then another, and another and by the time I got up to crawl back up the embankment the sky let loose of all the rain it held within and began soaking me and all of the mountain. I grabbed Baxter and crawled up the rocks to the pasture and Baxter and I began our journey back to the house watching our steps so as not to step in any cow poop. When we made it to the front porch my curls stuck to my face and rain rolled down my face like tears. Baxter shook and I slung my boots off and we sat there watching the rain pour from the sky.
It was beautiful. I wish I could've bottled up that moment and saved it forever but you can't do that. So I wrote it here in my writing journal. Now it is forever."
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