I’ll never get any real work done if the light is always this prefect. We camped at the farm. There was a mist hanging over the fields in the morning when we woke up, and the sunrise was breathtaking. We are so unaccustomed to this much nature, it feels like we are on vacation. (Reality check: after the sunrise Nate roofed shabby buildings all day and I hauled junk to a dumpster the size of a 2 car garage for like, 8 hours.)
The kids realized that they could make things out of cut hay, and that was hours of entertainment. And itching. Hand stacked hay in changing light will forever be French/Monet to me.
These are the objects I’ve found so far, laying around in various outbuildings. The keys go to the actual 100-year-old, wooden doors (unpainted, hallelujah) throughout the farm house. The white peeling door below is on the garage.
One of our new, kind neighbors brought us apples from the orchard. They are so crisp and sweet I am swearing off store bought apples; they are not even the same fruit! The rose hips are from a large patch I found and cut along our long drive. I have high hopes of learning to make a wreath. (but they are so thorny I’m intrigued how people do it?!) and the pumpkins were the big surprise! The kids collected bags of them growing out of the compost heap. You would have thought it was Christmas.
My lab is the happiest I have ever seen a dog be… heaven. And the burrs? I meditatively photographed them, wondering how I will not spend an hour a day picking them from long haired girls, sweaters, and dogs. We looked like a monkey family around the campfire, all picking at each other. Blissfully picking. Entry into farm life: so far, so, so good.
Ann Arbor Farm Studio