I walked in my front door, and kicked off my very caked with who knows what boots. Then, as I walked toward the shower, I literally peeled off my jeans, long johns, fleece, sweatshirt, and two shirts, finishing off with the three pairs of socks that had barely kept my toes from freezing off.
As I stood in the almost unbearably hot water, trying to convince the blood in my body that yes, my fingers were worth saving, I realized something:
I would miss being out there.
And, I do. As far as grueling jobs go, this is the most demanding one I've ever had. But there was something about being surrounded by such a beautiful landscape that seemed to put my whole self at ease. I remember one morning especially well: I had been sent out to fetch about 240 sheep from a steep, one-acre long hill. I trudged up there, my boots rapidly getting bogged down by the thick mud, and as I rounded around the flock, I paused to look around. It was absolutely beautiful. I was surrounded by soft rolling hills, dotted with these ancient looking trees, and farther, were purplish mountains that were capped with pines and snow. As I started to move the sheep down the hill, it started snowing lightly, and even though I ended up soaked from the tip of my nose down, I don't think I will ever forget how positively silent it was, save for my breaths, and the light footfall of the sheep. I felt so at peace out there. I felt at peace even in the barn, which was drafty and 37 degrees on a good day. After feeding all the sheep, I would sit back and just take it all in. The sweet smell of alfafa, the sounds of lambs playing, the birds that nested in the rafters. It was a very satisfying feeling and I couldn't help thinking that if I could, I'd do this for the rest of my life.
Maybe, a while from now, I'll get tired of the rushed, structured urban life that we're all expected to live, and go find that peace again.
1 comment:
You are weird, and should move to Ireland.
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