the farm

Oh, I have a lot of catching up to do with you from our time in England. We have less than a week remaining here, and there's much to be shared. I'll begin with a couple of stories about our idyllic (minus various bouts of illness) weekend in southwest England. 

After our long journey through villages and dark, mystical moors, we woke on Saturday to clear, blue skies and wide rays of sunshine pouring into our B&B farmhouse bedroom. Being November in England, we hadn't dared hope for anything other than rain, clouds, and fog. But this is what we woke up to, and we were delighted. 

We followed the happy light downstairs to eat a delicious, farmhouse breakfast cooked by our wonderful host & farm owner Lowenna. Oh, Lowenna. We grew to love her over the weekend - to the point that I nearly burst into tears when she gave me a hug, a kiss, and heartfelt baby blessings on our way out on Sunday. Everything on the farm felt relaxed and open, and we knew our home-cooked breakfast from Lowenna would fortify us for the day's ventures. But before beginning said ventures, we took a little stroll around the farm to wake our legs up and ground us for the day. 

On our stroll, we met many cows and sheep, a horse, two friendly sheep dogs, and two barn cats basking in the sun. I'm pretty sure one of the cats was Professor McGonagall on a weekend holiday away from Hogwarts - perched next to her broom and all. 

You should also know that this particular brown cow was full of dry humor. She stared at me head-on this way (peaking over the black cow's rump) for several minutes and would probably have continued to do so if I had not moved on. She never cracked a smile - at least not that I could see. But she knew very well that she was being funny.

I do think I see a little smirk in her face here. I had to walk up the path a bit to unveil it. The hungry black cow was an unwitting pawn in this little exchange - no doubt consistent with her personality either. She's quite simple really; she likes to eat.

If we had more time in the southwest, I would have been quite content to indulge in the pleasures of the farmhouse all day - knitting by the fire, strolling through green fields, listening to the jokes and stories of very silly farm animals. For example, Ben, the sheep dog, was bursting at the seams with stories he wanted to tell us. When we met, his coat was freshly and thoroughly splattered with mud, sheep manure, and grass stains.  He told us he wanted nothing more than to tell us about the adventure he'd had moving sheep earlier that morning. Or better yet, he really wanted to have a sheep adventure with us of our own. I told him I wish we could. Some ear-scratches from Baine and some deep, loving eye contact would have to do for now.  

Colcharton Farm in the town of Tavistock, Devon - a perfect little home for us last weekend. I wish we could have stayed longer.