Dear Farm Journal,
Effulgent daylight mounts the morning, bathing the farm in a golden gloss. I gather my yoga mat and hammock and join the songbirds, soaking in the brilliance of the dawn, silently singing my song of thanks. Rufus asks me if I’m attempting to re-do “Self Care Sunday” and I flash him a diverted glance. “Just try not to break any bones”, he teases. I giggle and assure him I’ll take the utmost care. I stretch, meditate, lounge, read, and work my way around the gardens in admiration. I’m working on a new limping style, since I can put weight on the ball of my foot now, more swagger and a tick quicker. As twilight takes the helm, we lavish ourselves with food love; verdant greens, savory spinach broccoli soup, and fried bass. Now that’s self care.