“One must maintain a little bittle of summer, even in the middle of winter.”
― Henry David Thoreau
Last winter we lived on a farm in Fly Creek that had 20 of the most beautiful rolling acres I have ever lived on.
The property was owned by an artist and all through the fields and trails he had set up whimsical finds…
Broken mirrors (the thick vintage kind) in which you could catch a glimpse of the sky and tree branches and your own smile, a lovely wood and rope swing, the wood and rope so thick it was guaranteed to last decades, this chain, vintage glass bottles, all found objects just waiting to be found, again.
Each morning walk with the dogs was a discovery, if nature wasn’t enough there was art .
This land belonged to a certain man with art in his soul.
I could tell it was a labor of the heart, very personal, not meant for wider audiences, a conversation between a man and the universe.