When You Live Outside

When you live outside, Second Breakfast and Elevensies just seem right.

Between the fields are a few wooded paths that each have snacking spots built right in. Raspberries, apples, lemony sorrel, pears, and blueberries. There’s honeycomb, as well, but I’m not willing to have an argument with the bees to get it.

At the west end of the farm where I work is a blueberry farm, upon whose hill I like to sit and watch the sunset. Sometimes I sit with friends, other times it’s just me with the bees and circling hawks. Sometimes there’s a beer or a handful of berries to sweeten the moment. More often than not, there comes that time when all eyes are drawn to quietly take in the brilliant colors of the golden hour.

I adore the fact that my living room has a dirt floor and a sky ceiling. A vast room without walls, but trees and shrubs, and birds and bugs. Where furred and feathered roommates lurk when I’m not around.