These photos were taken over spring break. I spent the day at Tara's, and it just so happened that her dad was out of town and needed her to feed his cattle. I jumped at the opportunity to help, and by help I mean squealing with delight every time we ran across a calf (approximately every 2.5 seconds), then stopping to snap it's picture. I love that Tara, who had a real job to do, stopped and backed the truck up about thirty times so I could get the perfect shots.
I cannot put into words how much I desperately need, and crave, time in the country. Every single time I make the forty-minute drive to Tara's house, I feel my soul come alive as the city buildings fade away and the rolling hills come into view. When I feel myself burning out, the cure is simply this- get in the car, drive to the country. Sometimes it's Tara's house, for porch-sitting (some serious soul stories there) or four-wheeling (only my absolute favorite pastime on the planet). Other times I head to the Wichita Mountains to soak in the view from Mount Scott. When it's the middle of the week and I can't really escape, I just get in my car and drive until I'm out of town.
Living in the city takes it's toll- mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually. Lately, my neighbors from hell (that's another post in itself, one which I will spare you) have had me craving wide open spaces more than ever. There are, of course, advantages to living in town, and I am grateful for those. But as I get a bit older, I find myself wanting to go back to the pleasures of my rural childhood- afternoons and early evenings spent breathing in the fresh air, taking long walks or bike rides as the sun fades from view, pondering the wonders of the world while staring into a sky full of stars.