The strong sweet scent of flowers fills the hazy air surrounding you. You roll onto your stomach briefly to breathe in the perfume, deeply inhaling the intoxicating pleasure as you roll back onto your back. The grass under you, although tickly, is soft and warm from the bright yellow sun hanging in the cloudless blue sky afternoon. You can feel its rays reaching for you, dancing on your tight, red sunburnt skin, which stings every time you move. Your hair feels bleached and brittle, but you still stay laying in the field. You think it might be time to head back inside, but deep down you want to stay, so you do. You roll onto your right, where you can see an old, brown, weather beaten farmhouse. You know the floorboards are rough and uneven, and there is little furniture, of none which matches. Different to your apartment in the city, which is filled with possessions and perfectly designed. This land is different to the city. There are no cars, no trams, no sirens, no trains, no screaming, no pollution and no noise. Here, the only noise is the breeze and the farm animals. There is no pollution, only a fireplace which this is only lit on cold nights. The field in which you lay is empty, save for the honey bees who are more interested in the brightly coloured flowers and the butterflies and dragonflies which you follow lazily with your eyes as you drift in and out of thought.
Your skin gets cool and although this is nice on your hot skin, the goose bumps are a sign that its time to head indoors, along with the sun sinking below the uneven horizon, illuminating the trees around and turning the clouds pink, red and orange. As it grows darker, the stars begin to shine and you pick out the star formed saucepan in the night sky, something you have done since you were a child. The crickets start their mating call and the owls wake in the nearby woods to hunt for their supper. You can hear their cries echo over the darkened land as you look around you, your eyes settling on the faint outlines of the crops in the next field. In the nearby farmhouse you can see the lights being lit, and silhouettes of people moving around, getting dinner ready. Your stomach growls at the thought of a hearty dinner as the grass around you becomes colder and colder, looking pale in the moonlight. You think it’s time to go back inside.
The walk back is not long, but you drag your bare feet through the long grass, savouring every moment in the cool but peaceful night. As you get closer the aroma of the food cooking in the farmhouse causes you to walk a little faster and you let senses guide you back. You stop as you are startled by the resident possum running across the gutter. The possum has kept you up for the past few nights and you hope that the possum will be too tired to make too much noise tonight.
Back inside, you can smell the vegetable soup cooking on the stove, which quickly replaces the smell of flowers. The fire is lit, as it is estimated to be a cold night. It warms your sore muscles that you had gotten from the horse ride this morning. It had been pleasant, until your horse had been spooked and it had taken off terrified. Your bones were jostled and smashed together and the insides of your legs are covered in bruises from where you were desperately trying to stop the horse from running and your hands are cut from holding onto the leather stirrups so tightly.
You take your place at the wooden table which is covered in a pale blue tablecloth. A lamp is placed on the table, creating a soft yellow glow on the surroundings and causing shadows to dance along the rough walls.
You savour your dinner, sipping your soup slowly so you can enjoy its taste. The quiet soon becomes laughter and chatter amongst you and your hosts, mainly about how your horse had run away this morning. You finish your soup and fresh light bread that had been smothered in creamy yellow butter. The chicken is carved up and passed around. It tastes delicious and it is hard not to eat it in a rush. Dinner finishes, and you are quiet because your stomach needs all the energy it can get to digest your large meal.
You say goodnight, and you walk clumsily down to your bedroom, your body sore and tired. The bed looks heavenly. You pull back the homemade quilt and slide in amongst the soft sheets and blankets. You close your eyes and are almost asleep. Your muscles welcome the comfort and you feel yourself drifting, drifting, drifting…
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