Sprout Creek stole my heart. 
I feel saturated by endless golden fields,

and clouds that resemble masterpieces of art
anytime you glance up.  My eyes are still full of this.  We didn’t wash our hair very much, we wore each other’s clothes, we didn’t complain or argue, and we were the best of friends.  We ended up one family.

I have known for some time now that my deepest relationships have been with places, not people.  I feel free to love places with the abandon of perfect trust in the natural course of time and the world, which will preserve a place or destroy it as time and the elements intended.  When I left to go home, I swept my eyes over the farm so tenderly.  It was for me a deeply spiritual place, laced inextricably with the main cornerstones of my religion:  animals, frolicking in the grass; friendship; and nature.