This weekend I went to a remote Bed & Breakfast out on a peninsula by the Pacific coast. It was on a ranch, 20 miles from the nearest town, and I woke up in the morning to the sounds of chicken and geese yapping about in the courtyard. A very, very muddy courtyard, by the way. Rubber boots became a must.
Hearthy contry breakfasts, cats and dogs everywhere, llamas to feed, pigs, cows and a newborn calf to admire, and a bull you'd better leave be... It wasn't exactly city life, and it was wonderful. I got to breathe, and to do some thinking.
I went for a walk in the rainforest, on the one day it didn't rain, and it was a magical experience, seeing the sun filtering through the moss clad crowns of enormous Sitka Spruce trees.
On my way back to the B&B, I was also treated to the view of four elk crossing the road. They stopped, stared at me, and just ducked their head and munched away on their green roadside lunch.
In the evening, after dinner, I also got to read. I've read a third of Burning Bright now.
I'm learning about circus life, early friendship and the discovery of books by children who hardly have had any schooling.
There is also the painful reading about dysfunctional families, and hurt souls...