These early days of September are imbued with their own brand of wonderful capable of bringing me to my knees with prayerfulness and filling me with a sense of home. The sounds of late summer include the rustle of the fields as they begin to put on their winter coats of brown and yellow while all the while the crickets hum their anthems to being here. The firmament is an infinite shade of blue and the sun has a warmth that is incomparable any other time of the year.
Today was one of these days and Maisie and I spent the morning with Jess and Eliot at Little Alaska Farm. There is nothing like the pungent waft of poultry and fowl excrement to awaken your senses and feel closer to the land.
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