The land is in full bloom with dahlias and tulips leave colorful spots in the green. Flowers and trees adorn the land, making me feel I am in the middle of a jungle, rather than a few miles from the city. My mother's love of fruit trees and mine for succulents show themselves in the wide spread greenery. As I gaze at the garden, the faces of roses smile up at me, imparting happiness. The sweet smell of jasmine mingles with the breeze. Brazen rabbits hop across the grass as my dog eyes them suspiciously. The chickens cluck from the rickety enclosure that protects them from the unfriendly visits of coyotes. As I close my eyes, the music of birds crafting their songs and the distant bleating of a goat mingle with my thoughts and replace all that is stressful with serenity and calm. My mind is clear, my negative thoughts purged. As night falls, the clear skies, peppered with stars, take away any remaining anxiety. I am content. I have found my haven.
In the spring of 2009, when I first learned my parents had bought a small parcel of land, I was excited. I painted an image of myself lying in the crisp grass and smelling the flowers sprinkled across the fields. But when I arrived at the site that first Sunday, my Sound of Music portrait was shattered. Instead of green grass and alpine flowers, I found empty Coke cans. White plastic bags, tangled in stubborn weeds that choked the hills, fluttered noisily in the dusty breeze. Every Sunday, we would drive forty miles to the decrepit plot, and every Sunday, I dreaded it.
I remember one especially terrible Sunday, when I had gotten a low grade on an English essay into which I had poured my soul into. I simply wanted to be alone; I certainly did not want to drive to the middle of nowhere to be deprived of electricity and running water. But instead I was handed gardening gloves and sent out to the expanse. I complained, but even the blazing 1 o'clock sun could not dampen my parents' enthusiasm.
In a few grueling months of labor and prodding from my parents the land was transformed. The weeds were replaced with grass and the garbage with rows of blood red beets and crisp lettuce. The change in the land paralleled a shift in my views of the ranch. In the process of weeding and potting, I had started to enjoy the smell of the earth and music drifting over the land. I found catharsis in the ability to convert the barren piece of land into something meaningful. I felt a sense of comfort here and was enchanted by the light bulb sky and rolling hills.
In addition to the sanctuary this land has provided me, it has also given me the means of connecting with the world outside of my little one. It has given me a holistic perspective of the world I find extremely meaningful and imparted in me an appreciation for life. One person who has broadened this perspective is our ever-smiling neighbor Cornalio. His home, behind a little front yard adorned with a mixture of tools and toys, lies on the edge of the ranch. Despite having to rise with the sun to work and return only when night sets, he always seems full of energy and life.The ease with which he smiles has taught me to be happy and not fret over the little things, like a bad grade on one essay. From Conalio I have learned there are many types of people with attributes anyone can learn from.
Having always been a city girl, I am delighted to have found a companion in nature. The textured appreciation this little plot has given me, teamed with the escape it offers, has made our family's little ranch my sanctuary.
In the spring of 2009, when I first learned my parents had bought a small parcel of land, I was excited. I painted an image of myself lying in the crisp grass and smelling the flowers sprinkled across the fields. But when I arrived at the site that first Sunday, my Sound of Music portrait was shattered. Instead of green grass and alpine flowers, I found empty Coke cans. White plastic bags, tangled in stubborn weeds that choked the hills, fluttered noisily in the dusty breeze. Every Sunday, we would drive forty miles to the decrepit plot, and every Sunday, I dreaded it.
I remember one especially terrible Sunday, when I had gotten a low grade on an English essay into which I had poured my soul into. I simply wanted to be alone; I certainly did not want to drive to the middle of nowhere to be deprived of electricity and running water. But instead I was handed gardening gloves and sent out to the expanse. I complained, but even the blazing 1 o'clock sun could not dampen my parents' enthusiasm.
In a few grueling months of labor and prodding from my parents the land was transformed. The weeds were replaced with grass and the garbage with rows of blood red beets and crisp lettuce. The change in the land paralleled a shift in my views of the ranch. In the process of weeding and potting, I had started to enjoy the smell of the earth and music drifting over the land. I found catharsis in the ability to convert the barren piece of land into something meaningful. I felt a sense of comfort here and was enchanted by the light bulb sky and rolling hills.
In addition to the sanctuary this land has provided me, it has also given me the means of connecting with the world outside of my little one. It has given me a holistic perspective of the world I find extremely meaningful and imparted in me an appreciation for life. One person who has broadened this perspective is our ever-smiling neighbor Cornalio. His home, behind a little front yard adorned with a mixture of tools and toys, lies on the edge of the ranch. Despite having to rise with the sun to work and return only when night sets, he always seems full of energy and life.The ease with which he smiles has taught me to be happy and not fret over the little things, like a bad grade on one essay. From Conalio I have learned there are many types of people with attributes anyone can learn from.
Having always been a city girl, I am delighted to have found a companion in nature. The textured appreciation this little plot has given me, teamed with the escape it offers, has made our family's little ranch my sanctuary.