CC's Farm

Christian leaned against the hard wooden handle of a pitchfork and tore the sweat soaked bandana off of his forehead. “Gosh.” He said with a thick Southern drawl. “I sure as heck could use some lemonade.”

At that moment his wife of a hundred and seventy eight years came whistling Dixie out the front door, a red plaid tray bearing a huge pitcher of fresh squeezed lemonade and two empty glasses.

“Reckon it’s time you take a break.” She stood at the top step of the porch and smiled adoringly at her husband.

~sidenote: It is going to take everything in me not to have Jinxx pop into my head dressed like Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz and drawl out the words, “I reckon ya ought ta let shadows die” rinnow~

He grinned and glanced at the mountain that served as more than a backdrop to their quiet town, it was a reminder that their days were numbered and it kept things humble. There was always a thick cloud like fog around the middle of the mountain that shadowed the top. He’d always wondered what the peak of the mountain looked like but he wasn’t a mountain climber and didn’t know anybody that was.

The closest he’d been to scaling the summit was trudging up the lush green foothills with a tree branch in hand. He’d lost track of time that day and each time he tried to look over his town from the new height he’d reached on the mountain, the forest seemed to have grown in around him.

Christian was a wide open spaces kind of guy, corn fields were about as dense a space as he’d like to venture into but something about the foot of this mountain made him want to keep walking.

~sidenote idea: at the top of the mountain; unicorn utopia~

Notes

I find it difficult to write something not adventurous about CC.