Earlier this week, I visited friends at their New York farm.
No, not New York City.
I know, I know. When you are from somewhere other than New York (the state), you nearly always think that people are referring to the city when they say “New York”. But there really is a whole state called New York.
New York City is just a dinky little part on the bottom right when you look at a map.
I know. It’s a lot to take in.
I’ll give you a minute to collect yourself.
My friends do not live in New York City.
And I know this, not only by the absence of skyscrapers and horns and morning-bagel-carts-that-magically-change-to-pretzel-carts-in-the-afternoon.
I know it because I also don’t have to cross a certain, highly-terrifying bridge when I go visit them.
So, instead of having to take my life in my hands and follow precarious road-sign directions across a double-decker I-always-get-the-lane-wrong-and-end-up-on-the-tractor-trailer-level bridge? I got to blissfully glide the therapy car (the Nearly Perfect Husband’s fourteen year-old little, blue sporty convertible) through New Hampshire’s gently curving roads, past mirror-y lakes, up and over Vermont’s late summer and still-green mountains, and past a sign welcoming me to New-York-not-the-city.
And I reconnected with my friends in person after having not seen them in a while, and we yakked and brushed animals and yakked and ate great food and yakked and drank sweet wine and yakked and yakked and yakked.
And very early the next morning after an awesome sleep, I woke up early to sounds of their New York’s sheep and chickens, vs. city New York’s horns and sirens.
And what’s a gal to do with that, but pull on the ol’ sweats, grab her camera, and sneak outside to chase some upstate New York morning light.
I had this wHierd, sort of opposite version of Good Night Moon running through my head the entire time:
Good morning field.
Good morning lace(s).
Good morning sheep, with your morning faces.
Good morning back.
Good morning front.
Good morning side.
And things that grunt.
Good morning Dahlia.
Good morning air.
Open up to the light.
Thanks for readin’.
As always, you can come on over to Just Ponderin’s Facebook page to comment or just hang out.
And, of course, a nod and a thanks to Margaret Wise Brown, who wrote Goodnight Moon. The rabbit who was the old lady whispering, ‘hush’ always kind of freaked me out. She was like a rocking librarian. Too serious and too bossy. But other than that, I loved it.