Summer Fields

Each morning the horses were let out of their paddock to graze in the fields. For the first few days, after breakfast, I went in search of them. The fields were large, with a copse of trees running lengthwise through them. The grasses were high and filled with bugs and flowers and sticky burrs that got caught on my pants and socks and in the horses’ manes. The horses roamed far and wide. When it was clear I wouldn’t find the horses and get back on time for our next activity, I stopped where I was and made drawings of what I saw right there.

When I went on my own, I was never successful at finding the horses in the time I had. But, I loved walking out in search of them. Each time I went, I got better at finding the pathways the horses made. And walking was much easier when I traveled on one of their paths. The fields were a gentle uphill away from the farm, and walking up there provided a view of the valley we were in. I could see the steeple of the Catholic Church across the road from the farm, as well as far away hills on the other side of the valley. It was quiet except for the buzzing of the bugs.

After a few unsuccessful missions, someone suggested I follow the horses out in the morning. A few days later, they were released to the pasture a little later than usual, and I followed them.

At first I gave them a lot of space, drawing from far away. As I got more comfortable, I edged closer, they were aware I was there as I drew nearer. One got curious and came to check me out. She nuzzled me in a friendly fashion, and stayed close. The rest of the group started to drift towards me. And then, suddenly, all six were right around me. I got nervous then, what would I do if they all wanted to nudge me at once? I knew they wouldn’t hurt me, but after a few minutes I went in from the fields.

Sleeping

Sleeping in the yurt was quite comfortable. We each had plenty of space, a thick pad to sleep on and extra pillows and blankets, left by previous residents, to use. The first night we were there, in the early morning hours, a major thunderstorm rolled over the farm. It crashed and banged and rained hard. The yurt lit up with lightning. I lay there, exhilarated by the storm and nervous. Was a yurt a safe place to be? But, leaving the yurt and crossing the yard to the buildings did not seem like a good idea, so I stayed in bed and hoped for the best. Eventually the storm quieted and I slept again.

Each morning at 5 am, the Catholic Church across the road from the farm rang its bells. This was no subtle, one or two rings to mark the morning hour. Those bells rang and rang and rang, intending to wake the town. I always went back to sleep. At 6 am the Protestant Church at the other end of town (a block away) rang. These were much more modest and were quieter for being further away, still, I often heard them. Lastly, despite it having been light since at least 5 am, at 7, the rooster next door crowed, and every time, despite the earlier bells, I called him an asshole. And then I got up. Our hosts told us that they hardly noticed the bells after living near them. I didn’t believe that was possible. However, by the last few days of the residency, I couldn’t remember waking up to the 5 am bells.

Conclusion

My time at HARP was rejuvenating, I enjoyed the people, the horses, and the place very much. I felt alive in the world while I was there. I hope to go back sometime and see how the program evolves.