Utente ospite
31 gennaio 2023
The three, friendly goats were not supposed to greet us outside the inn. They had escaped from an enclosure and excitedly ran down a slight hill, their neck bells jingling. Tory, the owner, immediately appeared and gently herded them back up the incline. This was just one of many memorable moments at the Farmhouse Inn. A weekend in VT was not my idea and this bnb was not my first choice. So, I never expected to end up fantasizing about moving in. On the second night, our restaurant plans fell through. After a a simple, makeshift dinner I was washing plates in the old kitchen. Tilly, the gray, house cat, appeared and tapped her soft, white paws on the window above the sink. It felt so natural to stand on a wooden chair to let her in. Like I did it every day. Out on the grounds, we wandered by tall, sturdy trees and lilac bushes full of heart shaped leaves, all planted decades ago. In his barn stall, Yuma, the horse, gigantic and gentle, searched our palms for treats. Back home for a few days, I look at a photo of Tilly sprawled across a window table on top of our half done jigsaw puzzle. She dozes in the warm sun, and across the lawn, Yuma grazes in the green fields his thick tail slowly waving back and forth.
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