I Chose to Bow

A Day Like No Other

This world is a beautiful place to a farmer. Beautiful, frustrating, and filled with potential. The earth we walk upon is a catalyst for life that we cannot yet see, the water that flows in streams beside us bears health in its rushing wake, the very sun that glows upon our skin shines with the gift of strength. The animals that graze or prowl each contribute to the growth of natural life in their own ways, and the wind that blows across the land carries seeds from who can say to be set down who knows where. This world is a beautiful place to a farmer.

In a northern country, where the sun shone warm most of the year and winter snows lasted only three months before they were gone again, lay a valley. Surrounded by a mountain range on one side, an enormous forest beside it and a wide rushing river spanning its other side, it was a peaceful place. And most of it was cultivated. Almost six acres of farmland stretched out behind a house big enough to hold a small family. In the fields, lit by the beams of a setting sun and patiently leading a tired horse home, was a man. His shoulder-length blond hair, scruffy beard and deep blue eyes attested to the Northern blood in his veins, and the hands that gently tugged the blue roan forward were large and strong. "Come on, mate," he murmured, as weary as the animal he led, "we're almost home."

The horse nickered and pushed its nose into his hair, stepping forward a little more briskly. The man laughed, "Noooo! You'll get my hair all wet, stop that!" Playfully he pushed the horse's face away, but the roan merely butted him again. They continued to play as they ambled home, the man looking forward to whatever supper his wife had cooked, the horse to hay and a sweet-smelling stall to sleep in.

They reached the stable at last, where the farmer removed the harness and bridle from the weary animal and hung them up each on their assigned hooks. He brushed the horse down and ensured its feed box was filled. "You've got water?" He muttered. "Yeah, you do." He would rake out the hay tomorrow when he had...actual energy. For now, he took down one of the blankets from a nearby shelf and spread it over the horse's blue-grey back, for springtime nights could be cold in this place. "Now remember it's me and don't kick, yeah?" He said, patting the animal's side and pulling over a stool to check its hooves.

The sun had set by the time the man finally emerged from the stable, with strands of hay and the smell of horse and human sweat clinging to his rough clothes. He stood for a moment in the dooryard, looking up at the sky, where millions of stars blazed. The Milky Way especially dominated the vast expanse overhead, as brilliant as though a gleaming slash had been cut across the heavens. A silver disc shone among that swathe of lights: the moon, having drunk what light the sun could spare during the day, now streamed it all down upon the earth. The farmer drew in a breath, feeling as much of the quiet this night brought him as he could.

The front door to his home opened softly, and his wife looked out. "Phil?" She saw him, then, where he stood a few paces away, face turned to the sky. "You need a minute?"

"Come out here, Kristin." He said. "Come and feel the wind with me."

His wife smiled and stepped out, shutting the door behind her. Once she reached her husband, she rested her hand on his shoulder and followed his gaze up to the stars.

The nighttime breeze, blowing down from the snowy mountain-tops, was cool and refreshed Phil's mind. He would probably go flying again tomorrow, if he could get his harness to fit him better. If only Kristin would try it...but she was still shy of heights and loved the feel of her feet on solid ground. At least she encouraged him to go up there again, or he'd never leave her alone on the earth below.

Phil bent his head and kissed his wife's beautiful black hair, which still carried the scent of bread and honey from her recent baking. "I like the night." He murmured. "It reminds me of you."