Stardew Valley |This Modern Love | F!Female Farmer x Sebastian

This Year

Sage gazes at the overgrown grass covering the farm. It's pretty in a way, waving in the wind, a sea in hues of green and blue. But if she's ever going to get a barn she'll need to clear some space.

She shines a flashlight into the rickety shed, wary of spiders. There's a wheelbarrow, a rake, a pitchfork, and a chest to her left. Several tools lie inside: a hoe, ax, and a watering can. And, to her relief, a scythe, perfect for clearing plants. Sage pumps her fist in celebration.

It's difficult back-breaking work, using the scythe. But it's sharp, and she's making steady progress. Sage figures she'll clear a path to the forest first, make it easier to visit Marnie and get to the beach.

And it sure as hell beats hunching over a phone while angry customers yell at her. It's satisfying how the blade slices with a pleasant schaaa sound.

She pauses, rubs her arm. Her father texted her again this morning. Same message, asking where the fuck the rent money is. Sage ignored him. Not her problem anymore. Anger bubbles in her, and she directs it toward the grass. By the time she's done, her limbs are rubbery and aching, but it doesn't matter. She did this, on her own.

Sage is no stranger to pride, but what's she's feeling now is a different kind. She stands tall, even puffs out her chest a bit. No matter how sore she is, no matter how pissed her parents are, they can't take this away from her. She stands even taller when she hears the chickens clucking in the distance.

Grabbing the wheelbarrow, she stacks it with armfuls of grass. Its wheel is squeaky and could use some grease, but it's functional. After several trips, she loads all the cuttings into the silo. It'll dry out and make good feed for her livestock.

She wipes the sweat from her brow. Earlier, she allocated a large portion of her savings for a barn and some cattle. She ought to talk to Marnie about that today.

First, though, she has chickens to see. Their clucks get louder as she vaults over their fence. She opens the coop's door and they flood out, hopping around her.

And it occurs to her, this is real. No keyboards, no smelly cubicle, no surly managers. Only her and the chickens. Sage hums a tune as she fills their trough. Jerks back in surprise when she almost steps on an egg.

Easter holidays of the past flash into her memory as she sifts through fallen straw, searching for more. She finds four eggs. Not bad. Enough food for a few meals, especially if she can get some rice to stretch it. Sage pats each chicken and rushes the eggs inside, stashes them in the fridge.

She checks the time. 3:30. If she makes her shower quick, she can run to Marnie's to ask about cattle. She scrubs herself with vigor and puts on a sundress, something she picked up from a thrift shop years ago. Sage grabs her backpack.

After pulling on her boots, she rushes from the house. Clearing a path was a great idea. The trip to Marnie's will be much quicker now. And with fewer spiders, she notes with relief. It's warm for the time of year, and birdsong fills the air. The freshly cut grass is soft and fragrant beneath her feet.

The air cools as she enters the forest. Pine needles blanket the ground, soft and springy underfoot. The trees tower over her and branches create a canopy overhead. Sun shafts through, sending dappled patterns everywhere. The leaves rustle in the breeze, a soft, muted sound. Sage can smell wild herbs and spring onions. The sharp scents tickle her nose.

A sign points left, and she follows. Marnie's ranch stands out at the edge of the woods. A few cattle mill in a fenced area. Their gentle moos carry to her on the wind, along with the scent of manure and hay.

Sage approaches the front door and knocks. No response. The sign on the door, decorated with little cartoon cattle and chickens, says "Come in, we're open!" She pushes inside, peeking around.