Escape to Feathers' Creek Road

As I slowly stroll down Feathers' Creek Road, I am lulled by the soothing crunch of gravel under my feet. Just ahead, a black cloud trails behind a farmer's tractor, leaving the gritty taste of dirt lingering on my tongue. The mingled odor of horse manure and sweet hay signals the presence of a close by farm.

I stop just long enough to reach up and pluck a ripe green apple from the tree beside me. Lowering myself onto the soft bed of grass, I pause to take a bite and let the bittersweet flavor revive my taste buds. I shut my eyes and enjoy the cheerful serenade from the black-capped chickadees in the apple tree above me.

Leaning against the rough bark of the tree, my gaze drifts to the weathered farmhouse down the road. The once-bright yellow boards are now faded and chipped. On the front porch, an old wooden rocking chair creaks quietly in the breeze. The clinking of glass jars and the strong aroma of dill and onions wafting from the kitchen window reveal that Mrs. Warner is busy pickling cucumbers from her garden.

From the left side of the farmhouse, the playful whinny of a horse captures my attention. Quickly wiping the sticky juice from my chin, I grab another apple and wander over to the rustic horse corral.

I move toward the timber fence and slowly offer my outstretched palm to the two horses. The first, a small gray dappled mare, shyly retreats to the far end of the field. The other horse, a jet-black stallion, catches sight of the apple. His feet begin to beat out a lively cadence- clip, clop, clip- as he trots over to greet me.
His warm breath tickles as he grunts and buries his muzzle in my hand, seeking out the fruit. While he noisily chomps his treat, I begin to massage his thick mane. Gradually, I allow my hand to glide up and down his silky-smooth neck. As I leave him with a final pat, he lets out a single snort as if to bid me farewell.

Up ahead, the evening sun peeks out from behind the distant hills, causing small darts of orange to shoot throughout the pink and purple sky. The hushed chirping of crickets sends out a warning that nighttime is approaching. The quickly cooling air is now filled with the mouthwatering scent of spicy sausage and peppers cooking on a grill somewhere in the neighborhood.

As I turn the corner, the sudden smoothness of the paved road and the loud whooshing of vehicles on the busy highway abruptly remind me that my leisurely walk has come to an end. It's time to return home to my life and reality; at least, until tomorrow when I can once again escape to Feathers Creek' Road.