While developing “Tended Still” I wrote down:
It’s not a gps, pin or a tag
But hills, fields and a weathervane that guide me home
Between centuries old stone and hand-built walls
By grazers and gazers
Where land and life are tended still.
This farm spent years, possibly decades, without a human soul caring for it. Structures started to crumble. Slowly, the long grasses found space to stretch and nearby wildflowers began to ask their questions of the sun. I watched as the earth here became tended by softer souls than yours or mine.