A few weeks ago when we were sure that the animals would be lining up two by two, I was invited to tour P. Allen Smith’s Moss Mountain Farm. I donned my boots and my favorite sun hat which I figured could double nicely as an umbrella when the moment came.
Even though the yard was crawling with bloggers and those of the social media bent the land and home gave off quite a calm serene feel. As if you could just start walking without a care and let the mind wander…. and wonder.
Meandering the garden paths in the mist and thunder.
Wishing you could waste the day on the sleeping porch as the clouds rolled over the river.
Pondering the vegetable patch.
And traipsing through wet fields and muddy roads to visit chickens.
I was especially captivated by an original painting of Allen’s hanging in the front parlor. A larger landscape of rolling hills and pasture land.
This was his family’s farm in Tennessee. If you stared long enough you could see the trees and grass almost sway with wind. And imagine the work happening on the homestead. I love pieces of art that hold personal history.
The house is full of windows big and small that open up to a view that seemed to never end.
They all invited you to lounge on a cushion or rest your shoulder into a windowsill and just take in the drizzle and fog of the Arkansas River Valley.
By the time we were leaving I was damp and muddy and all my curls had sprung despite my big hat. But it was a wonderful, wanderful day.
“I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It