Summer Love in the Country (Summer Instalove)

one hour a day in the kitchen.

Besides feeding the guests, they had a huge second kitchen where they made jams and

preserves. So this would be sort of a working vacation, and give me a chance to try many

new things in a very different environment.

Even though I had zero experience in the farming arts, the friendly woman on the phone

assured me that I would be coached through everything, and the work was simple.

“That doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Miriam had laughed. “Bring a ton of sunscreen and a great

big hat. You’ll have aching shoulders, ruined fingernails, but I promise you’ll have a giant

smile on your face at the end of every day.”

When the train began to slow down outside the tiny town that was my destination, I saw several fields that were all different shades of green. It was far away from the tracks, but I could almost make out the shape of the Harmer’s Farm logo painted on a barn in the

distance.

Lugging my suitcase and laptop bag off the train, I noticed that I was one of only five

people getting off at this stop, the other four being white-haired ladies in their sixties. The porter helped me lift my suitcase off the last step, then gave me a kind smile. “I’m going to

guess that you’re here for Harmer’s Farm, not the annual quilting festival,” he smiled.

“You’re practically psychic,” I laughed.

He set my suitcase down, expertly snapping out the handle so that I could roll it easily. “The parking lot is on the far side of the station. You’ll see a brown truck with the farm logo on it.”

“Thank you so much,” I said, breathing in the fresh country air as I rolled along the uneven

pavement.

It was obvious that the station wasn’t used very much, but it was in pretty good repair. It

was quaint, with big tubs of flowers in front, beside the large door facing the tracks.

Looking across the wide-open fields, I was absolutely thrilled to be here. Sure, it was a

huge change from my regular life, but that was the point. Since my writing had been

blocked, I needed some kind of kick in the butt to shake my creativity loose.

I figured being bone-tired from physical labor would be a great shock to the system, and a

huge change from serving coffee and running around the café. As I smiled up to the sky, the

afternoon sun so warm on my face, I felt like my new surroundings were definitely going to

inspire my poetry.

Turning the corner to face the parking lot, I saw a big brown pickup. A huge man leaned

against the driver’s side door, looking away from the train across the fields.

He was probably in his mid-thirties, and from the way his faded blue t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and shoulders, I could guess that he did a lot of work on the farm. Heavy,