10 Days In

I had no idea what I was getting in to. 10 days in I can safely say that I sorely underestimated how taxing this program would be. My biceps and triceps and calves and thighs can attest to it. As can the flailing state of the myriad of commitments that I made before moving on to the farm. 10 days in, I can officially say: this program is officially kicking my rear.

If it weren’t for the waking up at dawn, or riding up the steep hillsides that separate the farm, the garden and town, or the working physically for the first time in years; perhaps I wouldn’t be reeling as I am now. And maybe had I been unfazed by those activities; perhaps the working part time producing the movie, the tending to summer dahlias, and the maintenance of my long-standing relationships would have done me in.

Regardless of the reasons, I am exhausted. I am finding myself crawling toward my tent at night, slurring my words, rubbing my allergy stricken eyes and looking forward to cozying up to the hot water bottle that has become my nightly bed guest.

But as I nest down under the multi layered comforters that insulate me from the damp chill, my reasons for exhaustion fade, and all I am left with is the utter contentment that I am exactly where I want to be, doing exactly what I want to be doing. As the little sign in the garden chalet says I am here for a reason.