In the mornings, when you go out to feed the horses their morning meal, the birds are having a concert in the trees that border Time Out Farms. In the evenings, they give an encore. It’s a wild kind of song, with hundreds of birds trying to outsing each other.
A couple of hundred meters from the house, the rails carrying the freight trains with goods into the Rocky Mounrains run. At night, you sometimes hear the freight trains’ signal, a slightly melancholic sound that for some reason makes me think of the sea and lonely, windswept islets.
And after a rainy day, when the fog has covered everything into a mystical forgetfulness, hundreds of frogs quackle in the swampy meadows.
Katja Malmborg 
Moikka, toivottavasti olet jo paassyt ratsastamaan sinne mahtaviin maisemiin. Iso halaus