Completely content I rise this morning to the sound of water running for the cows and the chirp of some tiny yellow bids I have discovered to have a haven nearby.
I pull myself out from under the hand woven wool blanket my host mother insisted I put on top of my sleeping bag. The blanket reaks from years of use without a single washing, but the simple beauty of its craft earned its place in my bedroom. I washed the paste from the pots and pans that was mashed potatoes and gravy last night. They giggled when my response to what I was making for dinner was, “papas chancadas” or ‘smooshed potates’ but they raved and so did I. There wasn’t nearly enough to go around. The local fresh milk gave the mashed potatoes a rich, thick, sweet flavor I had never tasted before.
Today is Saturday and we will go to the fields. They told me to bring my knitting, so the work most not be too strenuous. Yesterday afternoon my host mother, sister, and I sat on three rocks in our house and felt the sun set as we knit. The method they use is completely different than what I learned from friends in college, so my fingers were clumsy and young, but the technique has a simplicity and functionality that just makes sense. As the cold overtook what was a warm day our fingers tired but our conversations didn’t. By the end, none of us were still working, just sitting and laughing with one another discussing the day and how it passed.
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