A little dose of farm therapy in New Hampshire

I spent a semester in NYC this Spring, finishing up a degree in Food Studies. A concrete jungle they say—and now I believe it. It was an odd transition going from caretaking to Thailand to the Big Apple.

 

I’ve traveled around the world. I’ve been to South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, and Zambia. I’ve visited England, Scotland, France, Italy, the Netherlands, Switzerland. I’ve traveled solo in Spain, Portugal, Austria, Germany and India, and I experienced Thailand last November.

But somehow a city in my own country proved to be the most overwhelming of all. I found the subways to be unreliable and claustrophobic, complicating an a long commute. I was uprooted from my living situation due to an unstable roommate and ended up AirBnB-hopping for half of my semester. I found it challenging to shift back into full-time student mode after having been away from that environment for a multiple years, and was the oldest in most of my classes. Some personal problems plagued the semester as well.

But I survived! I am safely living and working on a farm in northern New Hampshire with dirt beneath my fingernails and grass beneath my feet. There’s a lot to be unpacked here in terms of white privilege and access to green space, but I’ll save it for another day – for now, I’ll write that I am extremely privileged to have the capacity to leave the city and reside in areas with beautiful landscapes. Not everyone has that ability.

At least I got to see my totem animal at the Museum of Natural History!

 

I am just now beginning to feel revived after a month and a half of farm therapy post-NYC. I’m doing yoga. I’m paddling. I’m meditating. I’m writing. And the plants and I nurture each other. All healing things, all things I am incredibly lucky to be able to do for myself.

An afternoon of canoeing on Conway Lake

 

Group chicken therapy session!

 

The view from Mt. Chocoruah

That’s all for now. I hope everyone is doing well. Happy fourth of July!

Quinn the Girl

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