Old school soul

 Day Two:

In the weeds I go. Time to get scraped, itchy and dirty. Strapping on the braces of discomfort. Please relish youth. You don’t get it back. I harken back to days of trying to drive a go-kart and failing miserably. I drove it in the gate five times. Covered in cow manure and sweat. Can you imagine?  An editorial for Vogue awaits me.  As frustrated as I was that day, it’s now a treasured memory. A keepsake of driving. I long for something I can’t do, but that day I did.  Failing in open spaces. Farm life gives you lessons that now cost hundreds in the therapy chair. I don’t regret either. I need both. I need to fall down, feel the earth and then discuss it.  It’s a pattern, I’m sure I don’t have the right to trademark. I’ve tasted grass, hay bales and bugs. There is no limit to what you encounter in the woods of Carolina. The morning call of the chickens has me brewing coffee at four in the morning. It’s not lost on me that the life I lead is a dream to many.  It’s only know as I sit and ruminate, that we don’t realize when mistakes become the biggest sources of gratitude.   Vogue cover girl am I?  Chanel dipped in old school soul.  Funnier things have happened