Undefined

There are two things that I live for from day to day, that is the roar of the crowd and the rolling hills on my ranch. Stepping off stage and having to leave my home give me a feeling of pure hatred for myself. Years of building up my dream, and only to hate myself?! that is crazy! I had these talks with myself a lot. I pulled my blanket around myself as I sat on my front porch that over looked the vast many acre plot of land I had. I don't really remember how many acres this land had, but I did know that on my 6 month down times I hadn't even explored the whole of it...and I had been living here for 3 years. There was grassland on the other side of the small tree line, hidden from my house and unable to be seen from the road. I heard horses and cows vocalize in the darkness. I wasn't scared to live here, in that way that you look at dark forests and get a dreaded feeling. I lifted myself from my rocking chair and dropped the blanket at my feet. The driveway led off to my right, down to the main dirt road through a small wooded area that I'm sure was half an acre or a whole on on its own. Once you got out of that you saw the house. It's a grand but simple old two story farm house with painted black shutters and a red door. I stepped off the porch into the soft grass; My bare feet flexing. My home almost seemed too perfect. In the fall not a leaf fell in the yard, nothing sharp waited in the grass for my always bare feet to find unexpectedly. I fallowed my small dirt path from the left of my porch down through another span of woods, this one easily an acre or two. Crickets chirped and other night creatures scuttled around, ignoring me like always. They seemed to be used to my night time antics...maybe they thought I was one of them? A fox trotted along next to me on the road that was well hidden and barely big enough for a truck and trailer to get down. Off my little path; to the left it lead to another road, a mile long. To the right it lead off to my barns. The little fox decided it was time to leave my company, turning around and going back up the little dirt path. The moon shown down between the trees and glinting off the backs of deer. They looked at me, then returned to eating. I made my way down the road, feeling the dirt clump between my toes and feeling in utter peace with the world. I didn't worry about bears or wolves, I saw them from time to time, but they stayed far from my animals. I reached a break in the vast wood and there sat my large barn. Two stories of red brick and cement. In the winter it was the warmest place on earth, and in the summer it was cool against the beating sun. Way back when I had bought this place I had invested in rod iron fencing, almost like what a mansion would have. Cows and horses couldn't get out and no one but me, with a key could enter. I unlocked the padlock and un-wound the chain, leaving both to hang on the gate. For a moment I waited, listening to the cows on the other side of the hill walk around and chew on grass in the pitch black. I breathed in the dusty barn smell too. It calmed me a lot. I whistled, throwing open the huge barn doors. The cows slowly ran up the hill and down to me, greeting as they stampeded by. Sarah was the first, I had her since she was 6 months old, going on 10, she was a bit of a slow mover but still the boss of the yard. Sarah's many daughters passed by too, each with the trademarked head swing, like they were royalty. In my head they were. I had at the least two of every breed besides my line of jerseys, which grew as the daughters had daughters, had daughters. The horses came slowly, a lot less of them, there were four mustangs and two quarter horses. I rode each one from time to time, often when I came off tour running one to its exhaustion point and then throwing the saddle on another. They didn't mind at all. The cows made a line for a large pen at one end, while the horses waited patiently. I sealed them in, and then pulled a rope to let hay down for them; falling from the second floor in the hayloft part. A new shipment was meant to come next week. I opened the door for the horses and they ran down the hall, passed the babies and up the boards to their stalls. I fallowed slowly with one of my favorite horses, a yellow buckskin named Spirit. I latched every stall, one by one as hay waited for them in the back. Walking back after lock and chaining every gate and door, I felt like a prison warden. I had to trap every thing I loved, secluded expensive million acre ranch, gate after gate, after gate with chains and locks, and many wooden paths. My rocking chair on the porch waved slightly in the small breeze that picked up, another sat next to it. One no one sat in, or probably ever would. I didn't choose to live alone, unlike the others in White Rose...but I did.....