Summary

Portrait of Kate Sanborn Kate Sanborn Adopting an Abandoned Farm

As Warner once said to me, “young love in the country is a very solemn thing,” and this shy, serious pair slowed up as they passed, to see my place. The piazza was gay with hanging baskets, vines, strings of beads and bells, lanterns of all hues; there were tables, little and big, and lounging chairs and a hammock and two canaries. The brightest geraniums blossomed in small beds through the grass, and several long flower beds were one brilliant mass of bloom, while giant sun-flowers reared their golden heads the entire length of the farm.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Kate Sanborn Kate Sanborn Adopting an Abandoned Farm

Isn’t it strange and sad and pitiful, that it is the summer guest who alone enjoys the delights of summering in the country? There is no time for rest, for recreation, for flowers, for outdoor pleasures, for the average farmer and his family. You seldom see any bright faces at the windows, which are seldom opened—only a glimpse here and there of a sad, haggard creature, peering out for curosity. Strange would it be to hear peals of merry laughter; stranger still to see a family enjoying a meal on the piazza or a game on the grass. As for flowers, they are valued no more than weeds
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Kate Sanborn Kate Sanborn Adopting an Abandoned Farm

I miss my daily visit to the cows and the frolic with the dogs. All that has been unpleasant fades like a dream.
I think of the delicious morning hours on the broad vine-covered piazza, the evenings with their starry splendor or witching moonlight, the nights of sound sleep and refreshing rest, the all-day picnics, the jolly drives with friends as charmed with country life as myself, and I weary of social functions and overpowering intellectual privileges, and every other advantage of the metropolis, and long to migrate once more from Gotham to Gooseville.
Source: Gutenberg

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