WEBVTT

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The afternoon sun broke through a high, drifting

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veil of clouds,

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casting a soft, diffuse light over the sprawling

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green countryside.

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Out in the meadow, the grass swayed in

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a lazy summer breeze,

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rippling like an emerald sea around scattered cylinders

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of freshly pressed hay.

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Their sweet, earthy scent hung heavy in the

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warm air,

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mingling with the rich aroma of damp soil

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and sun -warmed timber.

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At the edge of the rolling fields stood

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the old red wooden barn,

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a stubborn anchor of rustic farm life.

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Years of weathering had baked the paint into

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a rich, deep crimson,

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and every knot, grain, and groove of the

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heavy planks

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told a silent story of seasons past.

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A solitary swallow darted out from the shadow

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of the wide double doors,

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looping high into the pale blue sky before

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diving back toward the eaves.

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Inside the shelter of the timber frame, the

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world slowed down to the rhythm of a

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ticking clock

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and the gentle rustle of pigeons nesting in

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the rafters.

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Old Arthur leaned against the weathered threshold,

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tipping his straw hat back to wipe his

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brow.

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He looked out over the quiet expanse of

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green,

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watching the shadows stretch long across the meadow

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as the day began to turn toward evening.

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Everything was as it should be, wrapped in

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the profound, unbroken piece of the country.