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The Sensory Experiences of Farm life
A few days ago, I was on a bike ride about dusk, enjoying the descent of the sun and the way the clouds react to the change of the angle of the light source. It’s my favorite part of the day, these days.
As an HSP, a highly sensitive person, I have the same amount of sensory experiences as other people, but I tend to notice things more vividly. It seems I also have a deeper well regarding each one than most people. I was born this way. I was born on my grandparent’s farm in Northeast Indiana. It was not intended that I be born there, but that connection seems fitting.
I have always been a homemaker-type as I was raised by parents who were farmers. My mother grew up on a pig farm with loads of acreage and my father, on a dairy farm. Both lived in the same county, just West of my current home. I was quite good at being a homemaker/caretaker because of this “gift” of being HSP. In addition to the awareness level of being an oldest child, I noticed literally everything. The sounds that children make while playing, sleeping, watching TV, and working were familiar. The way the breeze was coming through the house, which farmers were spraying which chemicals, and the level of ripeness of each crop we were surrounded with were everyday summer sensory experiences. I can still tell the direction of the wind, by the scent of the breeze.
