For years, my little cottage stood as a quiet sanctuary nestled in the heart of the British countryside. Its weathered walls held stories of wild encounters, stormy nights, and the gentle hum of nature just beyond the doorstep. Now, as I prepare to leave, I can’t help but reflect on the untamed beauty that made this place so special.
A Home Among the Wild
From the moment I arrived, the cottage felt alive—not just with creaking floorboards and whistling winds, but with the creatures that called it home. Bats nested in the eaves, hedgehogs rustled through the undergrowth, and owls serenaded the night from the old oak tree. It was never just a house; it was part of the landscape.
Storms and Solace
Winter brought its own drama. The cottage groaned under the weight of gales, rain lashed against the windows, and once, a fox sought refuge on the porch during a blizzard. Yet, there was always warmth—a crackling fire, a steaming cup of tea, and the quiet certainty that this was a place of shelter, not just for me, but for the wild things outside.
Farewell, But Not Goodbye
Leaving is bittersweet. The garden I tended, the birds I fed, the quiet mornings watching deer graze in the mist—these memories will linger. The cottage may soon have new occupants, but its wild heart remains. Nature will reclaim its corners, and life, as it always does, will go on.
So, I say farewell—not to the land, but to my time within it. The wild times were the best of all.
