On Staunton Farm, a rooster with fiery orange eyes stood sentinel. Each time a car pulled into the long gravel driveway, his mighty “cock-a-doodle-doo” rang out, a warning and a welcome. The rooster’s call became the farm’s heartbeat, announcing every visitor with unwavering pride and authority.
Wesleyville Stories
Nick’s Hideaway Original Oil Painting
Nick’s cabin of stone,in pines it hides, Autumn whispers through woods,as dusk abides. Heavy clouds loom,casting shadows deep, Where secrets of the forest quietly sleep.Leaves crisp and golden,peace and silence keep.
Nuthatch Departure
A nuthatch perched on an old tree stump,
In dawn’s first light, with a gentle jump.
Wings spread wide, it soared to the sky,
A fleeting shadow,
a whispered goodbye.
Nature’s grace in a delicate flight,
A tiny bird embracing morning’s light.
Harvest Guardian
Yellow Skies
At Hickory House Farm, the sky turned an ominous yellow, an unmistakable sign of tornado weather for the people of Wesleyville. The air was electric, charged with impending danger. Blackbirds took frantic flight, seeking refuge in the nearby pines. The loud cawing and flapping was a stark contrast to the stillness of the farm.
The old brick silo stood tall despite bearing scars from a devastating tornado over 20 years ago. Back then, the top of the silo had been torn off and hurled into a neighboring field. Now, as the storm approached, memories of that fateful day mingled with the present, stirring a deep-seated unease in Alice. Inside the farmhouse, the family braced themselves, recalling stories of past storms.