The Big Apple Orchard

Sometimes I wish I lived in New York city. Especially when I come across pretty things like this:

Maybe its the myth that surrounds the city but its as if I can taste and touch and smell it. A nostalgia for something that never happened.

And then there are moments when I ache for a tiny farm on a dirt road with chickens and barefoot children. New York or Cape Breton. Paris or Thunder Bay.