There is no light on the farm, and my sneakers on the gravel path seem to echo to the mountains, shade upon shade on the horizon. I’m looking for a place to sit out of the cold.
A peacock walks in front of me. He looks like one of the lavender bushes has come to life.
When I find all the doors—to the office, to the restaurant, to the shop—are closed, I sit on a bench in the fitness center in front of a mirror. The reflection of the light in the glass doors to the outside make it impossible to see. In an hour, I don’t notice the sun has risen and the mountains are covered in snow.