As I look through the huge window in my living room, one thing is for certain.  The view is breathtaking.  The rolling hills, swaying grass, birds mingling with small chirps; this is what I live for.  I grab a pencil and my sketch pas and sit back in my chair.  I start to draw the thick, bold lines of the barn as well as the delicate swirls of my favorite lambs fur.  This has became the evening ritual.

     I recall my summers here as a child, visiting my aunts here in Jamestown.  How I loved to escape the noisy, bustles of Paris and spend time here with the animals and my family.  That's why the second I turned eighteen I bought a plane ticket.  I hated leaving my family and friends back home, but the sense of belonging I feel here is indescribable.  

     When I first got here, my aunt announced that she was handing the farm over to me.  In her old age, she found it hard to care for the animals like she used to.  However, that's what I lived for.  I loved the routine of farm life.  It was just so peaceful.  This small farmhouse was the best gift I've ever gotten.  When I finifh the barn and pasture piece, I pack up my art supplies neatly, grab my jacket to protect myself from the chilly, autumn air, and start out to the barns.

     I had just got done checking the alpacas when I heard a strange noise from the horse barn.  I rushed in to see what the noise was, when I saw Millie, my buckskin Quarter Horse mare in a crouching, laboring position.  Annie, my best friend and farm hand, greets me as I walk up.

     "Hey Amelia, I tried to call you but I think you left your phone back at the house," she says with her thick southern draw.  She's lived here in Jamestown her entire life, "Millie has been laborin for about an hour.  The foal should be here soon.  I'm prayin for a colt!"

I walked down the aisle, reflecting on how much is riding on this one foal.

     "My goodess Amelia, look!  A colt!  It's a colt!"

Heart beating fast, I ran anxiously back to the stall.  I saw the most gorgeous chestnut foal in the world.  

     "He's so beautiful," Annie says in awe, "lets let this momma get the baby cleaned up."

She takes a seat on the bench right by Millie's stall, fiddling with her boots.

     I walked out of the barn thinking about losing Duke.  The farm has been nehind in bills ever since he passed away.  He was the main breeding and showing stallion and his babies were worth more than any of the others we have here.  Right before he passed, I bred him to Millie in hopes of getting a colt to keep the Mr. San Peppy bloodline going.  The whole farm had been depending on this one colt.  I didn't realize it then, but this tiny colt didn't just keep the farm out of debt, but he also preserved my love, my passion.  As silly as it sounds, I was eternally greatful to this very foal.  That's when the realization dawned on me..  The perfect name, for our little savior.

     Annie walked out and asked what we were going to name him.

     "Sauveur, his name is Sauveur.  French for savior.  It's only fitting giving the circumstance," I replied, still in shock.

"I don't know how y'all talk in France, but I have no idea what you just said.  I don't know nothin about French, so I'm just gonna call him Vern," Annie answered, voice full of joking attitude, giving me a strange look.

We walked back into the barn laughing, hopeful for the future.