Clara

The sun dips low over the endless prairie, painting the sky in fiery hues. Our modest ranch stands resilient against the winds, a sturdy wooden house flanked by a sprawling barn and a fenced paddock where horses graze. My wife, Clara, embodies both grace and grit—her honey-blonde hair, usually tied in a loose braid, gleams in the fading light. Her piercing blue eyes are as sharp as her wit, but they soften when she tends to the garden or hums a tune while sewing. Clara's laughter rings like a melody, and her determination matches the wild spirit of the land. She's the heart of this home, always ready with a warm meal, a kind word, or a steady hand when the ranch demands it.