My commute to the office usually takes about twenty-five minutes. It’s two-lane, country driving the entire way along one of the Illinois’ River Roads. My landmarks as I drive are a railroad crossing, a bald eagle nest, and a couple of roadside picnic benches. There usually isn’t much traffic, but you do have to watch for deer. Especially during the rut.
This time of year, I watch for turtles. So far, I’ve stopped and given a crossing assist to five of them, parking along the roadside with my hazards flashing. (Only one peed on me…but that’s a different story.) Continue reading “Take Me Home Country Roads”→
There is something about the country that gets down into your soul, plants like a seed, and grows until its roots can’t be pulled by anyone or anything. There’s a serenity in the woods that you can’t explain, a calm that comes from nothing except tranquil animals in an evening pasture.
And as much as I try, I will never be able to fully explain what it’s like to plant myself next to my animals or in my garden. For many, this life will never really make sense. And that’s ok.
But maybe, for a moment, you can follow me into my pastures, and maybe, for a moment, you will understand why the aches and pains of the ranch are worth it. Every. Single. Time.
This is a place that gives abundantly and takes away pieces of your heart.