Backroads of Morrow County Update:
I saw
her today for the first time--the doe with her fawn. He was such a
little thing and struggling to match mom's pace. She would stop and go,
stop and go, and he would keep following: a portrait of patience and
perseverance.
There are lots of little churches along the back
roads: Harmony Chapel, Gethsemane Baptist--always has "words of wisdom"
on the sign post, Independent
Baptist--they always have a "sermon" on their sign. You can't miss them
since most of them have a spire, but they all get a yellow sign:
"Church." A warning or an invitation? Harmony Chapel has an old
cemetery across the way. I'd like to check it out some day; see how old
some of the stones are. God's people have been around for a long time
you know--even here in Morrow County.
Several people name their
farms: "A Touch of Texas," "Hidden Cove" (not any more), "Pleasant
Acres." I heard an arrogant chubby old bald guy gave his place a
generic name, but he hasn't been crazy enough to put up a placard. Not
that he's not arrogant; he's just a hermit at heart and wants to make
sure he's hard to find. Today a couple of them had the same name:
"Huge Garage Sale"--competing arrows pointing in opposite directions.
If my sister Chloe had been with me, I'd still be out there in the
hinterlands--just sayin'.
Even though we are rain starved out here,
the wild flowers don't seem to mind. Orange daylilies everywhere. I
think they would grow and spread in a desert. And the chicory is just
as persistent, dancing along the very edges of the pavement or gravel.
Is "Fearless Blue" a color? Should be. Lots of sweet peas everywhere
as well. Pink sprinkled in the roadside ditches.
If I had a good
camera I could publish a book--"Backroad Birds." Most of them have
their own little territory. The red-winged blackbirds and mourning
doves own the whole world, of course, but the others have their "spot."
I know just where to look for the bluebirds, the red-headed
woodpeckers, the goldfinch, the sparrow hawk, the indigo bunting. They
have a "hangout." I'm pretty sure they're flapping their wings to say
"hello" when I creep by. Oh, the huge, ugly clean up crews are roaming
everywhere--nomads. Wherever the road kill is, behold the buzzards.
Cleaning up other people's mess. Actually, quite impressive creatures.
Glad I'm not a dead raccoon.
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