Backroads of Morrow County Update:
I took the back roads home from lunch yesterday. Have to go by the Highway Patrol station. Why is it I always feel uneasy (okay, guilty) when I see a patrol car--even when it's sitting empty in the parking lot. I mean I was doing all of 15 mph. And I think they like having their station on a gravel road so they can look cool peeling out when they get an emergency call.
The gravel is pretty much gone by this time of the year. The roads are just a hard pan decorated with pot holes. I have no idea where all the gravel goes. I drive slowly, but then I always drive slowly on my treks through the back roads. Slow. Slower. Slowest. It's the only way to go. Even complete stop works best at times.
The landscape seems to have expanded. With the leaves gone I can see deep into the hideaways of the thickets and stands of trees along the way. Places of mystery in summer, hiding places for the deer, they are now porous and open. And with the beans and corn harvested, the contours of the fields are visible and picturesque. With no corn to hide the view, it seems as if you can see for miles--miles you didn't know were there before. Open. I like the sensation. And "new" homes have suddenly appeared--privacy blown away by the autumn winds.
The wild flowers are, of course, long gone. In hiding until next year. And there are no barn swallows on the wires. Even the mourning doves have gone off to who knows where (one of my favorite places) even though I know they spend the winter in Ohio. And no buzzards soaring through the gray blue skies. Glorious from a distance; somewhat grotesque up close. I guess the road kill is tastier farther south this time of year. There was some activity. I actually passed a van. "Hi"--even though they can't hear me. The obligatory wave. Backroad tradition, remember. And one farmer was still finishing reaping his corn. His reaper must have been a little angry to be one of the last to have to work before winter's rest. Had "spit" some shucked ears out on to the road. The crows and Canadian geese are serving as gleaners. Too bad they don't have a love-sick Boaz to tell the reapers to leave a little extra for the gorgeous gleaner coming up behind. Not that either of them would fall into the "gorgeous" category. I can relate.
The only drawback to traveling gravelless gravel roads is that you can see the floor of the one lane wooden bridges over the creeks. A great test for your faith. They look a little splintered and worn this time of year. And that's another frustration, now that I think of it. There are several back roads that have barriers in front of them with the ominous warning "bridge out" so and so many miles down the way. As a dedicated explorer of back roads, it's difficult to handle such privations. When, pray tell, am I going to get to slowly explore those roads? I mean, come on Morrow County ODOT, it's been a couple years for some of them. Torture. Don't they know that "curiosity killed the cat owner"? Guess I need to run for county commissioner. On a platform of "bring bridges back to Morrow County." At least I'd find out who the other hopeless romantics are.
I took the back roads home from lunch yesterday. Have to go by the Highway Patrol station. Why is it I always feel uneasy (okay, guilty) when I see a patrol car--even when it's sitting empty in the parking lot. I mean I was doing all of 15 mph. And I think they like having their station on a gravel road so they can look cool peeling out when they get an emergency call.
The gravel is pretty much gone by this time of the year. The roads are just a hard pan decorated with pot holes. I have no idea where all the gravel goes. I drive slowly, but then I always drive slowly on my treks through the back roads. Slow. Slower. Slowest. It's the only way to go. Even complete stop works best at times.
The landscape seems to have expanded. With the leaves gone I can see deep into the hideaways of the thickets and stands of trees along the way. Places of mystery in summer, hiding places for the deer, they are now porous and open. And with the beans and corn harvested, the contours of the fields are visible and picturesque. With no corn to hide the view, it seems as if you can see for miles--miles you didn't know were there before. Open. I like the sensation. And "new" homes have suddenly appeared--privacy blown away by the autumn winds.
The wild flowers are, of course, long gone. In hiding until next year. And there are no barn swallows on the wires. Even the mourning doves have gone off to who knows where (one of my favorite places) even though I know they spend the winter in Ohio. And no buzzards soaring through the gray blue skies. Glorious from a distance; somewhat grotesque up close. I guess the road kill is tastier farther south this time of year. There was some activity. I actually passed a van. "Hi"--even though they can't hear me. The obligatory wave. Backroad tradition, remember. And one farmer was still finishing reaping his corn. His reaper must have been a little angry to be one of the last to have to work before winter's rest. Had "spit" some shucked ears out on to the road. The crows and Canadian geese are serving as gleaners. Too bad they don't have a love-sick Boaz to tell the reapers to leave a little extra for the gorgeous gleaner coming up behind. Not that either of them would fall into the "gorgeous" category. I can relate.
The only drawback to traveling gravelless gravel roads is that you can see the floor of the one lane wooden bridges over the creeks. A great test for your faith. They look a little splintered and worn this time of year. And that's another frustration, now that I think of it. There are several back roads that have barriers in front of them with the ominous warning "bridge out" so and so many miles down the way. As a dedicated explorer of back roads, it's difficult to handle such privations. When, pray tell, am I going to get to slowly explore those roads? I mean, come on Morrow County ODOT, it's been a couple years for some of them. Torture. Don't they know that "curiosity killed the cat owner"? Guess I need to run for county commissioner. On a platform of "bring bridges back to Morrow County." At least I'd find out who the other hopeless romantics are.
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