Backroads of Morrow County Update:
I
love an early morning drive on a snowy morning. Strangely, it began
with a sound memory before I even made it to the car. When I opened the
back door to leave, it creaked and the sound took me back to the cabin
doors in a camp I used to attend back in my Missouri days. It was
outside of Ironton, Missouri, and it was a beautiful rustic place to
spend a week. Lovely memories of good
times, of an old place that I can see in great detail as I walk from my
backdoor in Morrow County, Ohio--decades later. Memory--being in two
places at the same time. Ever have a sound memory? A gift from the God
of love.
The great thing about an early snow drive is that the
plows have not yet destroyed the snow on the roads. All is white. The
contrast with the starkness of the trees is lovely. And yet there is
color. The trees and shrubs are not one color, but browns of different
shades, even tans. The tops of the weeds look like cotton swabs. Some
of the snow banks--maybe it's my imagination--have a blue tinge to them.
The green conifers dot the landscape. They too are different shades.
It is not a deep snow--yet--and the cornstalks still stand in their
rows, orderly, disciplined. They will not surrender their place in the
world until the plows of spring come. And then only reluctantly.
There is wildlife. Life, anyway. The horses seem unfazed by the snow.
In the place that has a few of them, they stand together, companions.
They are not looking at each other, but the sense of group is obvious.
One place has a single horse. Spoiled, he has a blanket against the
cold. He doesn't know he's spoiled I'm sure. His herd is made up of a
flotilla of barn cats. They are not fans of the snow. They congregate
at the doorway looking out. Cat church? Wonder who's doing the
preaching? Yellow, black, orange, calico, white, multicolored--no robed
choir here. One brave soul has wandered out and climbed up on a fence
post. He sits face to face with the horse. It's as if they are
discussing the weather. Storybook friends, if I had the time to imagine
and write a tale. A huge flock of crows glean the corn fields. Can
there still be food there this far along in the winter? Must be. It's
quite a group--worthy of the Hitchcock tale. They'll never catch my
car.
No flock of sheep unless they blend in. No guard llama for sure. Must be secure in a barn somewhere. Softies!
I do meet a car or two going the other direction. I guess on snowy
roads the wave tradition is set aside. I wave anyway. I'll see who's
brave enough to look away from the slick road and take a hand off the
steering wheel to stand up for country living--to be a cornstalk in a
snow storm. At least, on a beautiful snowy morning, I can creep along
feasting on the beauty of God's black and white landscaping without any
other drivers being irritated if they come up behind me. Snowy roads
may manufacture trepidation but impatience doesn't seem to be
flourishing. I did "catch up" to a metal horse--a white Mustang--that
was creeping along even more slowly than I. Thanks! I knew I was going
too fast. "Slow down and live" should be a highway sign everywhere.
Life's too beautiful to hurry through a moment. I'm building up lovely
memories for the decades to come. Now that's an investment no economic
crisis can take from me--or you. Anyone--everyone--can be rich.
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