I could literally feel my spirit smile and uncoil before the gentle hills and dark woods that lay on either side of the highway. Inspite of the barren landscape and gray daylight, the open spaces of country living broke my intense mood and brought a rush of memories complete with smells and sounds. The buzz of a chain saw, the chop and splintering crack of the ax on the log that now lays in two pieces. The creaking groan and hisses of the gaping, ever hungery wood stove. A whif of the air and I think I catch the aroma of freshly baked bread as it steams on the counter. I feel like striding off with a loaf to roam the fields and woods like I used to. Pretending I was one at large discovering everything for the first time. My feet will be muddy, my clothes will have come from goodwill but my heart will sing a song of family and my spirit will soar with the magic of ordinary days.
I miss the magic of those ordinary days.
Things I never thought I'd ever miss. One thing is sure, the spirit thrives on things closests to humble earth. Those dirty finger nails after yet another hour wedding the garden. The straining muscles after 1001 attempts to clean up those acers of multi-color fall leaves. The less than perfect and too small bedroom that overflowed with the books and nicknacks of four growing girls. Even the teasing and pensive thoughts of brothers that first taught me all about boys. Those farmer's breakfasts and the work that brought a farmer's appetite. The family sundown worships...the songs and stories and loving tiredness of just being together.
The twinkle of a stream and my dreams float away...I'm buzzing down the highway into the city again...the lights, the people, the noise, the combusted smells and that everlasting materialism.
If I'm to survive in the city, I need more of these spirit-smile-moments...down country roads, past farms and fields to woods with winds of memories astir.
