Country Back Roads

 The temperature was an unusual 63 degrees. I decided to take a drive along the narrow country back roads near the Chicken Ranch. I rolled the window down, and drifted along at a leisurely 25 miles an hour. I didn’t want to hurry through this winter reprieve. I wanted to feel the wind, smell the woodland air, and soak in the  atmosphere of peace.

The roads rose and lowered like ocean swells, and the little red truck responded like a sailboat in the wind. Narrow ribbons of blacktop and gravel flowed through field and forest, just like the watery creeks on either side of them. Some dirt roads led through fields and woods, and then out of sight, making me wish that I could explore each one to solve the mystery of where they went. Did they lead to a pond or stream? Was there an old barn or abandoned house to explore at the end?
I could make a life of following roads,  gravel and grass and dirt, just to see where they lead. Just to discover what secret things lie waiting at the roads conclusion.

The wind was blowing strong from the south, and danced hop-scotch across the prairie grass, leaving its ghostly imprint first here, then there, until the vegetation was released and rose to height again. Occasionally a gust would strike the truck and loosen my cowboy hat a bit. I just pushed it tighter to my head, and enjoyed the fresh air on my skin. Tree branches, with only a leaf or two intact, rose and dipped in the southerly breeze.The few leaves that fell blew briskly across my path. Corn husks, blown from un-plowed fields, skipped in front of the truck, like so many tan seahorses on parade.

A few red and copper colored leaves were nearly all that remained on the trees around me. The faded green leaves and red berries of bushes along the fence rows, stood out against the darker green of the cedar trees. Golden brown grasses lined the bottoms of rusty barbed wire fence, which clung to sentinels of gray weathered posts. Here and there, weary wooden gates stood guard, sagging under the weight of time and season.

Crows noisily peppered a harvested cornfield, while a flock of wild turkeys scratched for what was left in a bean field on the opposite side of the road. Occasionally, a red fox squirrel would scamper across the road. He needn't hurry, he was in no danger as I putted slowly along . The cattle dotted the knobs and valleys, grazing contentedly. Only the cows close to the fences raised their heads as I passed, then went back to feeding on the tough winter grasses. Birds flitted from bush to bush and limb to limb. A multi colored pheasant stood by one road, and watched cautiously as I rolled by. A honking gaggle of geese glided slowly down to a farm pond. It was time to rest from their journey south.

All the time I was driving, clouds had rolled steadily in. They now covered the sky from horizon to horizon like a blue/gray veil. The air began to cool with the departure of the sun. Day mellowed softly into night, and the smell of rain was on the wind. I rolled down my shirt sleeves and cranked the window some, but couldn’t bare to put it all the way up just yet. With the sun lowering into the western sky, I reluctantly turned the truck down a black narrow thread of road that headed off to the west.

There was no mystery in this particular stretch of oil and gravel. This curvy country road offered a hot cup of coffee, a warm fireplace, and supper on the stove. It wound its way through the woods and fields, through knobs and hollows, and ended right where I needed it to. This country  back road led the way home.