So it was Sunday afternoon, the wedding went off without a hitch (ahem) and I decided to take a detour round a lonely road in the middle of the middle of the middle of nowhere.
To see my trees.
They are not Bloggingham's trees, but mine just the same. A tract of land given to me long ago by Papa which he inherited from his mother facing the spot where the house he grew up in once stood. I've never done anything with it and only once in all these years given serious thought to selling it. I just like to visit occasionally.
So I drove past this ....and this...
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Maybe deep down I've always really loved the countryside even while railing against living "in the sticks" as a teenager and wanting to be anywhere else.
Have you noticed I'm always chasing trees?
I walked the property a bit, picking wild flowers and trying to reach pine cones for a friend from a too-tall-tree (to no avail) ...mostly just sitting in the sun and feeling the breeze on my face.
It was a beautiful day.
But the wind....it kept kicking up dust and reminding me of a few things I'd rather not be dealing with at all. Surely somewhere in that needle blown afternoon I'd find an answer to the puzzles left lately at my door. I could use Papa's wisdom. He would know exactly what to do and say. I so wanted him to pop out from behind a droopy limb and let me tell him what was troubling me.
So I sat under the branches of his childhood and listened to what the wind said.
Pondering where or not to chase that rabbit down the hole. Hmmmm...maybe I'd better not. Not a good idea when alone in the middle of the middle of the middle ....oh, you know.
And besides, given enough time and open road most rabbits tend to find their way out of a brier patch.
I can wait.