Isn’t it great to travel? I hope that if you have not stood at the edge of the continent as the Pacific waves come crashing into the rocks, that you will have that opportunity. I hope that you will gaze into the turquoise greenness of the Colorado River. Maybe one day you will be startled by a school of flying fish breaching the Caribbean waters and then gliding above them.
There is so much to see and do, don’t you agree? It is exhilarating to see a new place, to try new foods or to meet new people. I don’t think I will ever get my fill. But you know what is even better than venturing out of these Ozark hills? To me, it is the pleasure of returning to them.
My roots are entangled in the rocky hillsides, the fertile river bottoms, the lakes, rivers, and mountain streams. The wildlife, the flora, the music and art and old-people’s stories… It is home. And it is special in every season. There are few things as lovely as one of those sharp, frosty mornings when the fog has frozen to the trees and even the air shines in the sunlight. About the only thing that could make it better would be if an eagle were to swoop down to snatch a trout from the river and then fling water from its wingtips as it climbs back into the air.
Spring will be here soon and there is no sweeter time to glory in what this place has to offer. Listen for it. Spring peepers will frantically try to out-peep each other in the dark. Songbirds will return and break the morning stillness to re-proclaim their little spot on the map. In a couple of months, you might stand and sniff the air and catch the scent of apple blossoms through lingering wood smoke. Ozark Spring brings many visual delights as well — redbuds and dogwoods and green leaves and woodland flowers. It will bring swallows and hummingbirds. Buntings and flycatchers. And to warm your heart, it will bring babies galore.
Lambs, calves, fawns, cubs, kits, pups, chicks, goslings, bunnies — you name it!
You might ask if I ever take this place for granted. I hope not. I am glad for the Voice inside that draws me to simple things. That same Voice reminds me to look.To notice. It sounds a little (no, a lot) like my grandmother who took the time to point out a blue jay or a cardinal, and to tell me their names. Together we picked her lilacs and peonies, and she made sure that I noticed their fragrances. We looked at clouds and picked up pretty rocks, and the whole time I was growing in my understanding and appreciation of nature. I was connecting. And I have remained connected. What a beautiful gift she gave me.
Sometimes I talk back to the Inner Voice. (Only in my head, of course). Sometimes I might say, “I can’t look right now. I have to work.” Or, “I have to finish my project. I have a deadline, you know.” (Those who know me are probably aware that I harbor a few type-A tendencies.) But, the Voice is persistent. It might point out that it is raining. And I need to know that. It may whisper, “Look at that rainbow. Really look.” And I do. The Voice could ask, “Did you feel that breeze on your face?” “Of course I did.” “Then tell me what it smells like.” … “Honeysuckle.”
Every day the Voice reminds me of things I must not fail to do. Enjoy the sunrise. Feel the morning as I walk to my car to go to work. Intentionally brush against wild mint along a trail. Exchange an understanding look with a doe with her fawn at her side. Look into the night sky and hope to spot a shooting star.
I am thankful for the good fortune of being born in a place with so much natural beauty, and of being able to remain here and to raise my own children here. Am I ready to leave it? Absolutely. I have a very long list of road trip destinations. I’m afraid my passport is going to mold. You can bet I am ready to go away. But the truly wonderful thing is knowing how happy I will be to come home. M! February/March 2015
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