I
took the back roads home from lunch yesterday. Have to go by the
Highway Patrol station. Why is it I always feel uneasy (okay, guilty)
when I see a patrol car--even when it's sitting empty in the parking
lot. I mean I was doing all of 15 mph. And I think they like having
their station on a gravel road so they can look cool peeling out when
they get an emergency call.
The
gravel is pretty much gone by this time of the year. The roads are just
a hard pan decorated with pot holes. I have no idea where all the
gravel goes. I drive slowly, but then I always drive slowly on my treks
through the back roads. Slow. Slower. Slowest. It's the only way to
go. Even complete stop works best at times.
The landscape seems
to have expanded. With the leaves gone I can see deep into the
hideaways of the thickets and stands of trees along the way. Places of
mystery in summer, hiding places for the deer, they are now porous and
open. And with the beans and corn harvested, the contours of the fields
are visible and picturesque. With no corn to hide the view, it seems
as if you can see for miles--miles you didn't know were there before.
Open. I like the sensation. And "new" homes have suddenly
appeared--privacy blown away by the autumn winds.
The wild flowers
are, of course, long gone. In hiding until next year. And there are no
barn swallows on the wires. Even the mourning doves have gone off to
who knows where (one of my favorite places) even though I know they
spend the winter in Ohio. And no buzzards soaring through the gray blue
skies. Glorious from a distance; somewhat grotesque up close. I guess
the road kill is tastier farther south this time of year. There was
some activity. I actually passed a van. "Hi"--even though they can't
hear me. The obligatory wave. Backroad tradition, remember. And one
farmer was still finishing reaping his corn. His reaper must have been a
little angry to be one of the last to have to work before winter's
rest. Had "spit" some shucked ears out on to the road. The crows and
Canadian geese are serving as gleaners. Too bad they don't have a
love-sick Boaz to tell the reapers to leave a little extra for the
gorgeous gleaner coming up behind. Not that either of them would fall
into the "gorgeous" category. I can relate.
The only drawback to
traveling gravelless gravel roads is that you can see the floor of the
one lane wooden bridges over the creeks. A great test for your faith.
They look a little splintered and worn this time of year. And that's
another frustration, now that I think of it. There are several back
roads that have barriers in front of them with the ominous warning
"bridge out" so and so many miles down the way. As a dedicated explorer
of back roads, it's difficult to handle such privations. When, pray
tell, am I going to get to slowly explore those roads? I mean, come on
Morrow County ODOT, it's been a couple years for some of them. Torture.
Don't they know that "curiosity killed the cat owner"? Guess I need
to run for county commissioner. On a platform of "bring bridges back to
Morrow County." At least I'd find out who the other hopeless romantics
are.
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