Backroads of Morrow County: No Place in Particular March 7, 2013

I took a nice long excursion along the back roads today. I didn't have any particular destination in mind. In fact, No Place in Particular was the exact destination I had in mind. I find such travels therapeutic. My thoughts and my emotions needed a trip to nowhere today.
Though it is only three weeks until the official arrival of spring, there was little evidence of its coming. Some snow is still left over from the snowfall of a couple of days ago--but not much. The rows in the fields seem to collect it, and there are always those locations--shaded for the most part--that will resist any melting. The ponds are not iced over, but they do have patches still. None of the houses in the trees have even begun to go back into hiding. A few--very few--of the fields are plowed. I really don't know if anything has been planted in them yet. Nothing is certainly coming up. What kind of crop would someone plant this time of year? Winter wheat? I confess my ignorance. But the symmetry of a plowed field is lovely.
In fact, despite the winteryness of the landscape, it produces in me a sense of serenity. An "all's right with the world" feeling. There are some sheep in their pastures. Oblivious to my creeping by. One cattle "ranch" has bales of hay out for the creatures. They seem to enjoy the congregating. Cow gossip, I guess. A few hawks, still as silhouettes, sit high on the barren branches of the trees. Mourning doves are everywhere. I guess they aren't on the menu.
I did, eventually, ricochet into Mount Gilead--no, I don't think they sell balm there--and had a bite to eat at the local dive. They do specialize in comfort food. Nice country folks. Full of laughter as they discuss the stories of their lives. Yes, I eavesdrop. Suppress a smile, maybe even a laugh, though I have no idea what has them laughing. Contagious stuff that joy thing.
When I headed back to home, the sky was gray. But off on the horizon was a patch of pale yellow--dare I say, almost ivory. The sun is hidden behind the grayness, but it's glow lightens the distance, announcing that it is still around and just waiting for a break. I have to weave down 25 to avoid the plethora of pot holes. I wonder what a patrolman would think if he saw me. Too much Pepsi, I'm sure. Though it is not dark yet, my porch lights which are light sensitive (lack of light maybe) beckon me back from my meanderings. Homesteader is in the doorwindow, but she's focused on her feathered friends. It is not a "welcome home" party. I know my place in the universe according to cats. Supposedly, a couple days of warmer weather are coming soon. I hope it triggers the crocus, Lenten roses, and snowdrops to begin to show off. I'm ready for a colorful walking of the Acres.