Backroads of Morrow County Update: Seeking the Stillness

I felt impelled today to take to the backroads of Morrow County.  Perhaps I could excuse it as a
"test drive"?  The little red wagon broke down three days ago.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that it broke down right across the street from Hometown Auto Repair and my old friend Bob.  All I had to do was push the little red wagon across the street (no, I have not named it Rosebud) and let Bob do his magic.  So, perhaps I could call today a "test drive."  It really wasn't.  An inner urge sent me there.  I needed the stillness of backroads.
The corn is humongous.  If you were to wander off in it, you would disappear from sight.  Go "aways" (country lingo is required) into the greenery, play the child game of "spin until you're dizzy," and you could get lost--like a scene from "Little House on the Prairie."  But alas, you would find your way out again; it's only acres here to wander in and not the vastness of the old prairie of days gone by--endless in scope and imagination.  The soy beans are doing well too, but they were not made to be mazes.  The wheat is all harvested.  After the year of the flood, as soon as things began to dry out, the reapers moved in and the golden fields are gone.  The only sign of the flood is the swamp across from me.  A dozen rows of corn are still under water, the "new" pond is alive with a family of mallards, I sat and watched awhile at the very onset of my wanderings.  You need not go far out here in the country to find still beauty.  Yes, the activity of the baby ducks and the protectiveness in the actions of the parents was a stillness.
As usual, I met no one on the backroads.  They were mine to traverse at my speed with no danger of incurring the impatience of another traveler.  I did pass a couple of fellow Morrow County-ians mowing their lawns--mowing their fields in front of their houses.  I wave.  They always wave back, it's a "rule."  Of course, they then get to spend the afternoon asking themselves, "who was that, I wonder.?"  I am a mysterious stranger--but a friendly one.
Several fields are decorated in hay bales.  I will never grow tired of the peacefulness of that scene.  Today, with the blue sky and nary a single cloud anywhere, beautiful.  Rolling green hills, round bales of hay scattered everywhere, etched on that pure blue canvas--I could have sat there forever and absorbed the quiet, the stillness.  Of course, there are hills populated with cattle, hills populated with sheep, and even, one new farm that has a herd of goats.  Their field is overgrown with weeds and thickets and day lilies.  I guess the farmer just wants the field mowed by goat instead of by tractor.  I know Dennis' two goat buddies will eat anything--the thornier the better.  They must have mouths of steel.  It makes me cringe just to watch them munch. Ugh. 
There are not many wild flowers at the moment.  The county mowers have cut down most of the day lilies that call the ditches their home.  Lots of Queen Anne's Lace everywhere.  A few yellow sunflower like blooms near some of the bridges.  Must be water lovers of some kind.  I don't know their name.  I think I'll call them King George's just to bring a little balance into the world of flower nomenclature.  Hey, I can do that if I want.
I spent the longest time just sitting at the top of a little rise just past one of my favorite farm houses.  No one can see me there.  Deep woods and thickets on my left.  Acres of tall corn on the rolling hills to my right.  No one on the road but me.  Still.  Quiet.  Flashes of yellow and black in the thickets.  A little rustling of the leaves and the corn in the wind.  An autumn like day in Ohio--clear, cool, blue.  I suppose you think me a strange old man to need such moments in my life.  But I do.  My spirit at times needs aloneness.  Stillness.  I find it on my backroad jaunts. 
I arrive back home.  My little ramshackle cave is completely invisible from the road.  I meander down my cow path and creep up toward the house.  The porch lights are on, but even they from the road are invisible.
Inside, I will sit awhile in the deepening darkness.  It will be quiet there too--well, I will have to deal with a little bit of cat nagging.  Tonight, I will create a new game:  "counting the lightning bugs."  That will be a quiet game at Iten's Acres minus the children and jars.  Good bye for now.  I'm going to continue my love affair with the stillness.  Shhhh.  Be still.