Walking along there I was happy to be back. The dogs needed the air, the freedom, the smells and sights and sounds and all. Their owner also, in the middle morning, inhaled deeply the fragrant smell of wildflowers and fresh summer air. It was shaded and there was time to take an extra long way. We went up the valley ridge. Slowly and relaxed, practically resting as we walked. They scurried off here and there, - down, up, around. Contented. In their element, as it were. There was nobody about, though on the way back we would bump into the old farmer clearing a tree from the path. He would have his medium sized tractor, saw, lumber shirt, jeans, hat, tools, gasoline and other.
Soon enough we went down to where the open fields are at the end of the path. But not before taking a moment and just looking around. See, at the top of the valley we were all alone in a great solitude. We were, as we always are, part of the bird song and rustle of leaves from the breeze. It’s a sacred sort of place, you just have to clear your mind a bit and settle, rest, be, observe, don’t judge one way or the other. The tree tops still covered us and there were purple flowers, red berries, and wild raspberry bushes about to bud.
Going into the open area, many patches of wildflowers swayed in the light wind. Rising up to meet the sun were yellow ones, white ones, and some pink species also. In the middle, a sandpit, a large tree, and a couple old tractors, one with bushes growing out of its insides like quiet green flames.
Dozens of plants, strange, peculiarly shaped, and bees and hornets hovering all around them, are doing work on their leaves and little buds. They didn’t bother me in the least, and let me take their photos. In fact,- so hard at work and happy they were, I don’t think any of them even noticed me.
Going back,- here and there, we take the long way,- the back roads,- and notice an old bike for decoration, a small church that looks like a one room affair made of handsome bricks and an A-Frame or upside down V-shaped roof accompanied by the same but smaller as an entrance. The old steps, a bit rusted near the bottoms of railings, just wait quietly in the sun. The little sign next to the big sign announces that there will be no Sunday school for the months of July and August- or something like that…
And we continue and go off. On either sides are sprawling fields and loams, long drives under old trees, sometimes a hawk or a group of hawks circling under the sun,- and the rest,- the wild grasses, wooden posts, the larger world of the countryside- huge barns- red, silver seeming,- white,- even a grain elevator or two. Inside all of those worlds are surely microcosms, - and that is where insects and bees, small flowers new trees, and perhaps even phantoms from other worlds reside…