Though most of the leaves are still green, they are beginning to rustle. I enjoy watching the season come bit by bit. On the back of one of my favorite photographs, made about ten years ago from the back porch looking west just as the sun went down behind the trees around the lake, I wrote "The sun goes down on my world.
Also, I am bothered to think I could view this as the limit of my world. Many places and people lie far beyond this view. We do not have to travel away from home to see things of interest and beauty. Many of my favorite places are on the back roads near home-although the ice storm and harvesting of timber have taken their toll in many areas. I enjoy riding these roads time after time. On some of these I have stopping places where the views are breathtaking and the solitude is refreshing.
I like being alone with God, just letting the beauty of nature flood my being. I can spend little or much time with Him and feel cleansed of anxieties, frustrations, disappointments, and limitations I may be experiencing. Many of the roads, though now numbered, are unnamed, unidentified to strangers and identified to those in the area by the names of some feature, some family, or some event on that road.
My children were fascinated by the story of how Peddlers Field Road got its name and loved to take friends from town there—the closer to dark it was, the better they liked it. This was located at the home of Mr. Will and Mr. Fred Turpin. When I think of the Turpins, I think also of Mr. Harry Turpin and the tall tales he told, making real-life occurrences sound like tales handed down by generations.
When Bob and Beth lived away, each time they came for a visit Beth took a ride over her favorite roads. She especially liked the fall, and, when she was away. I could hardly enjoy this season without missing her sorely In Houma, Louisiana, where they were living, there were no hills and very few pretty trees. On a visit before Bob and Beth moved here, I realized Bob had gone out the front door and lingered outside.
