Dusty Roads to the Heart

Hey --- I'm ready for a laugh --- aren't you?  Some of you have heard this story but here it is in writing.  So set back and find out what it REALLY is like "down on the good ole farm" The other day my hubby was sending me out to bale.  I hadn't done it for awhile so I asked for a few minor pointers --- just to help the process go a bit smoother.  I don't want you to get the wrong idea --- I would do just fine --- really but you know how you like to make the Mr. feel important and all. After patiently answered my questions -- he laughed and said "You know honey I really get a kick out of hearing you tell people you would rather overhaul a tractor than clean the house,  Really now --do you even know the difference between a spark plug and a muffler?"  WOW!!!  ok  I'll be the first to admit -- I can drive them -- but to figure them out!!!???  Hey that's why I'm married ---right?  right!!! There was a time though --- a number of years

It will soon be a week now that I hopped in the old pick-up with bucket in tow.  The morning was bright with sunshine -- a promise of a beautiful day.  Today my big sisters son was to become a husband,  I was asked to find some flowers for decoration.  It took me to a old homestead not far down the road.  There among the unmowed grass the weeds I found a whole bucket full of beautiful orange, yellow and white flowers. I found something else that day -- there among the grass, the weeds and the vines-- I found a place of peace for the soul as I sat there in the quiet remembering -- yesteryear. You take a long lane back into the pasture away from the main road.  A tiny, rusty old mailbox sets on a stand that leans a bit to the lift.  Tall weeds and grass grow on both sides of the lane, and some coming up in the middle --- leaving only a trail really. At the end of that trail -- along a little creek -- use to stand a old farmhouse.  There a little family use to work, and play and lau

Grandpa and I stand on the back porch --- waving ---waving--- as the last car disappears and is hidden from sight. Tucked away somewhere among all those suitcases -- and pillows -- and little swimming suits -- car seats -- paper plates -- food -- is a little piece of our hearts. It is quiet --- oh so terribly quiet.  A single plane flies over head. A bob-white calls from somewhere in the north 40.  A robin chirps overhead --- but it is SO quiet. The old stock tank stands empty---its dirty water looking up at us. The slip and slide lays limp in the grass.  The picnic table stands alone under the old tree.  The four - wheeler stands quiet in the shed.  It is just so quiet --- my heart tries not to hurt --- but a tear slides down my cheek -- and then another -- and yet another. I tiptoe into the house.  Looking --- looking for what??  Maybe little smiley faces --- maybe hoping to hear the sound of little feet as they pitter-patter across the floor to me?  But all I see is dirty dish

We are back in the hay fields --- my most favorite place to be.  I love the free feeling you get going round and round that field of dark green with little purple flowers blowing in the hot Kansas winds.  Round and round you go --- your mind running as free as the hawk souring high above.  Not a care in the world. Behind you lay the fresh cut windrows and in front little bunnies jump to freedom.  All around you little white and yellow butterflies flitter and dart among the purple blossoms.  A creek runs down through the alfalfa field and along its banks grow the large cottonwoods reaching to the skies. A little deer jumped up in front of me today and ran to the shelter of those trees. The only thing that would make it better is if the tractor did not have a cab.  I use to love the feel of the hot sun in my face and on my back ---  and the wind blowing through my hair.  It seemed to just melt the worries away.  When you looked in the mirror at the end of day --- you would see a di

As I write this post I am remembering our dear cousin Sharon and family and all my other friends who are saying good-bye to a part of their heart.  I hope you can find peace for your dear heart. Peace it hearing a turtledove's call in the distance drinking lemonade with a friend in the back porch swing  having a heart that's ok with the world walking barefoot along the creek hear the bull frog crock on a summers evening feeling the silvery light of the moon all around you moonbeams streaming through your window laying in bed and all you hear is your breathing hearing a mother cow call for her baby the hush that comes after a storm watching a hawk soar high in the country sky watching a sunset paint the western sky fixing fence under the big blue Kansas sky strolling down the ole dusty road --hand in hand with a friend the old tire swing hanging by its rope in the shade of the old oak tree a fishing pole over your shoulder and a twig between yo

There is a highway that we travel sometimes.  It winds north of interstate through the beautiful canyons of western Kansas.  I call this highway the "road of my dreams.  I don't even know if my husband knows the real feelings of my heart when we drive that road. I just love to set quiet and let my eyes take my heart to a place there on the canyons edge.  What would it be like to have a home there under that huge blue sky? You can see for miles --- you see there are hardly no trees.  Only short sagebrush and soap weed cactus.  And that sky --- a soft blue with a milky type of cloud --- going on and on and on until it melts into the earth. I can only imagine spending a day under that beautiful sky.  You see --- I don't really care for horses.  I prefer the four wheeler.  But you can't hear the beauty on one of those -- so we will  saddle up a horse.  Out we ride --- the sky is a dark blue and the sun is high over head.  On we go through the sage brush, the soap we