The snow of yesterday morning didn't last long in the drizzle that came a little later and stayed all day. Friends up toward Somerset threw their annual New Year's Day soiree, a party to which I always look forward. I usually go late, after putting the kids to bed, but given the nasty weather, I decided to show up at the start and leave in time to get back before dark yesterday. Going to my friends' house is like visiting a gallery: he is a professional photographer and she is a painter and sculptress, and their rooms and walls are filled with their personal objets d'art. There is always a convivial crowd and (living in the wild social whirl as I do) it's such fun to be with people I see just once or twice a year. It was hard to leave just as Bud was serving up his famous chili, but duty called.
The last stretch of Gray Rock Road just before my driveway is, in winter, slick with mud, has potholes filled with water, ruts deep enough to bury small animals, and makes me glad I'm driving a big pickup truck. Even going slowly, I was fishtailing my way and wondering if I'd need the four-wheel drive, and then I turned into my drive. I've never lost the feeling that I had when I first saw this place...it's home. The lights I'd left on beckoned through the gloom, and my animals were waiting to welcome me. Bessie Anne greeted me with wags and wiggles as if I'd been gone a week instead of an hour. The cats made figure eights around my feet. Quickly changing clothes, I went out again to put Poppy and the goats to bed and tuck in the chickens. Feeling very much like Dorothy in Oz, I couldn't help repeating over and over, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home." And I'm home.
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2 comments:
Sounds like you've got "one o' them there shovel-ready projects just beggin' for some o' that there stimulus money" on Gray Rock Road! But, all kidding aside, I guess you know you have made the right life decisions when you have those "Dorothy" feelings each time. And, other than the fact that there is no back up for you during your "wild social whirl days," I'd say you are indeed blessed!
I remember the rutted and rough road and appreciate the fact that it is imposing enough to keep normal folk from attempting the drive up, even on a dry day. I would guess the UPS driver who, always pushed by a busy and timed holiday schedule, murmurs a few choice words under his breath as he drives halfway up the drive (in the dark) then stops to gather his courage enough to "man up" and finish the trek to the top and wondering all the while "why do these mountain people insist on living out here?" Well, I say, SOMEONE has to watch over the goats, the chickens, the turkeys, the deer, the coyotes and buzzards! Only the esoteric can appreciate the unique feeling of such a home.
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