The neutrality of gravel roads

We’re enjoying another windy day, although the direction from which it’s blowing has changed. I noticed corn at the tasseling stage in several cornfields this morning as I drove to the Granddaughter’s to share readings. The drive also showed roadsides are now beautified with scattered clumps and clusters of bee balm and black-eyed Susans. Sumac bushes are developing fruit clusters. We must be approaching peak summer. As to the visit,  I think I enjoyed “The Cat on the Mat” more than she did, but she’s a little young to appreciate the finer nuances of verse and rhymes like cat, mat, rat, hat, fat. I found them inspirational.

Early this morning, in the field behind the house, we saw the first wild turkey poults of the year. It looks as though a whitetail doe was working as a guard deer while the hens showed the poults around. Scenes like that are part of what folks talk about when they mention the healing powers of nature. Being able to notice the beauty of flower-filled roadside ditches while driving past at 30 mph instead of twice that is another.

gravel road: where people are just people

Photo by J. Harrington

There were a couple of folks walking the gravel country roads this morning. We waved as I slowly drove past. It occurred to me that civility and neighborliness comes easier if we don’t try to pass that kind of behavior through a political filter. I might have been neighborly with a MAGA tRump supporter to whom I wouldn’t give the time of day if I knew that’s what they were. Each of the walkers might have extended a middle finger instead of an open-handed wave if they knew I was a left-leaning liberal who votes Democratic. Might country roads, the ditch-lined, gravel-surfaced, hobby farm surrounded kind, be a kind of neutral corner where we could meet as people not wearing labels? Could that help turn down the intensity of chronic irritation many of us are constantly experiencing? Right up until a couple of teens come roaring past on ATVs.

Night Drive

by Ted Kooser

Ten seconds ahead, a red reflector
on a fence post turns and looks back,
and, seeing our headlights, skips into

the weeds on the shoulder. It’s never in
much of a hurry but it sees that we are,
and lifts a glowing mitten as we pass.

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Please be kind to each other while you can.