Last weekend, it seemed spring had finally arrived, just as the groundhog had predicted. A warm, "blue-sky above-y" kind of day, just perfect for an afternoon ride outdoors.
My Dad and I took the golf cart out, and spent a good portion of the day exploring some farmland. It's been in the family for more than four generations, and is so different from the other flat land around here, with their productive and dusty plots of crops planted in long, endless rows.
This place is different. It's got fresh coldwater springs hidden away, and deep, jaggedy clay terraces, which remind me of a mini Grand Canyon. The road we travel on curves and twists, and bumps along, like a modern-day safari. You forget about cell phones, and email, and newspapers. All you have is the sky above you and the ground below you, and some woods along the boundaries.
It's peaceful here, and my Dad and I are content in our own thoughts. I wonder what he must be thinking about being here again, after so many years away. I wonder if this spot was just how he remembered it. I think of Scarlett O'Hara, and her father reminding her: "This land, it gets in your blood, Katie Scarlett. Land's the only thing that matters."
