You must have had those ‘country moments’; you pass by a roadside scene and smile to yourself. The ‘me-myself-and-I’ times, alone in the car. No matter the original reason for your travel, these moments seem to linger in the mind as part of the real reason we passed down the trail on that given day.
I drove alone to attend the funeral of my great-aunt Meta, at Fergus Falls, Minnesota one sunny, warm morning last week. As usual, I was struck by the ritual of saying good-bye to someone so special. . . to so many. Holding on to life until the age of 97, born and raised a farm-girl along the banks of the Otter Tail River. . . .fishing, raising ducks, chickens and geese, cattle and horses. She was a good, strong woman. . . .mostly just really good. My grandmother was her sister and my mother was her niece and friend. Connections never really die; they simply move along among us and deserve to be acknowledged when our spirit says so.
No good reason why. . . .I found myself slowing down, on the northern edge of Chokio, Minnesota on my way back to Big Stone County. Soon enough, I saw my real reason for slowing. Off to the left, a row of out-dated farm wagons. It only takes an instant for a scene to capture your heart and the smile to break upon your face. So many things to say ‘good-bye’ to in the countryside of life. May as well keep the smile and remember how much I love the fine patina a good coat of rust can provide. The little farm wagons had one more story to tell. . . . of hard work on western Minnesota farms. Must have been some bounteous days filled with grain and some days that started out with a flat tire or ended with a broken hitch. I’m happy to have come upon the little farm wagons, with their good, strong spirit. . . . asking to be remembered.