Country Rides

I enjoy riding in a car. The everyday back and forth to work has its moments, like when I see the sun rising, its brilliant orange-red splendor lightened by pink shades higher up, or the glitter of a full moon lighting up the western sky in the early morning. I am reminded of what great artwork God creates.

But a ride in the country is peaceful for me, never boring. I love to look at barns – old, new, rickety, freshly painted, red, weathered, grey or white. It doesn’t matter. There is something about a barn that calls out to me.

Seeing tractors or farm machinery reminds of a farmer out in the field toiling to grow a crop. I picture him out there alone with his thoughts during the day, in the sunshine, watching the soil turned and tilled, changing colors in front of his eyes, pretty patterns creating artwork in the earth.

Then there are the cows in the field grazing or grouped in a circle, their heads all facing inward, their tails swiping away flies. I love to see horses, their heads bowed to the ground as they get their nourishment, a tree nearby, and a wooden or barbed wire fence around the area. Sometimes they are just standing still, their coat shining in the sun, their manes blowing gently in the breeze, their tails swishing back and forth. To be able to stand on a fencepost and feed one an apple or some grains would be such a treat.

I wonder if all these wonderful feelings I have about farms and the country come from memories of my childhood. Sundays were known for rides to the country in our family. My parents would take us for rides on the pretense of “finding a farm to buy”. It was probably just a cheap form of entertainment because I doubt my parents really ever considered living in the country.

Jeff and I especially would get excited about this. To us, living on a farm with animals and lots of space to play would be like Heaven. I never have lived on a farm, never really lived in the country, but being in the country is still very peaceful for me. When I camp, I feel about as close to living in the country as I probably ever will experience. At my age, I don’t have a desire for a lot of property to maintain or the responsibility of farm animals. But as a child, this was unfathomable bliss.

My grandparents also would often take one or two of their grandchildren for a ride in the country. One ride with my grandparents stands out in my memory. For some unknown reason I had a fear of pigs. My grandfather decided that he would help me overcome this fear. While we were out riding, he saw a farm with pigs in the field near the road. Unbeknownst to me, we got out of the car to look at the animals and they were PIGS. I remember him helping me to stand on the fencepost to get a good look, and then when I realized what type of animal they were, I let out the loudest wail possible. I was scared to death. Thanks Grandpa for trying but it didn’t work. Now, maybe because of that memory and knowing how much my grandfather cared about me and how he tried to help, I have an especially warm feeling towards pigs. I can look at them now while they are in the fenced in areas of fairs and say how cute they are, although I really don’t like their smell.