There are a lot of amazing places in this world. Some I've visited, many more that I hope to. But the most beautiful place in the world I get to call my home.
Where I live, the back roads are framed in by cornfields so high you can't see anything but the sky over top, with the exception of maybe a few silos. Big white barns leave their doors cracked open, a glimpse of tobacco inside hanging upside down to dry. Horses pull buggies down the road, three, four, five little faces peeking out the back window, bonnets and straw hats, so adorable. We wave as we pass, they wave back. Roadside stands full of produce just gathered from that very farm. A little metal cash box, self serve. Honesty and integrity are highly valued here. The byproduct? A trusting community. Our fairs are still old-fashioned, our standard of living is still (mostly) simple. In June the fields light up with fireflies twinkling like pixie dust in the velvet night. In September there's burnt color everywhere, fresh pressed apple cider for sale, pumpkin stacks on front porches all over. In December there's stark clean landscapes, covered with powdery white, the coziness of home, smoke drifting out of chimneys into the lavender sky. In March there's the first glimpse of spring that bursts forth draping everything in green and fresh color by April. We have the best of all four seasons.
There are horizons un-marked by telephone poles. There are single lane covered bridges, chatty little creeks gushing underneath. There are cow pastures and horse farms and orchards. There are little old towns made up of lots of brick and stone. One room school houses, simple swing sets in the side yard. Wash lines from porch to barn, clothes cascading down the line in regiment, whipping in the breeze. Some of the richest soil in the world. There's space to dream. I am abundantly blessed to live where I do.
There are entirely too many times where I drive down the same roads I always do completely un-moved by the beauty around me. Busy planning the day ahead, analyzing the day before, distracted by my jumbled thoughts to notice the peacefulness in the atmosphere around me. Then there are days where I purposefully roll down my windows, let the sunshine and fresh air pour in as I drive, and I simply marvel at it all. And I thank the Lord for this place I call home.
[This post is part of a 31 day series on being present in the moment]