you know?
i've been meaning to post this for the past few days and, ironically, i have forced myself to cram it down now when i have only a few free minutes before heading out the door. regardless:
to get to camp every morning i take the 'back roads' through amherst (south baboosic, pond parish, spring, thortons ferry, peaslee) and there's this farm... well, not really a farm but an old farm house with all this land. the house isn't huge but you can tell it's probably one or two hundred years old and the owners have done a decent job maintaining it. it has the most picturesque fields rolling behind it, but not just empty fields. more like patches of big, welcoming opening space with the most precisely positioned trees and high grass separating each area. i always imagine some family, probably sixty or eighty years ago, laying out their crop land and leaving a few scraggly oak trees that are now these huge majestic beacons separating all the individual fields. the crops are gone, it's just big expanses of grass now, and every morning when i pass it around 7:45 it always has this thin mist- almost like a fog but not quite- rising up from the grass about 6 or 8 feet into the air. and the morning sun casts this orange hue across the whole scene, which mixes with the green-blue of the mist and just looks so incredible. and every morning i tell myself i'll stop my car and take a picture but i never do. and i wonder if taking a picture would do any good, because it's one of those things that has such an unexpected yet crystal-clear effect on you it's like you don't need a picture... just drive by every morning, slow down, gaze out, wonder, and keep driving. and maybe the thing that affects me the most is that way out, literally at least a hundred yards from the road/house is this patio in the middle of the field, with a big oak tree nearby providing some shade, and it has a table and some chairs, and some big umbrellas that are always closed. and i just imagine how nice it would be to sit out there late at night with whoever, in this perfect field. and maybe it's the fact that i'm always on my way to work when i pass it that makes it so alluring, but i swear it is the most captivating thing. it is easily the most beautiful thing i see every day and it's weird to so adamantly look forward to something so minor. yet i do, and i enjoy it. maybe i'll take a picture.
to get to camp every morning i take the 'back roads' through amherst (south baboosic, pond parish, spring, thortons ferry, peaslee) and there's this farm... well, not really a farm but an old farm house with all this land. the house isn't huge but you can tell it's probably one or two hundred years old and the owners have done a decent job maintaining it. it has the most picturesque fields rolling behind it, but not just empty fields. more like patches of big, welcoming opening space with the most precisely positioned trees and high grass separating each area. i always imagine some family, probably sixty or eighty years ago, laying out their crop land and leaving a few scraggly oak trees that are now these huge majestic beacons separating all the individual fields. the crops are gone, it's just big expanses of grass now, and every morning when i pass it around 7:45 it always has this thin mist- almost like a fog but not quite- rising up from the grass about 6 or 8 feet into the air. and the morning sun casts this orange hue across the whole scene, which mixes with the green-blue of the mist and just looks so incredible. and every morning i tell myself i'll stop my car and take a picture but i never do. and i wonder if taking a picture would do any good, because it's one of those things that has such an unexpected yet crystal-clear effect on you it's like you don't need a picture... just drive by every morning, slow down, gaze out, wonder, and keep driving. and maybe the thing that affects me the most is that way out, literally at least a hundred yards from the road/house is this patio in the middle of the field, with a big oak tree nearby providing some shade, and it has a table and some chairs, and some big umbrellas that are always closed. and i just imagine how nice it would be to sit out there late at night with whoever, in this perfect field. and maybe it's the fact that i'm always on my way to work when i pass it that makes it so alluring, but i swear it is the most captivating thing. it is easily the most beautiful thing i see every day and it's weird to so adamantly look forward to something so minor. yet i do, and i enjoy it. maybe i'll take a picture.