I’ve heard the women talk about a walk they take in the mornings up here in God’s country.
I have been invited to join them but at the moment it’s all I can do to get up and follow my own routine of prayers, journalling and yoga without getting up any earlier to be social before dawn.
“I’m going to Florida next week, ” is my excuse, “I may join you when I return.”
In the meantime I take the talked about route in the afternoons, in my own time.
The countryside is big and wild, the Brangus bulls bellow at me as I pass,
sometimes I believe it to be my bright t-shirt catching their eyes and I wonder if they may charge me and if they do, will that fence hold?
Other times I see them eying one another and I imagine they’re bawling in frustration at being stuck in the mud…
I’ve seen lambs, adorably white next to their grimy Mums,
and turtles in the road that need rescuing.
The area abounds with lovely houses and yellow fields of swaying grasses. Is it wheat?
On Sunday I rode my bike…yes along the gravel lane up to the paved farm to market…and discovered that during the week I had almost walked to the oldest town in Collin County, Weston, stopping at a bend in the road, not sure how much further it wended.
While I cycled down the country road and turned a corner, low and behold I came upon a field I recognized and heard the familiar roar of hoofed beef,
“I know where I am!” I said to no-one.
My longtime friend came out for lunch this weekend and as we walked the grounds I remarked,
“This does look like England.”
“England is tamer, people have farmed it and lived on it for centuries, it seems gentler somehow.”
“Yes,” I agreed. She was right.
“Yours is the first house to be built on this land since the creation of the earth…” she pointed out, “you’d be hard pushed in England to find such untouched property.”
I thought of our Victorian Parish Church in Beckenham, steeped in history, beneath it ruins of ancient sacred places of worship dating back to the 1st century.
“Perhaps some Indians camped by your creek,” she modified.
I have nestled her observation in my heart for later contemplation, the notion of untouched land since time began too great a one to surrender to passing thought.
God found this place for us and entrusted it to our care.
I walked her down to where the creek had burst its banks,
“And if you’ve had no problems with flooding at your house after all this rain, then you probably never will,” she added.
What a gift!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
No comments so far!
Leave a Comment