The Old Place

The land where my mother and uncle grew up is referred to as The Old Place. It's way back on dirt roads, and the only building still standing from the original homestead is an old barn. I don't know how many acres are there, but it's a generous country space.

The parcel that was my grandparents' has been cut into two sections and eventually, each of the three grandchildren will get a segment of it. At one time, Indians lived there. Arrowheads sometimes wash up from the red clay. It was a working farm when my grandparents lived there. Now, we mostly use the various parts of the property as hay fields, tree farms, and animal pasturage.

My uncle and cousins hunt there sometimes, and it's a wonderful place to animal watch. There are turkeys, deer, rabbits, all manner of smaller creatures such as raccoons, and today I startled (as much as it's possible to do) an armadillo. I figure we've also got bobcats there somewhere, but I've never seen one.

Toward the back side, a small creek cuts through the property. In part of the property, there are three fields stepping down to this creek and one across it. It is, quite simply, one of the most beautiful places on earth to me. I used to go every time I was home from Japan and take pictures just to be able to take it with me.

Sitting in the pastures, no sound of the outside world intrudes. It's so rare to find any place now where the sound of traffic doesn't trickle in, but at the Old Place, the main sound is the sighing of an ever-present wind through the tops of the trees. It sits high in the clay hills surrounding Podunk, and because of its position on a high ridge, there is always moving air. The only real sign of modern civilization are an old car rolled up in the edge of the woods and left to die and the silvery flash of a cellular tower two or three hills away. Planes don't fly over often, and traffic is infrequent.

The sky is clear, too. Even though there are deep woods elsewhere on the property, the fields are open enough to watch the weather changing. At night, there is simply no light pollution and it's possible to see the entire sky.

There are times when it becomes absolutely necessary for me to go back there. Today was one of those days. I was wrestling with a big issue and I really couldn't even think at home. I went out to take care of running the church bulletin, and almost without thought, I found myself skidding down the dirt roads and at the gate to the Old Place.

Even though I wasn't wearing "Outdoor Clothes", I slid under the gate and walked into the second field, the Red Field, and just sat down. The sky was golden with the light that only comes just before a storm. As I sat there, I watched the ballooning storm clouds roll across the horizon. It was almost hypnotic. I wish I had taken my camera.

Through the magic of cellular technology, I was finally able to call a friend and talk about what was bothering me and find some relief. I don't think I could have made that call if I hadn't been there. The line from Gone with the Wind comes to mind where Rhett tells Scarlett that she draws strength from the red clay of Tara. For me, it's not an antebellum plantation, but I feel that way, too.

Someday, I want to build a house there. Maybe only a small one that I can go to on the weekends or something, but I would like to have a place there in all that peace that I can go to when I need to recharge.