It will always be home to me...

Today I went "home," meaning childhood "home." It's so different now, the exterior has been altered, and not for the better I might add, what we once nurtured is so neglected now, so many of the trees of my youth are no longer there, the tacky outbuildings that the last owner erected are unfamiliar to me, spoiling the view of the acreage behind the house. Gone is the wooden railed porch with it's wonderful old creaky porch swing, the soft dove gray wood siding has been replaced by vinyl, the paned wooden "front door" with it's big brown porcelain knob that opened using a skeleton key is long gone as well... So many things have changed... except for the lay of the land.

That's the one thing that doesn't change, the turns in the road, the way my beloved ditch snakes its way alongside the property, the hills and valleys of the nearby fields, and finally the very best part, the one constant thing I can depend on, the country sounds. As always, I asked LC to stop near the house, turn off the engine, roll down the windows and then I just sat and listened to the quiet. Those old familiar sounds envelop me like a soothing balm, the chirping of the birds, the smell of the earth, the wind rustling in the trees. That's the best part, the rest of it just isn't the same anymore, but then neither am I.

I got out of the car, with my sweet little Maggie scampering at my feet, and I watched her for awhile, standing next to the road of my childhood, and then I snapped this picture of her, took a cleansing breath, scooped her up, got back into the car, rolled up the window, and as we drove away, I was smiling.

I'm grateful, this Friday evening in January, for my simple, country childhood, for family and friends and sweet little dogs and for being able to revisit my roots, however briefly, even if it isn't the same...