There are some things that offer a deeper engagement to me more-so than others, and one I can speak to is that of 'walking on a country road'. Much akin to the western cowboy nature bred within me and spoken to 'by seeking solitude and contentment of being in solitude', even in a crowd. This is who I am, and a country road offers a display I can't resist. You see, I sense my connection to the earth as feet meet gravel, or sand, or rocks or pebbles. Well, just the other day I was walking another lone road and found a perfectly-shaped rock to kick. That rock and I played 'kick' for what must have been a thousand feet, just prior to 'it' edging away into the scrub foliage to the side. So walking a country road, brings me to my roots...
Once in southeast Arizona I stumbled over a rocky road, chalked with powdered dust...and found an old sweat house abandoned by previous Tohono's tribe members. I sat upon the lined rocks, circled around ashes of a fire-once, and just listened to the wind blow up the canyon road. Pure country. Just myself, alone, in peace. I simply don't want anyone to enter my space.
Or in Alaska I found myself north of Anchorage towards Denali, and crooked my head down a muddy inclined road and saw a boreal Chickadee dissolve into the pine stands.
Or Forest Service Road #147 in Arkansas.... a desolate place with nay wind to break up any silence, as I chased after high-top trees for the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker.
And yet even in northern Wisconsin I found a country road spotted with cow-manure as left behind to find their way home to the barn. There, just 'off' this country road in boundaries aligned with splashes of stale water was a flock of Harris's Sparrows.
So, Belleplain offered me a chance if not to find the waterthrush, but yet a chance to once more find myself. Though the waterthrush once again escaped my presence, I have a favorite country road in mind when there. Just prior to turning into the main road to Belleplain HQ, I venture further a bit on Route 550. I turn onto Vine Street and come across a narrowness, past a couple of bland abodes and stop at the 'T"....One must now decide a direction, either right or left. I take 'Right.' This allows me to drive down Steelmantown Road and onto MacKay Crossing roads. I get out and walk. I hear rustling behind trees and skip over puddles. I hear the scrunch of wet sand and look for movement along the side. I stop to ponder now and then. I gauge the longness of the shadows spread out over me from that tall tree, blocking my view from the sun. I listen to Cardinals and catch a glimpse of no waterthrush but of blue...of indigo. At last near the bend in the road I startle a Barred Owl who, like me....was looking for that country road void of all comers. It past me in flight and became once more lost in the trees but only 'over there' and not 'here'. Oh well.... We are both once more alone. We are on our country road.