Sunday Drive on a Friday Night

 

We took a "Sunday drive" last Friday night.  

The term "Sunday drive" originated from leisurely car drives taken on Sundays in the early to mid-20th century as a form of cheap entertainment. That just happens to be the time I was a kid growing up on a Central Kansas farm. I know about "Sunday drives" firsthand as a kid sitting in the backseat of a car while my dad sang songs like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" or "Mairzy Doats." Those - plus "I'm An Old Cowhand" - were also part of the sound track of our trips to visit my grandparents in Sublette. 

If you look up the definition of "Sunday drives," it says that initially, these drives were a form of recreation with no specific destination or time constraints. Over time, the term "Sunday driver" has evolved to describe someone who drives slowly, cautiously or inexpertly, often associated with inattentive drivers. Alternatively, it can mean "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

Since the only living things we saw on our trek off the beaten path were grazing cattle, we didn't bother any other drivers on our foray down country roads. So I guess, in this case, we'll stick with the definition of "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

We ate supper at Sylvia's Oasis restaurant after a fellow golfer recommended the Mexican food there to Randy. On the way home, we took a detour to the Ninnescah Pasture. Randy had been there more recently than I had. One summer when we were still actively farming, we took more trips down that road than any of us would have liked. There was a group of cows and calves that were determined to find the proverbial "greener pastures." No matter what we did, they would not stay in, so we were on 4-wheelers rounding them up more times than either of us wanted. (That group of escapees eventually ended up at the sale barn.) 

Anyway, it was nice to take a leisurely trip down the road - with no purpose in mind, other than checking out the water flow in the Ninnescah ... 

Looking east at the bridge

 

Looking west at the bridge

... And "smelling the roses" - or, in this case -  the wooly verbena. 

 

The road to another familiar pasture - the Rattlesnake Pasture - used to be lined by a tunnel of cottonwood trees, a route I loved in the summer. But several years ago, those aging cottonwoods were cleared away from the road. I'm sure it made practical sense, but I still miss dodging light and shadow as we work our way down that road. I imagined Randy's predecessors 120 years ago appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to the Rattlesnake pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

July 2013 - This was before the township tore down most of the cottonwoods along the road to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

Maybe those nostalgic memories factor into my love of a tree-lined road near the Ninnescah Pasture, where the trees still tower over the dirt road and the sun plays peekaboo among the branches.

 

 You can't beat a Sunday drive on a Friday night.

 

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. 

There are no wrong turns.

-- Susan Magsamen 

 

*** 

And an update on the bridge north of our house: We drove up to the bridge last evening to check out the progress. Completion is definitely closer, but the Road Closed signs remain. However, all the big equipment is gone, and the new guardrails are in place. 

On August 5, the public works guys told Randy that the bridge would be done in 2 weeks. We'll see if their prediction holds true. 

 

Take Me Home, Country Roads

"Painting" filter from my camera

Come and find the quiet center

in the crowded life we lead,

find the room for hope to enter,

find the frame where we are freed:

clear the chaos and the clutter,

clear our eyes, that we can see

all the things that really matter,

be at peace, and simply be.
From a hymn/poem by Shirley Erena Murray
Words copyright 1992, 2005, Hope Publishing Company

Sometimes, going along for the ride is just the destination I need.

Randy wanted to drive down to the Ninnescah pasture to make sure his fence repairs were keeping the cows from exploring the old adage, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

Randy's favorite part of the trip was finding that the cattle were where they belong. My favorite part was a side trip on the way home through a tunnel of majestic old trees with the evening light playing hide and seek with the canopy of green.

 

I got out of the pickup and walked down the road, enjoying the glitter of light on century-old cottonwood trees and their octogenarian neighbors.

It's hard to capture on the camera, but a special filter shows the pinpoints of light streaming through the lush ceiling of green.

It reminded me of a hymn we sang not too long ago at church, which tells us to "clear the chaos and the clutter ... and simply be."

That's not a natural state for me with my to-do lists and expectations. There seems to be this stereotype of a laid-back lifestyle and attitude permeating farm country. But with weather concerns for the past year, employee problems and the farm economy, I'm not feeling that mellow feeling at the moment.

Instead, it feels more like trudging through the sand (or mud) and just trying to slog my way through it.

So stopping on top of the old wooden bridge at the Ninnescah and getting out to watch the water gently ruffle the grasses lining the banks was a quiet diversion.

So was looking up at the backlit green leaves against a blue and white puffy "quilt" of a sky.

I can find that quiet center in God's beautiful canvases painted in evening skies - if I just take the time to go out and look.

Sunset over my folks/brother's circle of corn - Pratt County

Silence is a friend who claims us,

cools the heat and slows the pace,

God it is who speaks and names us,

 knows our being, touches base,

making space within our thinking,

lifting shades to show the sun,

raising courage when we're shrinking,

finding scope for faith begun. ... 
More from the hymn/poem by Shirley Erena Murray

Taken in Pratt County, just north of my folks' house

An update: Our trip to the Ninnescah to check on the cattle last night was not as successful. It was still pretty, but four pair were on the wrong side of the fence. We got two back in, but we'll leave in a few minutes to try and shepherd the rest back to our pasture. 

Tomorrow, the National Master Farm Homemaker Guild convention begins in Manhattan. I'm in charge of the Hospitality Room, so my to-do-lists have their own lists (so to speak)! Here's hoping our visitors from Iowa, Kentucky and Colorado glimpse some of Kansas' beauty during their visit to the Sunflower State.