E
Evening
Tonight we had a wonderful family outing to a lavender farm north of us--my mom and stepdad, husband, son and son's girlfriend. Great singer-songwriter, beautiful grounds, scent of lavender in the air, picnic dinner on blankets, heirloom tomatoes and basil from the garden, a peach pie made with the peaches from our own peach tree. Evening was setting in as we lingered, drinking my stepdad's homemade wine--a nice dry, white Muscat. The shade of the pines deepened, the air cooled, and we sat on our blankets, laughing, catching up, enjoying our time together. As husband and I drove home, feeling happy and connected to the people who love us, a spectacular sunset was unfolding over the rolling hills. Windows down, fireflies, sky going pink, orange, purple. Midwestern midsummer's evening. This is why, I think, exactly why I am so deeply connected to this place. It's not a place everyone would want to live. It takes someone who can see beauty in a sunset over round-topped grain silos, in the particular spicy scent of a field of sweet corn, in the peace of a slow, wide river, in a tree heavy burdened with rosy-skinned peaches. It takes, maybe, deep connections to family and a childhood spent smelling these smells and catching fireflies in these sunsets. I crave different places myself sometimes. I crave mountains and thundering rivers with white water. I crave ancient rock faces and sea breezes. But on evenings like this, a sense of place passes over me. A sense of peace passes over me. I am happy right here, right now, on this amazing Indiana summer evening.
Tonight we had a wonderful family outing to a lavender farm north of us--my mom and stepdad, husband, son and son's girlfriend. Great singer-songwriter, beautiful grounds, scent of lavender in the air, picnic dinner on blankets, heirloom tomatoes and basil from the garden, a peach pie made with the peaches from our own peach tree. Evening was setting in as we lingered, drinking my stepdad's homemade wine--a nice dry, white Muscat. The shade of the pines deepened, the air cooled, and we sat on our blankets, laughing, catching up, enjoying our time together. As husband and I drove home, feeling happy and connected to the people who love us, a spectacular sunset was unfolding over the rolling hills. Windows down, fireflies, sky going pink, orange, purple. Midwestern midsummer's evening. This is why, I think, exactly why I am so deeply connected to this place. It's not a place everyone would want to live. It takes someone who can see beauty in a sunset over round-topped grain silos, in the particular spicy scent of a field of sweet corn, in the peace of a slow, wide river, in a tree heavy burdened with rosy-skinned peaches. It takes, maybe, deep connections to family and a childhood spent smelling these smells and catching fireflies in these sunsets. I crave different places myself sometimes. I crave mountains and thundering rivers with white water. I crave ancient rock faces and sea breezes. But on evenings like this, a sense of place passes over me. A sense of peace passes over me. I am happy right here, right now, on this amazing Indiana summer evening.
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