When you gaw instead of gee

The magnificence of maples and oaks and birches with pines interspersed was dizzying. Ancient rocks pushing through the ground, reminders of ice age glaciers cutting through the vast valleys and hills of Northern Wisconsin, were powerful in the early morning sun. As I drove the interstate toward home, I felt as if I had been dropped into a bowl of candy corn.

I love Autumn so much. I can’t seem to let it go. Not yet. I want to see it and hold it in my view for as long as possible, a Midwesterner’s reward for the brutally hot, dry summer we had and memories to keep close when the long winter settles in. Do you ever feel like holding on to a season for as long as you can? 

I stopped at a rest area near Black River Falls and walked around a bit, stretching my legs after hours driving. In the thirteen years I’ve made this drive, I’ve never stopped at this wayside. I walked about and I wondered why, grateful to find something new on a familiar path. The view was picturesque and I learned that one of Wisconsin’s major crops is peat moss grown in the area. Who knew?

I stopped at the apple orchard I mentioned a few blogs past, happy to know it was still selling apples this late into October, and that it was open so early in the day. I hauled a half bushel of Cortlands, a red cabbage, and butternut squash into the car, deciding to gaw rather than gee as I drove out the drive. My reward was such a pleasant country road, with gentle turns and swaths of sun brushing across the farmland.

Oh, the russet colored wonders of corn stalks drying under such a blue sky with the colors of Autumn for company.

Pulling to the side of the lane to take pictures, I could hear the gurgling sound of Sandhill Cranes, so high I couldn’t see them migrating south, reminding me to continue my journey home.

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