When you’re whizzing through life on the interstate at
expected typical speeds, you don’t see the little things. Sure, you notice the signs where you’re going
to shop to get food or gasoline or for that much needed potty break. The small things go zipping by almost blurred
by your ambition to get to where you’re going.
For the last two months, I’ve had a crash course in country
girl living. Rural America 101 handed
me a lesson in buying propane, septic tank maintenance, the one handed steering
wheel neighbor wave, remembering who drives which tractor, that irrigated fields
mean lots of bugs and coyotes like to sing but mostly at night. I also learned that my signature scent is
Deep Woods Off, even though I live on the prairie. I learned that it never hurts to pray for
rain in church and that you need at least three good revolving pot luck
recipes. Your boots should be ready for
dancing at any minute and your mud boots near the front door (if left outside
overnight) need a good shake before you trustfully thrust your feet inside of
them.
The one thing I’ve noticed is HOW to notice. Let that sink in for a second. In past blogs I’ve discussed that we’re a
society that has to have everything now and can’t make up its mind about
anything. To notice something is a
little more than just seeing it.
Noticing it and noticing it well means to take it in, think about it, and
even ask some questions about it. I know
you must have that running voice in your head too. I first noticed some of the smaller things
about my new life one night on a bike ride through a neighboring farmer’s
field. As the sun lazily started to sink
in the sky and the water-colored sunset started to put itself up on display for
Bent County, other small changes happened.
It was as if nature had a script, a stage manager and was right on-cue. The bugs started biting. The smell of the near-by pond showered a
faint smell of fish over the fields. The
temperature dropping ever so slightly was obvious on my bare legs. I peddled faster and noticed that just a few
hundred yards down a straight country county road the temperature was warmer
again, then cooler. It was
nerdtastically fascinating for me. Then
I noticed how beautiful perfectly clean straight rows of freshly planted crops
looked as the sun's waning rays shone over the field.
We do not notice things not because we are not looking for
them. We rush by life in cars with
rolled up window. We don’t notice humidity changes because there are weather
professionals to tell us what the weather will do. Our senses are dulled because it is done for
us. In the country, people listen to the television reports but trust that
looking outside is probably still the best way to know what’s coming. You FEEL it, you SMELL it and you SEE it.
There’s a lot to notice out here and where you are too. I hope when you take a walk you’ll notice
certain smells, changes in the air and sounds in the air. Fully putting to use your five senses is one
of the best ways to feel alive.
~Anne
