Prairie Lily Arts

Lord, Not That Kind of Goodbye

 
The same cascade of rain which felt so comforting in the night felt more like teardrops in the morning light.  Words said.  Decisions made.  Somewhere along the way this strong, show-me, fiercely independent girl returned to a tenderness and a vulnerability that now brought stained cheeks and silent lips. 

The text came.  Was I coming? 

I couldn't.  I couldn't say goodbye... even if it was only a partial goodbye.  One of those goodbyes you say in stages... sometimes never knowing when the last one is upon you... just knowing that the road is leading that direction.  I texted back that I couldn't do it.  I watched tail lights glow in the rain and slowly pull away... out of sight.

The buzz of the text came again.  One word... an unfinished thought.  I asked to know the rest. 

Nothing.  As minute built upon minute my heart quickened.  My stomach knotted.  What if something happened?  A truck.  A trailer. Wet, narrow, tightly curved roads.  My fingers stumbled, "Are you ok?"  The ticking of the clock brought no reply.  I called.  I texted. I called again.  No answers.

"Boys, we need to go check.  Get in the car."

Testing the Waters

It's nearly October.  While the sun washed over my face and shoulders with the warmth of its summer kiss, I knew the water had cooled.  The cautious thought of dipping my toes and easing in slowly crossed my mind... briefly.  When my feet reached the water's edge, I plunged into the glistening, glassy blue reflection.   That's just me. 

 
A few passes of the pool and I found myself stopping short.  Since when? 

Never Forget

 
Hypocrite.  It's an ugly label... one I've had to wear lately.

One of the lessons so many of us took away from the terror that was 9/11 and the sacrifice which has followed is to make every day count... every moment.  I vowed not to take time for granted as I pressed my cheek to the sun-bleached silken strands of my toddler son.  Nearly a decade has passed and I've done exactly that.  I've let precious moments slip quietly away... stolen by busyness.  I've given away moments to worry, fear and frustration.  I've let words spew forth in anger... and I've left their mess behind at the close of the day like broken, jagged, scattered glass continuing to inflict pain.  I've allowed my feelings to be hurt too easily... walls to go up too quickly.  So much wasted. Precious time I can never get back.  I can't turn back the clock.

What I can do is ask for grace...

Sending You My Heart

 
The gravel lane meandering to our country mailbox seemed like such an adventurous trail.  Funny how Mom's stride was never quite long enough to catch my bare little bronzed feet padding down the lane.  Two dark braids streamed behind me on the breeze of little-girl laughter.  Fingers creased with dried clay from mud pie creations clasped tightly to family letters.

A Love Story of Seasons

I could sense it on the morning air.  In the gentle gray before sun's first light, with my favorite blanket draped across my shoulders, I felt the change of season approach.  The air has grown cooler.   The blossoms have faded away.  The perfume of my ruby roses is but a sweet memory.  The butterflies which danced so gracefully have gone.  One solitary dancer flits restlessly about, having sailed far from the petals of yesterday.  The summer song drifts through its final strains alone... until there is quiet... stillness. 

A Love Letter To My Boys

 
My Precious Boys,

During play today beneath the scorching August sun of Georgia, I listened as a dear friend shared heart words with me.  What if we didn't have tomorrow? 

What if the lessons I've tried to cobble together as an offering to your hearts so far had to be enough?  I would want to know beyond any doubt that you both know how to love.  If I have planted even the smallest seeds in your hearts to love completely, honestly, sacrificially, unconditionally.... the rest will come.  To love with the kind of love God designed for us to offer is everything.  Boys, it is everything.  

No Matter What

 
Sleepy eyes closed.  Small fingers drew his favorite blanket up to his chin.  I can't even remember what it was now... but I had forgotten to do something for him.  I've heard the words spoken often... because I am so very human.  Beautifully they are offered without a need for me to even apologize first.  "It's ok, Mama.  I forgive you."  In the dim light this time came added whispered little boy words I will never forget, "I will always forgive you."

Paper Treasures

 
We entered in silence.  A bit of reverie.... or perhaps absolute reverie!  The walls towered over our heads... warm, dark, smooth and rich.  The staircase beckoned to layers and layers of volumes untouched in silence.  Sumptuous chairs sat empty.  I drew in the fragrance of old books, like the scent of a cherished friend.  In complete stillness, I stood in awe as if in the quiet I would hear these treasures speak themselves.  Such history.  A room of riches among riches.  The Biltmore library.  I am quite certain I could live contentedly among these four walls. 

Our family values books as voices, experiences, places, events, culture, history, perspective, discovery, adventure and dreams offered by another as a gift placed in our hands.  Our favorite gifts become supple, as worn and tattered the covers convey the accumulation of shared moments.

Where is the Poetry?

Where is the poetry?

Where is its voice in the noise of the day?

Where flows the current of its stream as life sails on?

 

Where is the poetry?

Wrapped in the stillness of the night,

Sometimes I hear it rushing...

Roaring with intensity.

Sometimes it washes gently...

A Fresh Box of Crayons

 
There is something special about that fresh box of crayons.  Every hue tapered to a perfect point.  It is the quintessential smell of back-to-school.  Crisp new books line our shelves.  Unopened.  Beckoning little eyes, hands, ears, minds to discover... to create... to learn... to grow.  Learning is an amazing, lifelong journey. 

On these days of fresh beginnings, I pause to reflect on the gift that my family is blessed to know... this gift of learning with and from one another.  Each person has gifts to share.  Each has lessons to learn... including Mama... especially Mama.  I learn more from this journey than I could ever impart in these treasured days... years.

When Words Dance

 
Words...

Sometimes my best friends.

Sometimes my worst enemies.

Sometimes they ricochet in my mind

Tumbling out in a jumbled heap...

Nothing more than noise...

 

Summer Blooms

 
   Plush as pooled velvet to the eye

Smooth as silken threads upon the skin

Every delicate layer exquisitely pieced,

Interlocking,

Stronger together than apart...

And infinitely more beautiful.

Summer Dance

 

Today I step gingerly,

Eyes wide,

Watching something divinely orchestrated,

Careful lest I disrupt the design...

 Summer's theater

Played out for me.

Warm Fuzzies

 

Warm fuzzies... and it's not just the luxurious caress of a cashmere robe on summer skin, nor the piping hot bath with creamy, lavender bubbles.

Yesterday was a big deal to me.  Milestones. Chapters opening. I was able to share it with a best friend who knew me before I even built the home in which we now laugh.  And then I heard my Dad's voice... my rock.  My mom's voice... my soft place to land.  The voice of a heart friend who shares my penchant for peeking at the last page before the journey is barely underway.  The ding of a news-filled email arriving from a trusted long-time confidante.  The last chocolate cupcake on my grandma's serving dish, topped with a heaping swirl of butter cream.  A birth announcement from the delivery room as a childhood friend becomes a daddy, anew... first moments of a brand-new life.    The momentous, the everyday, the solitary and the shared.

Out of the Park

 
Sometimes you just want to knock one out of the park.

I remember during revival one balmy summer evening much like tonight, we all gathered for a game of softball in the open land behind the church.  I was up.  I could hardly lift the wieldy old wooden bat into position.  There was nothing athletic about me as a little girl.  And I knew if I even made contact with the ball it would just drop like an iron shot at my feet.  Dread washed over me.

How he knew, I do not know. 

Voice of Gratitude

Each week I find joy visiting the blogs of so many friends participating in the Gratitude Community at Holy Experience.  On "Multitude Mondays" they add to their rolling lists of blessings in their lives... big and small... obvious and subtle... fleeting and enduring.  Yesterday, in the still of the night, I thought about writing my first installment to join them.  Somehow my thoughts strayed to our plans for learning this year.  Those ideas spilled into thoughts of my boys... their distinct differences, their unique strengths... all of the things I appreciate and treasure in their young selves.  And then it struck me.  Do I tell them enough... specifically... what I appreciate about them?

 

Focused on the Blur

Bokeh, the art of the blur.  Looking through the lens, I am drawn to it.  I pursue it.  I play with it.  Am I preoccupied with it?  Am I so distracted with the blur of the background that I lose focus on what is important? 

In life?

Sometimes the peripheral can become distracting.  The swirl of busyness invites the eye away from our intentions... 

A Brand New Day

I'm a morning person... and a night owl.  (How did that happen?)  The rising sun bathes the horizon with a daily gift of renewal.  I love to wake up quietly... a cozy quilt... diffused lights... the melody of the birds and the harmony of the creek... the aroma of sweet, cinnamon goodness drifting from the oven.  Bare toes step onto tender, dew-drenched grass, and I drink in the cool morning mist... releasing it slowly.  I ease into a chair on the porch and draw my knees up to my chest, resting my cheek.  I watch and listen.  These moments are fleeting... and beautiful.  A brand new day.

Depth of Impression

It was love at first sight.  Art.  France.  Giverny.  Gardens.  Lilies. Water.  We were made for each other.  From the first glimpse my little-girl eyes drank in, I have loved Monet.   Soft.  Natural.  Romantic.  His paintings breathe music into my heart.

Last year my son was proud to present to me his rendition of the Japanese footbridge over the water-lily pond of Giverny, keenly aware of my fondness.  Andrew loves art.  Period.  Much like he appreciates music, travel, food, architecture... and people... Andrew finds something to appreciate about each example he encounters.  As we planned a trip to Maine, we discovered that this lovely footbridge in Somesville, which reminded me of Monet's beloved garden, was on our daily path from the summerhouse to Bar Harbor. 

Red, White and Blue

   
  "Beneath Their Sheltering Wings"

I was elated that Jenny chose "Red, White and Blue" as the theme for this week's photo challenge.  It speaks of summer, of pride, of a much-loved way of life.  My candidate images range from an old-fashioned soda fountain in Bar Harbor lined with polished blue and chrome stools beneath a bright red Coca-Cola fountain to little boys perched on a red and white cooler with their heads cast back in unbridled laughter to a U.S. Coast Guard boat tied off with a dive suit tossed on the dock.  I sort through photographs of U.S. Flags flying freely from Maine to Florida, each with its own unique character: whipping in the wind atop rocky cliffs, capping towering sailboat masts or gently waving a warm welcome home to a rolling tree-filled farm.  We are a proud nation.  So many "Red, White and Blue" moments wait to be captured. 

But for today's entry... one special image stands alone... purely from a sentimental standpoint. 

Without Fear ~ Part II

 

See Part I here.

"What's your hurry?" he asks.  I scan the row of doorways searching for Sam's mom.  She watches, motionless, cradling the baby and wrapping her arm around Sam like a fragile chick beneath her wing.  I was on my own.  I look up at him, questioning.  He smiles... but not with his eyes.  I tell him my mom is sick, and I need to go home to call her for test results.  He relaxes his arm, lowering the bottle... but keeps my keys. 

Without Fear ~ Part I

The furniture was crowded awkwardly along an exterior wall.  Even the baby's crib was drawn away from the long, open interior wall.  Scarcely an hour had passed before I heard gunfire.  Conversation continued without notice.  But knowing mama-eyes caught mine... naive and sheltered.  I had never known true want.  She saw it.  This mama of a gangly school-girl and a chubby-cheeked baby boy saw my trembling heart.  I was scarcely more than a child, myself. 

"Just don't stand by that wall," she nodded toward the empty space.  They were accustomed to the sharp ricochet of bullets exploding in this long row of apartment homes.  The brick exterior walls were like barricades.  The thin interior sheetrock was mere paper.  Here, where even the police were daunted, I'd better learn fast.

History Penned by Hand... and Baked

Opening an old, handed-down, handwritten recipe collection is like stepping back in time.  So much is revealed through the handwriting, the order, the common ingredients and the evidence of use.  My fingers travel immediately to the pages worn, tattered and stained... these are marks of love... a legacy of memories made... family history unfolding.

Happy Birthday, America

From this small, proud town I call home

Thank you.

Accountability for the "Not-To-Be-Forgotten" List

 
Soft golden light bathes this retreat of a corner where I write.  I draw a plush blanket close and release long, slow breaths of contentment while I listen to the increasingly distant rumble of a magnificent summer storm.  The lightning and thunder punctuating the night displayed an intensity I've not witnessed in this house before. For split seconds, over and over again, these quiet, dim rooms were illuminated like a stage accompanied by crashing crescendos.  I breathe in...long and deep, until my lungs can hold no more.  The world slows. The night grows still.

Last month I wrote a post about this intentional kind of slowing down.  I smiled when one of my blogging buddies was friend enough to come back later and ask me how I was progressing in accomplishing my list of things "not to be forgotten"... the things that really matter most.  True friends care enough to hold us accountable.

Simplifying the View

Ok, so technically it's summer... but I'm spring cleaning.  In the process, I discovered a different view... or maybe rediscovered, really.  I found it inspiring in a quiet, unassuming way... a simpler way.  For when the layers are pulled down, all you see is the exposed, foundational, elemental nature of life... fresh, growing... dare I say, blossoming!  I stepped back, shifting the angle, switching the focus, adjusting the depth...toying with perspective.  I found a renewed appreciation for simplicity.

Manners: Love Reflected

There he was, my little man, standing tall in a starched shirt and silk tie, meeting new people.  I heard the guy-to-guy talk with a family friend. 

"Shoulders back.  In the eyes... look me in the eyes.  Now shake my hand like you mean it.  There you go."

I smiled. The art of a gentleman's agreement.  Has he heard it before?  Yes.  Do children need reminders as they grow and experience new situations?  Yes.  He looked at me, proud.  And he smiled, too.

While it is true that manners are "caught" as our children learn from example, they must also be taught.  There is an art about engaging others well.  Phone etiquette, letter composition, proper introductions, table settings, chivalry... these are skills which must be intentionally taught if we want our children to be well-received.  These aren't behaviors reserved for evenings of coat and tie, but a daily reflection of our appreciation for others.

I looked at this image and I thought, "Love Reflected".  The love my boys openly shared with one another not only reflected in the glass, but spilled out to my heart. 

Ready to Fly

  
"Consider the lilies how they grow: they toil not, they spin not; and yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."  Luke 12:27

Oh, how there are times my heart succumbs to worry.  Out of this knotted, constricted state comes needless toil, fruitless spinning.   This is especially true of my parenting.  My mama heart longs to shelter these lives entrusted to me beneath my wing, wrapped in this nest I've made, that no harm may come to them.  Yet, they flutter their wings; they raise their voices; they prepare to fly.  The world awaits.

"Is it my turn now?"  He had waited so patiently for me. 

Summer? I Missed Your Smile!

 

There is something about summer that makes me smile.  I love all of the seasons.  Particularly, I simply marvel in watching them transition.  But summer?  Well, it has a unique allure.  Perhaps, it is because summer beckons us outdoors, out of routines, out of habit, out of the familiar, out of false ceilings.  Summer is a season of discovery... adventure... new heights.   I smile at the memories of summers before... but I positively beam with anticipation for those yet to come!  Summer...  I run to you with open arms, swept up in your embrace... spinning round, feet off the ground!   So glad you're here...

Let me count the ways!   I love....

Daddy's Girl

Too many miles span, rivers divide, prairies stretch and roads cross between there and here tonight.  Thoughts jumble too much to write the poetry intended... but he's never been much for fancy or refined anything.  So I pour my coffee black, the way he would, in a blue speckled mug...  from Mark Twain Dinette.  I remind myself of one thing he's always taught me.  Distance doesn't matter.  Period.

The Learning Never Stops ~ Summer

 
"Mama, did you know this is good for you?!"

Joining my friend, Jenny, in her weekly L.E.N.S. Photo Challenge at Home Is Where the Heart Is.  This week's theme?  Summer.  Last weekend I drew the boys out on the deck for a balmy evening supper and snapped this picture of my little guy literally drinking up summer in the warm rays of late evening sun.  Few things taste like summer more than a melon just cracked open... sweet juices streaming down your fingers.  My little one delighted in the knowledge that this dessert was healthy!  We treasure our long summer days working in the garden and savoring the tastes of the season... literally and figuratively... so much to learn and discover!

First Vlog: Celebrating The Homeschool Village

To quote one of my favorite authors, "Judge tenderly of me..." as I post my first vlog to celebrate the growth of The Homeschool Village and introduce myself on a more personal level!

Today at The Homeschool Village we are sharing resources which have been the most useful in our homeschool endeavors.  My resource is not a title... but rather a family... the Clarkson family.  Many of you are already familiar with Clay and Sally Clarkson.  I hope you are also coming to know their children as they, too, are publishing books and releasing CDs which will inspire your family.

Spring and Summer Meet: A Watercolor Garden

 

As sunset grows near

I draw to the garden.

Fresh water flows sweetly cool,

Bubbling along boulders worn smooth.

Their companionship has softened edges harsh

And honed contrasts of character unique.

Guest Post: The St. Louis Book Signing by Andrew Malphurs

 
I am pleased to welcome the first guest writer at Prairie Lily Arts and doubly so to introduce him as my son, Andrew, a recently published young author.  I previously shared with you here that one of Andrew's goals for the year was to publish a piece of writing.  How delighted he was to have both a family history story and its companion illustration published within weeks!  While Andrew was keenly aware that publication can be a long and elusive quest, he was determined to capture the flag.  I love that about my little man... a heart that envisions... a spirit that attains.  Andrew, I love you. 

When Words Are No Longer Required

Sometimes the discussion swirling around you seems to have a recurring theme.  I've learned to take notice.   There is often a reason... or at least an opportunity to learn.  In the last week several of my friends have raised conversations about the merits of finding, valuing and holding onto forever love... the gift of marriage... the joy of family.  I suppose since I've lived life on both sides of the fence they are wondering about my perspective. 

Summer Recharge

 
It's been an exciting first week at the Homeschool Village!  It is our collective, heartfelt desire that this will be a place for you to connect, to learn, to share... to recharge!  So how do you, as a homeschool mom with a scrolling to-do list, recharge each summer?

I try to allow more time for things I enjoy doing and creating... but seldom find opportunities to accomplish during the school year.  Stacks of beautiful raw dupioni, silk brocade, and cotton velvet beckon for stolen moments of sewing to become something lush and inviting.  Paint swatches, spread in a colorful array, are torturing my power of selection! Page layouts for my first homeschool book await refinement.  Fresh summer recipes call for the garden's first picking!  (Come back and visit for recipes!)  And I confess... I love books and curriculum!  Tucking away the old and organizing the new feels a bit like Christmas!

The Science of Introduction

There are times in our lives that are more staid and settled... and times when everything is new and changing... including (perhaps especially) the people we know.  Whether in person or online, I am meeting new people daily.. sometimes hourly!  Each introduction is as unique as the person sharing it with me.  Sometimes I just take a quiet moment to reflect on these new voices in my life.  I wonder about their lives, how they crossed my path, and how much of our journeys we will come to share together.  There is a science of introduction.  Realizing this science changes the way I look at each new person I meet.

For You...

They know me.  They smooth over my shortcomings as if they never notice.  They cheer my every victory as if it is their own.  They bubble over with little-boy breathless giggles through my silly days.  They quietly offer patience through my focused days. They say I'm beautiful whether I'm skimmed in flowing black velvet, or just rose up slowly from warm, drawn covers.  They know my passion for chocolate fudge and potato chips.  They know my disdain for blue cheese and caviar... fish eggs, they'll tell you.  They know exactly what is about to be heard from my lips, before my voice makes a sound.  They know me.

They know my heart.

 

Clear Skies

I love the mountains.  So I was naturally a little disappointed yesterday as I approached Chattanooga to find the mountains blanketed in storm clouds. With rain sheeting down the windshield, splashed back and forth by the rapid swish of wipers, I saw something amazing.  Powerful, gushing waterfalls erupted... roaring from the sides of the mountains all around us.  They were beautiful.  Twin strikes of lightning flashed simultaneously on either side of the road, and suddenly this girl, who loves a summer storm, wasn't so disappointed in the view.  What had seemed limiting now became a gift.  I was awed.

 

Undaunted Dreams

In January I talked to my little man about goals for the new year... dreams... ambitions... what-would-you-do-if-you-knew-you-wouldn't-fail kind of goals.  One frosty morning, draped in a quilt and narrow in focus, I was clicking away at the keyboard when he approached me quietly... paper in hand. 

"Would you like to hear my goals?" 

The click-clacking stopped.  What was in this young heart?  The one where I can see just a glimpse of the man to be?  I turned my face on his.  The world would wait.  Dreams would begin.

"I want to get published."

 

What's Next...

My girlfriend, Stef, is building a village... The Homeschool Village... a place to meet and grow with other homeschool families... and Sue, Robyn, and I said we'd move right in!  (You'll want to drop by and visit these girls!) Each Thursday Stef will host the Homeschool Village Blog Fair.  It's easy to join in!  Post a few thoughts about the week's topic with links to three of your favorite homeschool blogs and link up!  Add Stef's button if you'd like!  We'll be looking for you! :)  This week's question...  What are your homeschooling activities for the month of June?

The Garden Is In!

 

Departing from the serious y'all, because... well... I've learned from a couple of silly little monkeys I wrestle with each day that you just can't always take life too seriously! 

 So here's a laid-back little corner of my world.

 

Captivating: The Adventure

 
Adventure.  It's at the core of me.  I've known it since I was a little girl.  At ten years old I would choose the horse that wasn't broken to ride.  He let me climb up bareback and gallop through the countryside until my jeans were drenched in his musky sweat, my face was gritty with field dust and we turned for the barn spent... and glowing.  As a woman, that passion has never diminished, but continued to evolve.  The idea of open space... untamed, raw, ready for discovery... stirs something in my spirit like nothing else.  This is a part of my affinity for  my treasured prairies... precious and rare.

But prairies aren't my only wild place.  A year ago, I got lost in Acadia National Park.  Lost.  Nothing but rocky cliffs and evergreen forest.  No compass.  Sun straight up in the sky.  Little means for navigation.  Phone without service. Not enough provision for nightfall.  Two little boys.  There-are-bears-in-these-woods kind of lost. Until the stone piles appeared. 

Memorial Day Prayer

 
Lord,

Loving Father, walking so abidingly with this spirited girl,

Lavishly pouring out Your grace over the meagerness of me,

Until my life is a flowing sea of You,

Boundless, complete and amazing.

Father, hear my quiet plea

In this gentle morning light.

Lord, I name them by name

Yet, You know every corner of each heart.

Homeschooling at the Hearth: The Heart of the Family

First, I must say, the interaction I've had with so many of you  mama hearts this week has blessed me beyond measure!

 
We've talked about why I homeschool, what curricula I'm using and how it is that I think we are able to reap so much from this journey... by connecting to my little men at the heart level.  As we wrap up the week, I just want to take the how, the heart piece of this, a little further and broaden our attention to not only tending to the heart of your child, but the heart of your family.  A loving, Christ-centered home will be successful on any journey He lays on your heart.  

     
  So many of you write to me with aching hearts.  You visit me here and idealize my family and my life... and I will be the first one to tell you that I am indeed drinking from my saucer because my cup overflows.  I am blessed beyond all anticipation and expectation!  However, no life, no person, no family is perfect. 

Homeschooling at the Hearth: Are You Speaking Their Language?

While my homeschooling friends are asking, "What are you doing next year?" my non-homeschooling friends are asking, "How do you do it?!"  (Here's where we get to the good stuff.)  I am learning that, secondary to who we spend our moments with, the how of our days may be the next most important aspect of life.  Not what I did, when I got it done, or where I've been... but how did I arrive at wherever I am.  The story. 

Likewise in homeschooling our success or failure is bound up in how we do what we do.  There has only ever been one answer to the question of how I homeschool... the only answer there ever will be.  I must hold the hearts of these children... my little men. 

Homeschooling at the Hearth: Answering the "What" Question

 
Ok, maybe it's the leftover reporter in me... wanting to poke and prod at the who, what, when, where, why and how of everything.  After writing a guest post about why I homeschool recently for Stef, a dear URL friend, several tender mama hearts have offered me the honor of sharing with them in their journey, of opening the book of my walk for them to see, of helping them find their way, or simply the privilege of listening.

This time of year so many families begin to reevaluate the education and discipleship of their children.  Homeschoolers reflect on the past year in determining goals for the next.  Each child's needs are unique, and the only constant is change.  Some families are taking a closer look at the possibility of homeschooling for the first time.  Their hearts are convicted that this is their calling... because it is indeed a calling upon the whole family... yet that conviction comes with a mingled sense of uncertainty and excitement.

To My Airman, With Love

 
Last Saturday felt like the best hug from my beloved Airman.  As I walked beneath the wings and bellies of Air Force planes and shared time with our troops at Robins AFB, I missed my dad.  These machines and our cherished armed forces apparently course through the blood.  I felt like I was coming home.

My Heart Is In Your Hands

~My Heart Is In Your Hands~

It had been awhile since I looked at this image,

but it seems like yesterday that it was in my lens. 

His Will... His Way

Back home on our family farms the stars shine brighter, the air is clearer and the way just seems more sure.  I suppose that's a part of the known, the familiar.  I don't have to keep monitoring my steps.   It's open space, and I know the paths.  I know where the fence rows are.  I know where I can easily swing over the barbed wire... and where I'll get caught.  I know where the sun will rise and how it will fade behind the trees again come dusk.  I know that there will be three hot meals, when they'll be served and where I'll sit.  And if I've wondered too far, I know the sound of the cast iron dinner bell. There's an ease about that.

 

Sometimes we find ourselves in new experiences, in new places, with new people and the path is uncut.  An adventure for sure!  This prairie girl loves the untamed, the untrod, the unexplored!  But when there are no boundaries and no road markers, no worn trail smooth and sure, you have to know how to find your way.