Closer to the Middle of Nowhere

I love autumn.  It’s the one season that (convenience aside) makes me wish that I lived a little closer to the middle of nowhere.  Right now, we live on a .10 acre lot in a neighborhood, in a (small-ish) city.  There is never a time when there is no street noise, and even though our neighborhood is a fairly quiet one there is still more noise than there is closer to the middle of nowhere. 

 The longer I live “in town”, the more I notice that I miss the sights, the solitude and the smells of the middle of nowhere.  and I miss them regardless of the season (especially since each season is so very unique in the northern reaches of the great state of Ohio).  What specifically do I miss? 

  • “Night noises” (crickets, coyotes, frogs and the like) uninterrupted by the non-stop passing of cars on the nearby state road.
  • Creaky trees heavy laden with ice after a heavy-duty winter storm.
  • The wistles of trains, both on the track near our house and the one two miles away.
  • The decaying smell of leaves combined with mud, the dust of a bountiful soybean/corn harvest with a pinch of freshly-mowed grass (likely one of the last of the season).
  • The lonely hooting of a barn owl in the wee hours of the morning.
  • The crispness of a sub-zero winter morning with the smell of smoke the neighbors’ wood burning furnace wafting through the air.
  • The smell of mud and new grass in the spring.
  • Patchwork rainbows of clothes hanging out to dry.
  • The patchwork of foliage on the various species of trees, and the hundreds of shades of amber and brown fields, punctuated by the verdant green of the newly sprouted winter wheat.
  • The stark black-and-white-and-blue of sky, snow and trees during the winter.
  • The chamelion-like change from stark to yellow to a thousand shades of green that happens every spring.
  • The vees of geese making their way south.
  • The phenominal sunrises and sunsets that sometimes seem to last for hours.
  • The quiet and solitude.
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~ by pe2nia1 on October 10, 2011.

 
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