Wednesday, September 30, 2009
My husband was packing his bags for our trip, had eaten supper, and I noticed the sky. I was done with most of my preparations, so I took off to capture the sunset. I knew just where I wanted to be at its peak. Didn't make it to the lake by the time the sky died down to grey, but I DID make it to the windmill.
A windmill, black against the coral sky, brings back so many memories of living in the country. We had a windmill on our farm, and the surrounding farms usually had one as well. We couldn't afford many toys. We were sent outside to use our imaginations and play old-fashioned games. I remember playing outside until it was too dark to see anything but the moon and the fireflies. I remember playing tag until you couldn't see anything but shadows of movement. I recall running so fast to beat being caught that my heart nearly beat out of my chest. I remember the rising up of giggles that could not be turned off.
The sunsets with silhouettes of barns, windmills, cattle, field implements, and all things 'country' breathe a peace into me. Tis a gift to be simple, as the song goes. I think that spending time with the bookends of the day is a good way to harvest serenity from the ONE who is the author of peace.