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I drove back to the park the other night after a trip to town for some supper.   Dusk was falling as I traveled two lane roads, the moon beginning to rise, passing through tiny towns and past miles of fields and farms. As I gazed out the window at the passing scenery, I thought about the fact that it’s funny how my  landmarks have changed in the past two months.

I don’t live in town any more. I live in the country. I mark direction by water towers and silos and the house where I go for freshly laid eggs. My way is made by driving county roads rather than city streets. I don’t mark my progress with traffic lights and businesses on street corners. While I still watch out for other cars, more often I am on the lookout for deer who might decide to cross the road. As I pass by the wetlands on my way home, I look to see how big the fish are that are jumping. The newspaper is a weekly one and not a twice-a-day edition, filled with pictures of prom royalty and honor students and agriculture awards. There are few sounds of traffic other than when the campground is busy. The one constant I’m sure of is that the tiny frogs that inhabit the ponds and fields are bound to start their raucous (and obscenely loud) chorus of singing as dusk turns into night.

There is a peace… a serenity… a simpleness in life that suits me perfectly!

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