The day dawned perfectly autumn.
Crystal clear skies; blue and cloudless. Temps in the low 40’s. Breeze zero to
3 miles an hour. Leaves doing their annual kaleidoscopic trick. Burnt oranges.
Rusty reds so burnished they morphed into unknown colors. Right before my eyes.
Yellows, too, of course, and of many hues. Some were extraordinarily bright
yellow, almost luminescent. Other yellows were soft and buttery. Some were
crinkly brown with veined hints of other hues.
Although most leaves remained in
place on stems and axils, some were on the ground or in the daring act of
getting there.
Played hooky from church, natch.
The lure of the landscape pulled us into early showers, casual clothing and the
car. The dog, too. She deserved a peek at nature’s wonder on this special day.
So we headed west toward the
northwest corner of Illinois – the Galena territory where flat land Illinois does surprising things, leaping
from plain to hill to rugged mini Alpine views. The Mississippi River basin
The drive was perfection. We got
what we came for. Color. Calm. Peaceful life-scenes. And a nagging of something
more. We witnessed nature at her calmest. The air was soft, cuddling; dry and
nurturing; markedly not threatening. Alluring of simple things and life taken
in the slow lane.
Homes were aglow in sunshine.
Simplicity of rural life. Farms in harvest mode ~ soy bean and corn reapers
were well along their seasonal tasks. Rows and rows of rolled hay bales dotted
the landscape for miles. Some were arrayed in lines and covered in plastic skin
to serve as snow fences, too. The hint of a coming season, another show of
nature that is not so calm. Not so sanguine.
The nagging began again, some hint
of another meaning we were seeking, right there somewhere in our view; what was
it?
As the hours of soft delight
unrolled before us I became aware of the theme of ‘simple life’ beating a
tattoo in my mind. Simple days and simple pleasures. Love and family. Changing
seasons. Work and rest. Sleep and health. Food and company of others. Happiness
and joy somehow oozing forth.
Stopping for breakfast in a small
farm community the locals were out and about, jabbering and laughing, meeting
and greeting all while tinkling their glasses and clinking their forks and
knives on plates. The hubbub of a restaurant, especially a local eatery where
casual rules the day. And real people being themselves. Simplicity.
We who live in suburban or urban
neighborhoods spot the calm of rural living easily. We wonder how it would be
for us were we to live here? How would we fit in? Would the pace of life be as
simple as we imagine it to be? How green is the grass on their side of the
fence? And do they wonder the same about our fence side as well?
Arriving in Galena there was no where to park. The city
dwellers had descended on this special little place and consumed every parking
space possible. 5 motorcycles were in places that would normally serve one
automobile. Residential curbs were parked solid for at least a mile in every
direction. So we did not get out of our car. We drove instead through familiar
neighborhoods and streetscapes, having been frequent visitors in past years.
The architecture and hilliness invoked our respect for past and places
different. The club-iness of old town America suggested camaraderie and
town hall governance. Identity of place and people burbled to our awareness.
This was a nice place. Simple place. Good place to live.
Or is it? What makes ‘here’
different from ‘there’? Or any other place for that matter?
Life has its demands. We scurry to
meet them wherever we live. Large town or small we must do the same tasks
wherever we are to meet the requirements laid before us. These may be simple at
times but taken together are not. They are the roles we play to survive and
live lives of purpose and substance, however we define it!
Although we spent little time in Galena this trip the
journey was clearly the point of the day’s activity. It made us think. It gave
us pause and calm. It rewarded us for being. We witnessed yet another autumn
adorned in its glory.
As we made the return trip home,
the winding down of the day inevitably brought new thoughts to mind. How much a
struggle to live in these parts is there compared with our lives of hustle and
bustle? And although we are busy and surrounded by more busy-ness, don’t we
live lives of convenience compared with rural ones? Which is the more simple
life? And based on what or who’s standard?
The cell phone rang. One of our
parishioners was struck by a massive stroke that morning. He was in hospital
and alive with a very poor prognosis. A man of large presence in the community;
a leader and model citizen. When he leaves us he will leave a hole. He will be
missed. How long will he remain with us? How will the church carry on without
him? How will his family live out his promise, his scale of life?
The reality of life’s rhythm
whether rural or urban is the same. Time and role marches forward; each must be
tended, minded. It is not a matter of simple or convenient. It is must. Whether
we care to admit it or not.
Escape from home or the known we
are brought back to face reality. Time proceeds. Autumn, too. And surely the
winter beckons.
October 1, 2012
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