MINNESOTA ATLAS SANDWICHED between us on the van floor, my husband and I head southeast of Faribault for our first Sunday afternoon drive of the season. The directional guide is primarily for my benefit as I occasionally have this urge to know “where we are.” We own neither smart phone nor GPS.
We have no specific destination, only aiming to follow back country roads to see what we can see.
As simple as that.
We are those kind of folks, former farm kids who grew up understanding the value in a Sunday afternoon drive.
Check out the crops.
Breathe in the indescribably intoxicating smell of freshly-mown alfalfa.
Wind along gravel roads past time-worn barns and vintage farm machinery, curve this way and that, windows rolled down, tires crunching, taking it all in.
Glorious countryside, oh, glorious countryside.
And then, an abrupt stop to smell the roses. Literally. Beautiful wild roses that filled the ditches of my youth spotted once again. I inhale their heady perfumed fragrance as I wade into tall ditch grass.
For an hour or so on this Sunday afternoon, the worries in my life cease. I am with the man I love, checking out the crops, smelling the roses, taking in every detail of the rural world that embraces us.
Life is good. In this moment. On this Sunday afternoon drive.
(Please check back for more photos from this Sunday afternoon drive just southeast of Faribault.)
© Copyright 2014 Audrey Kletscher Helbling