behindtheax

a drive in the country

Yesterday Greg found me sliding into melancholy and suggested a drive in the country. We decided to drive up to Creemore. the kids were not thrilled with the idea but didn’t put up too much of a fuss. We took a few back roads and watched the fields. The trees are beginning to change but not to their full-blown capacity yet. But the fields were absolutely breathtaking. Some were just tracts of brown dirt with sparse yellow with farmers still busy in them. Others were the colour of rich chocolate or Labrador brown and next to these were fields of brilliant yellow that you would swear must cast a light at night. Also, there were fields that looked just like the carpet that my parents once had in their bedroom in the 70s. It was one of those three tone carpets – a mixture of gold, cream and beige. We drove by fields full of black cows, wooly lambs, beautiful horses. Fields of corn with black birds rising up in a cloud reminding me of a Vincent Van Gogh painting. And then I let my vision drop and started watching the ditches full of wildflowers; purple, blue, brown, white, yellow - the speed of the car blurring them into a stain glass window. There were also expanses of thick bulrushes that had exploded their tops into this creamy down and long hardy grass with soft heads turning yellow.
“Want to stop there?” Greg said
“Where?”
“The market we just passed?”
“What market?”
“Where are you? What are you looking at?”
“I’m in the ditches.”

We did stop at a little country store that smelled of Vanilla candles where we bought soft maple fudge and in Creemore we stopped in at their brewery and bought some of their beer. Stood for a while and looked at the shiny steel fermenting containers. They showed us what hops looked like. We then walked up and down Creemore’s quaint little front street and stopped at a bakery and bought an apple pie. Then we drove home. The day was a bit overcast and cool but the drive lifted my spirits and the apple pie was delicious.

Last evening I started the book Elle by Douglas Glover and am in total awe of his use of language. And it’s as funny as hell.

posted by mary j. @ 10:40 AM