home IS where the heart is

today, my mind has been running a slide show of memories, all connected to this place, all part of what, or where makes me, me. 

the pasture where every year, around easter, we would go walking down cow paths and picking crocuses as a family. 

laying in swaths of wheat under a summer night sky, counting shooting stars with my dad, brother, and uncle. 

driving around, as a family, in spring checking how the crops were coming up and shooting gophers - the sun will forever be setting in this memory; that lovely golden, bathed in honey kind of light that i've only experienced on the prairies.

the dark ominous blue sky of a summer thunderstorm, the sweet, fresh smell of rain about to fall, the unearthly still before all hell breaks loose, the stark contrast of the green trees against that same sky, and huddling close to mom for comfort. 

the seemingly never-ending road through rolling hills of grain to the lake; the sudden glimpse of misty blueness and the more obvious hills of the river breaks that serve only to taunt you with their seeming nearness and then crush your hope with the rest of that interminable drive.  THEN, the suddenness of land giving way to blue water and soft sand. 

the downy softness of a duckling, caught so that my dad could show me. 
the sight and sound of water rushing through washouts and culverts when spring finally thaws the heart of winter.
the sun, hotter than expected after driving in the air conditioned coolness of the tractor, beating down as dad and i grab a handful of wheat from the hopper and he teaches me how to make wheat gum.
the tiny clearing in our trees that i always called "the place where time stands still" where i would sit in quiet, verdant solitude and listen to the birds.
the hoar frost that allows winter as lovely a garment as spring and has always caused me to believe that if i did SOMEthing right, i might make it into fairyland yet. 
so many scenes, and my words can never paint the picture as clearly or as beautifully as i still see it.  each scene, each memory, is connected by place, just as they are also connected by people.  for me, home will always be an intricately connected web of people and places.