Our family property in the Ozarks of Missouri is a place of wide open spaces in the fields we used for tractor drivin' practice as kids and still use for weenie roasts. It is a place of woods where you can hear the sound of the leaves crunching beneath your shoes and where my daddy spent hours just wandering and teaching us kids about the legacy of the land. it is a place of heavy sparkling dew in the morning and if you're up late enough, you can catch the dew starting to form at night. It is a place of walking along the creek (with or without water, doesn't matter) in my creek shoes, by myself or with my children or with a trusted friend. It is a place of napping on the glider in the middle of the day. It is a place of barns and rocks and wildflowers.
If you could visit this place, you would know that it is a place you can slow down. Life's harried pace isn't a concern here. There is no cell phone signal in the holler. True, there are still meals to cook, there are still children to watch over, there are still chores to do. But there are also naps to take, books to read, birds to watch. I find when I am there, I am more attuned to and aware of beauty...to the tiny spiders spinning their webs, even if I run into them while telling those behind me to watch out for the spider...ewww...webs. To the lizards snaking through the grass that we caught for my grand-niece to put in a jar and be fascinated by for a time. To the scent of the freshly cut limbs from the abundant woods we were hauling and stacking to light a fire to roast our wieners and toast our marshmallows for smores. To the stars in the sky. To the sparks from the fire as they seemingly climb to those stars. It is my sanctuary. It is my place of rest.