The Minnesota Farm Woman

We got up earlier than usual for a day off, as there were things to do. It was foggy and cool, but not cold. There was not even the slightest breeze in the air, and the lake, when we reached it,  was like glass. The sun, barely up an hour, looked like a big pink orb hanging low in the sky, and I was glad I was not driving, because the surreal color fascinated me so much that I couldn’t stop looking.  They say our beautiful sunrises and sunsets here in northern Minnesota are partially due to the fires and smoke from the northwest. Our pleasure comes from their pain, unfortunately. The past few weeks of hearing what is going on in the rest of our country, not to mention the world, has sometimes made me want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over my head. The fires, the floods, the hurricane force winds, and the threat of war. Always, it seems, there’s war. Today, in my sheltered Minnesota world cocooned by the fog and surrounded by the beauty of the fall leaves,  I am thankful. My home and family and friends are safe. My beloved north woods are intact. Our lake is not overlapping its banks.  I know this truth: As long as there is sorrow in the world there will be grandmothers who pray. Today, in these woods, I am in my church. In the meantime, we drive along the roads of my childhood, and the fact that they haven’t changed much brings comfort to my soul. To make it last just a little bit longer, we turn right at the end of the narrow dirt road and take the long way home.