Sunday, September 20, 2015

Three-Mile Island of Peace

The road we live on is two miles long and runs south to north.
Our driveway is three-quarters of a mile north of the correction line, which lies east and west. 

There is a lot of bush and quite a few trees lining the mile of road along the Godhe land on the east side, and on the west there is bush set back behind a wide, open field. It’s a pleasant place to find myself at any time of day and I'm grateful for a quiet gravel road to walk on.

I've eaten a couple slices of toast and strapped a fanny pack to my waist, put a cap on my head to block the sun’s glare, pulled a down-filled vest over my shirt, and hooked the camera to a belt loop on my jeans. 

Looking north, from just south of our driveway
Old Jenna Doodle must've gone over to Godhes' yesterday and she hasn’t returned by morning, so it's just me and Ducky Doodle hitting the dusty trail.

After about a quarter-mile the road opens onto fields on each side, although one can always see trees lining the horizon. There are fewer trees near, and so on the windiest days I go south, but today the breeze is gentle albeit cool, and the sunlight on the golden stubblefields in the distance draws me north.

Wildflowers and weeds are still blooming in the ditch’s thick, tall green grass. A small flock of Canada geese is resting near a slough in the harvested field. 

I use the zoom function on the camera. If I stepped off the road, they'd all lift into the air.
Asters, breaking out in little bursts of colour all over.

Just over a half-mile up the road I turn, coming back past our yard and down the road to the south. 

Looking south from our place.
A red-tailed hawk startles from the long grass next to some bush by the road; it flies up, complaining at being disturbed, and carves a wide arc in the air, unwilling to get too far away from whatever it's been eating on the ground. I'm not quick enough to get a closeup with the camera. I'm too busy watching the hawk.

On one side of the ravine a family of mousey-coloured ducks floats on the water, and across the road there is what looks like the beginnings of a beaver lodge on the far shore. They have got the culverts blocked and the RM will have to come and clear them out.

Just past this point we come to the correction line. A three-minute walk to the east would take us to Godhes', where Scott grew up, where he goes every day to attend to farm business, and where his mother lives alongside his brother and brother's family. 

The correction line is often as busy as the highway several more miles to the south, so this is where I turn back.

A swathed canola field waits to be combined.

I see the hoof print of a young moose, and a tiny deer track, and coyote scat with rose hips in it. 
A merlin flies low over the cut oat stalks and passes overhead; I haven’t seen as many merlins this year as in others.

Home again:
The grass road leading into our back yard.

How many times have you come along with me on this walk?

Today, with the weather perfect and the entire day ahead, we went three miles.