Give A Hoot

I love the fact I live in the country. 

I love that our little house on the prairie is nestled in the rolling hills of eastern Colorado. 

Sure, we spend a fortune on fuel every year living in the country and working in the city. However, that twenty miles of country road is my daily dose of relaxation and beauty. There is something about that last twenty miles that works the tension of a long day right out of my shoulders as I listen to Shrek for the hundredth time that week and gaze out the window.

Every season brings a wonderful array of breathtaking sights while driving down the gravel roads. 

In the fall, the beige fields of grass come to life, dancing with a golden hue as the sun starts to set in the west as we venture down our Brown Eyed Girl's bumpy road. An impossible picture to capture on film. I have tried. No photo has ever done it justice. Only my soul knows its true beauty.

The early morning frost delicately coats every inch of the dormant prairie, crystallizing each blade of grass as it glistens in the morning light. Again, an impossibly image to capture on film.

Winter blankets the prairie with snow. The views of the mountains are breathtaking as we make our way in each morning.

Spring breaths new life onto the prairie.

The pastures start greening up.

The cows start calving. Horses start foaling. The babies test out their tiny new legs for the first time, romping through the pastures, frisky in the early morning light.

I love looking out my window at the rows of t-posts and fence lines. Some old and rickety, made from weathered posts and branches. Expensive white fences made from vinyl.

I day dream of indoor arenas and someday owning a beautiful equine facility like the ones we pass each day. Lined in white vinyl fencing. Immaculately kept. Horses grazing in their pastures or sunning in their stall runs. Outdoor arenas decorated with jumps and four-horse trailers parked in a row. 

I love the country. 

I love the connection to nature.

I love that even in 2012, my daughter can look out her window every day and see the living heritage of the west. She points out the antelope and the deer grazing along the roads. She counts the new baby cows in the spring. She has learned her colors by identifying the changing shades of the wild flowers throughout the summer.

With her own eyes she has seen nature, the same nature that other children only see in photographs.

How could anyone ever want to taint this country beauty?

Yet again this morning...

I am disgusted at man.

I am disgusted that someone can once again take the time and effort to drive out to my paradise, and unload their garbage on the side of this country road. 

Too lazy to spend the money to take it to the dump.

What would they say if I piled my trash in their front yard?