Put A Little Gravel in Your Travel

On late afternoons/early evenings in the summer, Tricia glances out of the kitchen window and sees the sun casting long shadows.  That is a 'bat signal' for us to take a "Sunday Stroll" even though it is not Sunday.  We jump in the car and drive westward for about a mile.  One left turn puts us on gravel roads for as far as the eye can see.  You can see what I'm talking about in the photo below if you look in the passenger side mirror.

The gravel makes a crunching sound under the car tires and the dust kicks up billows that trail behind the car as we drive out in the countryside.  We pass no traffic.  It is quiet.  There are rice fields on either side of the road.

We take in the sights and sounds.  We pass a (relatively) ancient farm implement on a turnrow.  I explain to Tricia and Benjamin what it is.  This contraption was a levee packer.  Once levees in rice fields were pulled up, you'd pull this on top of the levee to pack it down.  It is made of solid concrete, shaped like an hour glass.  This thing hasn't been used for quite some time.  It will likely hold down this spot until Jesus returns, biding its time, watching, if it could, changes taking place in the surrounding landscape.

A snake slithers stealthily across the road.  I speed up and run over it, but it is not affected and continues on its belly until it reaches the ditch.  Water is gushing out of a drop pipe as water is being turned loose from surrounding crawfish ponds.  Crawfish season is coming to an end.  Egrets and shore birds scavenge the pond bottoms for aquatic snacks that have been exposed as the water level drops.

We continue westward for a few miles as we sing along to old country music and come upon a field of recently baled hay, reminding us that we'll soon be putting hay up in our hay loft - a truly hot job!

The hay will soon be picked up and arranged in rows along the fence row to allow for fresh growth and another cutting or two of hay before dormancy.

Soon we turn left on the Roanoke Highway.  It is a blacktop road, smooth and quiet.  It leads us to the pot of gold at the end of our rainbow.  We always end up at a gas station that sells BOUDIN BALLS.  It is a concoction of boudin stuffing, rolled in batter and deep fried.  There should be a 12 step program to help you get off these things.

We spread out napkins on our laps and feast as we slowly start our 5 mile trip back home, retracing our steps on the gravel road.  The boudin balls hit the spot!

We head back to the homestead just as the sun finds its way back home beneath the western horizon.

Nothing like a peaceful, pastoral, afternoon drive - away from civilization, almost stepping back in time in the countryside.  A simple afternoon with simple pleasures for a simple man.