थिस लैंड

I am writing from the library in Woodbury, Tennessee. It's easy to miss because the library almost blends in with the tidy clapboard homes on this residential street. Rocking chairs wait patiently on porches. The stoplights dangling from wires at the intersections sway when it's too windy. When I asked a woman if there was any place good to eat in town, she directed me to a Chinese restaurant. I think she must have thought I was homesick.

I've experienced a lot this last week or so. I've tried thinking about how I would break down my postings and I've decided that I'm just going to do it bit by bit. I won't have my computer for another week or so and I'm only allowed an hour a day on the computer here in Woodbury.

Today, I'm going to write about the land I've found myself in. I wish that I could post photos, but that, too, will have to wait until I get my computer back. For now, imagine if you can:

Two-lane highways that wind past green pastures, wooded hillsides and creeks that run parallel to the road or through farmlands where a herd of cows roam free or a few horses munch grass. A tribe of goats scamper across fields, a red robin darts across the road. Lone, ancient barns sit like great buddhas watching over the land.

The two-lane highways become one-lane roads. The roads snake through the woods and past remote homes where people live in quiet and solitude. Two dogs play in the street and chase after my car as it drives around a bend. Butterflies--some flecked with yellow and orange, others with blue--flutter through the air. One got caught in my windshield wiper as I was driving and I had to stop to help free it.

One-lane roads become gravel and dirt paths. The paths meander through densely packed woods. All you can see for miles and miles are trees--small trees, big trees, skinny trees, little trees. What you don't see are ancient trees. Ragmar tells me that the trees are logged every forty years or so. I feel grateful to have experienced the woods. To walk through the woods as the wind rustles through the canopy of leaves, as dappled sunlight dances off branches, as the blue of sky pokes through the treetops. Last week, I had to walk home through the woods in the pitch, pitch blackness of night. Thankfully, I had an intrepid guide--a blue-haired boy from San Francisco who led me down the road. We couldn't see within a foot around us. It was both terrifying and soothing, but we made it home, completely exhilarated!