The long and winding road

In the two years I've lived in Mount Vernon, I've noticed that you can learn a lot in the 50ish-minute commute to/from my job in Westerville.

For instance, I've learned a LOT about nature. Those of you who know my hubbie, David, know that he is an avid outdoorsman. I am more of a person who admires the outdoors, grew up in the country, but usually spends more of her time indoors for whatever reason. My commute on the winding, hilly back roads that snake through cornfields, alongside creeks and through farms aplenty has given me a crash course in wildlife and agriculture.

Last year, I developed a keen sense of the hours and days when deer will be running the most, and I—in painful and expensive ways I wouldn't recommend to anyone—learned how to best avoid those peak times. This year, in addition to the skill of scanning dark ditches and forest edges for eyeballs and white, bouncing bobs of tails, I've added other animals to my knowledge roster. I think I can accurately ID the mating seasons of rabbits, bats, skunks (yes, skunks!), possums and raccoons, just by tallying the quantity of dearly departed furry friends each morning.

In the summer, I now know that the best way to predict a soaking rain is to count the number of frogs that zip across the road just as the skies begin to sprinkle.

And it isn't just nature I learn about as I drive. I learn about me too!

With nearly an hour to squander each way, I get a lot of thinking done. I plan, I list, I compose, I dream, I worry and when I tire of thinking, I sing.

In the mornings, despite the fact that I know I am supposed to be talking, singing and otherwise engaging Noah to grow his vocabulary and stimulate his development, I usually find myself staring blankly at the road ahead, trying to convince myself that I am not all that sleepy. I honestly don't think Noah minds; he has the same, I'm-so-tired-I-look-stoned face. Plus, he normally catches a little cat nap before we hit Centerburg. Lucky guy.

In the evenings, though, I am a productive woman—digesting the day's events and planning for tomorrow's like nobody's business. I always dissect with Noah how his day went, which usually leads to a rundown of his favorite tot tunes. When he tuckers out, I make phone calls. It's the only time of day I'm a regular talker, and it's usually my family I bug during most folk's dinner hour.

Several times a week, David and I fill up the whole hour—one of us is normally already home, or both of us are driving in our respective SUVs heading to our comfy house. I think it's comforting that after three years of marriage, we can still talk like we do!

Soon, I'll be able to do one of my favorite things on a long drive in the country—roll down the windows and take deep, chest-heaving breaths of fresh, dewy air. Ahh. I can already smell the fresh-cut grass and blooming Lilac trees. It really is one of the very best things about living in the country. Talk about a stress reliever!

And hey, if you ever want the chance to experience it yourself, our door is always open to friends and family.