Reminders of Beauty

Reminders of Beauty

When I was about twelve-years-old our family lived on an old farm on

Button Bay State Park Road

in Vermont.  The Green Mountain State as it is called is an idyllic place to engage the senses with the beauty of rolling hills, the earthy smell of pungent manure, colorful fall leaves of reds, yellows, and oranges from the maple trees.  In addition there were old farmhouses dressed in wooden clapboards and contrasting shutters that had been standing like sentries of colonial America. 

I think it is there that I learned to love riding bikes.  My bike was a red three speed, a "blue light special" as some obnoxious and irritating kids had informed me while I was going to the laundromat with a big black trash bag full of laundry balancing on my handlebars a few years before.  I didn't care though; it gave me freedom to roam as far as I could pedal.  Right before I took a left out of our driveway I would say hi to #326, a Holstein cow.  The ol' gal and I had an understanding, she would listen and I would talk her ear off.  I loved to ride along and see the meadows and trees lining my way.  I would frequently ride after school and enjoy the fresh air blowing through my hair as I sped along as fast as my little legs would take me.  I could bike for miles and miles and would often go and go just to see what was around the next bend or just to see how many miles I could conquer.  One of my favorite places to stop and linger was on the left side of our road probably about two miles away from our house or just down the road a piece as they say in Vermont.  After passing quaint farm houses, a run down green house and a corral of horses, my turn would come.  It was a long winding dirt road with parallel well worn dirt tire tracks with a grassy center that led right to the edge of the water.  It was always my secret place to sing, talk to God, to read and admire the beauty that He had created.  I saw sparrows and blue jays flit here and there chirping and cawing as they went.  Long grasses would sway in the gentle breeze.  Sometimes the muted blues of the water would meld into the dramatic blues and grays of the cloudy sky, it made me think of a painting, the artist, the Creator of the earth.  I would sit and delight in the peace for as long as possible.  I watched the pinks and oranges of the sunset over the water with the backdrop of the rolling hills and then would ride like the wind to get back home before the chill and darkness of night would set in.  Ahhhhh, it is there I was reminded of beauty again…