Yesterday morning, I decided to rescue my wife's VW Beetle from its prolonged dormancy and take a country drive. Southwest of Columbia, I descended through the hills that border the Missouri River Valley and dropped onto the broad floodplain. After crossing Perche Creek, swollen and muddy from recent heavy rains, I entered the flat landscape of the valley floor.
Henbit, a ground hugging plant of the mint family, produced a brilliant, purple haze across the fields. Native to Africa and Eurasia, henbit is common throughout the eastern U.S., where its bloom, in March and April, is a welcome sign of early spring. Shallow pools dotted most of the fields, attracting small flocks of blue-winged teal, noisy killdeer and a few groups of shorebirds, too distant to identify. Horned larks foraged along the roadway, grackles and red-wings scoured the crop stubble and a lone red-tailed hawk circled overhead. Curving northward, the road climbed into the uplands, where sheep and cattle grazed the greening hillsides, mockingbirds flashed among the trees and turkey vultures soared in the clear, blue sky.
I suppose I could have stayed home to watch political pundits argue the fate of our economy or, perhaps, attend a church service to get a fiery dose of fear. But I prefer an escape to nature, the source of my peace and inspiration.
