The Saturday Journal: Roads We Travel (part one)

The story Roads We Travel is a two-part series. As always, I am humbled and grateful for each of you who read The Saturday Journal and encourage my storytelling along the way.

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I was walking on my neighborhood road--a cold spring morning and as I rounded the curve at the crest of the hill I saw something move on the black asphalt--it was smack-dab in the center of the road.

An early butterfly.

Sweet thing--what are you doing in the middle of the road--on this chilly morning...

I've shared this before I know--I love to travel the back roads--the country roads and as often as I can, I avoid the interstates. I know these super interstates will get a person to their destination faster--but traveling the four and five lanes--cars and trucks weaving in and out at times--I'm not a big fan. And it's the scenery of the country roads, I miss.

And I am not fond of driving on the overpasses that seem to stand 10,000 feet high--suspended in mid-air. Did you know they actually have a name for these overpasses, they are called fly-overs!

To give you an example of how much I hate these "fly-overs"--not too long ago I was driving west from Stanley County to Mooresville and when I got closer to Interstate 77 --there it was--like a swinging bridge held together by steel columns--and I was going to have to travel over this "fly-over" to get to my destination.

Now I was familiar with this section of the interstate--on 77--I drive it quite often visiting my son and his family. Anyway--when I saw this section of highway ahead--I said out loud. Not today, Satan. I'm not driving over that. So rather than going straight--I exited to the right and went a few miles up the road--took the next exit--made somewhat of a U-turn and yes! 77 South. Problem solved. Yes, the fear of heights is real and will make you do crazy things.

And since we are talking about 77 South--let me tell you something I saw on a Sunday afternoon traveling, once again to see my son and his family. There they were in their Sunday best--dresses and caps--I bet there were forty--maybe more--Amish women and young girls--just standing on this bridge--some were looking out at the traffic below and others were gathered--talking--possibly on a Sunday afternoon stroll. I was like--pull over--take a photo--where is my camera when I need it?! I have no photo--you'll have to take my word for it--it was a beautiful sight.

I do travel often for my job as a real estate broker and for my storytelling--visiting people in their homes and on their farms. And as I said earlier--the country roads are my favorite--until the GPS doesn't work. I have had this happened twice--that I can remember--driving to a tract of land or farm or home in the country and my GPS will scream at me--you have reached your destination. You will have to get out and walk the rest of the way. No kidding--this actually has happened.

It was misting rain on this particular day and I was traveling through Rowan County to show a home. In my mind, I knew where the area was located and thought for sure the GPS would take me 77 South. And honestly I wasn't looking forward to being on the road for an hour and 30 minutes on this day--in the rain.

My GPS --it took me straight into the country--and within minutes of crossing the bridge over the interstate the sun broke through the clouds...I want to share with you the beauty I saw on this day--traveling the backroads...

A church sign that read quilting class this week

Blankets of rich green fields--some covered in tiny purple flowers

Cows standing on the hillside

Silos standing tall--much older than me

A church parking lot full of cars--much later than the normal lunch time exit at noon

A farmer closing the gate after feeding his horses

A tattered American flag hanging high on top of a silo--rusted farm equipment silent below

An old school house hanging on--trying not to fall to the ground

Muddy trails and roads leading to barns and old farm houses that have stood the test of time and I wonder just what treasures are inside--what memories the walls hold

A Lutheran Church--it stands quiet--still and the paint peels.

There's a handicap ramp at the front door of this small house--and there are garden beds within reach of the ramp.

And I can't for the life of me get over the lush green in these fields--the pinks and purples on the tulip trees and yellow and white daffodils--there are too many to number.

A few Charolais cows standing in the middle of a pasture with black angus. A farmer told me this story--years ago--he and his wife bought some Charolais and they were so proud of their new cattle. He said to me--my wife and I can see the pasture through the kitchen window and we were laughing one day--look honey, I said to her--they look like snow on the hill.

There's a farm stand at the end of this one farm drive. Fresh eggs for sale reads the sign and the painting of a bright yellow and red chicken covers the outer wall.

And there's more cows--laying in the fields--I've always heard if you see cows laying down--that's a sure sign of rain coming and I guess the ole saying is true--raindrops are again falling on my windshield.

Abandoned chimneys stand alone

I see a Thank you Jesus sign on a cinderblock building

And to my left is the most beautiful old white barn with a round metal roof--black with streaks of rust and a rooster weathervane resting high on top.

The miles roll on--forty miles or more and I have yet to see a gas station or Dollar General and only one "real estate for sale" sign. The lack of these signs speak volumes and I'm happy there are so few.

There's a man walking on the side of the road--the rain has stopped. And he's carrying three long stem yellow daffodils and I wonder, are they a gift for someone he loves...

Emus and chickens and baby goats and miniature horses surrounded by wire fences--they make their homes in front yards and open fields.

And on the side of the road--in the distance my eyes catch what looks like an old rundown produce stand. I was wrong--the produce stand--the sign flashes open and there are hanging ferns on the eaves of the worn building and tables with baskets filled with fruits and vegetables by the door and it was all I could do to keep driving.

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Next week's story on The Saturday Journal, we will be traveling northwest--

deep into the mountains of Ashe County, NC.

"Roads We Travel"

Part Two

I am grateful for each of you--more than you will ever know and I pray,

the stories shared in this space will encourage and bless you in some small way.

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All photos @copyright Tathel Miller, unless otherwise credited to another photographer.

Soli Deo Gloria

Tathel