Where are you off to?

I just watched a red winged blackbird attach itself to the pointy end of the stem of a bush in the field directly in front of my sight. And only seconds later a rather hefty tractor happened along in the same field, apparently cultivating the soil for crops. We’ve often wondered what was to become of the open field which separates us from the Mississippi River.  Until now – that is, since our arrival here on November 1st, 2022 – the land (perhaps 5 acres) has been lying dormant adjacent the distant farm house and outbuildings. All the other farmlands as far as the eye can see are demonstrably prepared for corn or wheat crops. The idle speculation of the apartment building residents is that residential development is not unforeseen on the immediate property though the proximity to the river is felt to ensure preservation of the flood plain and thus a respectable distance from expansion along the shoreline. Meanwhile however it appears that the owner of the farmland (or his tenant) is intent upon farming the land.

This moderate farming qualification of the inexpressibly magnificent landscape does not dampen its allure in the least.  The prospect of corn stalks in August is not displeasing. The tractor’s steady progress has already demonstrated the overall floodplain which was hitherto secreted by the rampant vegetation.  Now that even some of the land along the shoreline has been cleared it is apparent to me that there is a generous swath of land along the shoreline which, because it is so continuously low, would never be tolerated for intrusion of any kind. Notably the tractor itself has demarcated a limit along the river which is significantly set back from the already depleted springtime shore. The limitation is also along the upper limit of the land in that immediate area (although the tractor has taken some liberties which for crop management would be excusable but not for serious construction). Interestingly too the tractor operator has not encroached upon the eastern boundary of the land along which is a row of mature trees (perhaps indicative of the property limit next to the adjacent farmland which has already been cultivated).

Coincidentally this topographic absorption follows a private reflection I had earlier this afternoon as I marvelled at the scenery and applauded the fortuity at this late stage of my life to be so positioned to have these incredible views upriver across endless farmlands stretching to the horizon.  It is a picture impossible to have imagined. The landscape is enhanced by the silent passage of canoes and kayaks upon the river and the increasingly vocal sounds of the bullfrogs as the sun begins to set.

Though I haven’t yet concluded the logic of the proposition, I am presently consumed by the belief that I needn’t look any further in life than the vista and moderate promise that for the moment at least reasonably appears before me. Certainly I accept that fortune is not inalterable; but without descending to possible mournful wariness or inappropriate misapprehension I maintain my pluck and favour by relishing the richness and boldness of the moment. It likely amounts to no more than an exhibition of my daily constancy and seemingly intractable buoyancy and resolve; but I honestly question both the utility and desirability of looking beyond these picturesque boundaries. One is reminded that discovery is unquenchable but this needn’t dilute the strength of one’s current perceptions.  But, as I say, it is an argument in the works. Given the opportunity and the inclination, all can be refashioned in an instant. Nonetheless I consider that I am exceedingly close to the juncture where I confess that I return to my point of commencement only to discover whence I have come.