This week I’m again flying solo-ish. I think I might copyright that phrase. it’s kind of catchy, don’t you think? Of course, what I mean by that is Earl and I didn’t do anything together. That is unless you count existing together in our own house, he in his man cave and me in the “mom cave”, i.e., my sewing room.

Since there is only a limited number of things Earl can do, I went with my daughter and granddaughter to Eckert’s Grafton Farm in Grafton, Illinois. We rode the ferries (which my granddaughter had never been on before) across the Mississippi River into Calhoun County and the Brussels Free Ferry into Jersey County and Highway 100–The Great River Road.

I know I’ve posted before about this area. It’s just across the Mississippi River northeast of us. In my opinion, it is one of the most beautiful areas around.  Whenever I drive these roads, I feel as if I’ve been transported back fifty years, back to a simpler (not easier) time when we didn’t have so many “things” pulling at us from every which way. Back to when you didn’t have to have someone tutor you on how to be able to watch your television. Hey, we just turned it on and if it wasn’t before 6 a.m. or after midnight, we could watch our choice of probably six or seven different channels! And…it was free! Just the cost of an antenna on the roof.

So when I drive these roads I think about what my life would have been like if I ‘had been of my mother’s generation. She was born in 1929, the beginning of the great depression.  Grandpa was a grain corn farmer who raised cows for butchering and chickens for eggs and butchering. I’ve often fantasized about living on a farm. I think it’s the draw of wide-open spaces that pulls me in. It seems to calm my soul.

I’ve wished very often in my life that I had recognized this inner feeling sooner and had maybe done something to fulfill it. But, I started my adult life and motherhood very young and just went where my life led me, without any real thought of what I wanted. And now that I know, it’s really too late. Neither my husband nor I want the responsibility of taking care of large parcels of land.

We’re at that age where we have to think ahead to the time, probably not in the too distant future, when we will either start having to hire everything done around our place or move to a more self-contained home. I’ve lived here for over thirty years so I really can’t imagine living anywhere else.

One place along our route which I wanted to show them was the Cresswell Cemetery in Brussels, Illinois. Perched on top of a hill, it gives you a panoramic view of the surrounding countryside. I’ve been up here so many times and I never tire of the view.

Next week my husband goes back to the doctor who will then, hopefully, release him from his crutches. He’s cheating a little now and walking around without them but at least he’s still wearing his brace.