A few weeks ago I was feeling a bit out of sorts, as many of us do from time to time. Was it the deadly virus, violence and riots, the tanking economy? Well, yes, but not entirely. What was it, then? What I eventually came to realize was that after two years I was still waiting for the land to posses me and for me to completely embrace my new surroundings in the country. To experience and write about living in the country has been like a dream come true. The last thing I expected was to miss the city, which I had spent years trying to get away from. The action and movement that I had known my whole life, the traffic and busyness, neighbors and dog walkers and bike riders, stoplights, buses, taking a walk in the city, and just the sense of being around what is happening. In the city no matter what time at night you go out there is something going on, there are streetlights and people driving, walking, running. Everything I wanted to escape from I missed. Here in the country when the sun sets it is dark, almost pitch black if there is no moon. There is an occasional truck or tractor moving along our gravel road at night. In the fall the coyotes begin calling again. In the country there are neighbors who live way down the gravel road, and they are friendly and willing to help when needed, but most people here want to be left alone. In the city people mostly want to be left alone as well, but because of the closeness there are more exceptions. If I wanted to speak with a neighbor in the city, I would walk across the street and talk. Out here you are far enough away from each other it becomes a planned visit. Once I realized what my problem was I decided a replacement plan was in order. Tractors for buses, gravel for freeways, and wide open skys for a house next door. It will be a pleasure to keep working on this transition.

A single engine airplane has been flying over the vast fields that surround our acreage. My guess is it’s a training plane or a very adventurous solo flier. The same thing happens each time it appears overhead. First we hear it, then locate it up in the sky. It begins the same aerobatics each time, a steep vertical climb until it can not go any higher, the plane turning over and beginning a plunge straight down, wings spinning, cutting the engine as it drops faster, plummeting toward the ground until the engine restarts and the plane evens out, flying horizontal again. Along comes a barrel roll, some normal flying, then flying upside down, then the vertical climb and plunge again. For around half an hour it repeats these maneuvers until it flies off to the north from where it came, only to reappear in a few days and do it all over again. If I am outside I can’t turn away from the show, I have to watch it flying about. The most thrilling part is when the engine is cut and the plane begins twirling straight down to the ground and you are convinced it will crash into the corn or bean fields and send up a huge Hollywood explosion until, bbrrrrrrr, the engine starts again and the day is saved. Maybe my fascination with all of this goes goes back to a favorite film of mine when I was a kid in the 1970’s called The Great Waldo Pepper. The air scenes in the movie used real aircraft, which gives a realistic dimension missing from films using models or CGI. A young, handsome Robert Redford is in the staring role as a barnstorming pilot during the 1920’s. Now, years later, I can look up and watch my own Waldo Pepper.