I live in the “middle of nowhere”. The neighbor-less neighborhood called backcountry is where I live for half of the time; the other half I live in an ever-growing college city, Columbia. I have cultivated a special appreciation for each journey home through the winding Missouri back roads that bring me to the place where my soul rests. Though the roads may take me to my house, my home exists far beyond its walls.
My country house itself sits front and center in our approximately 9 acres of land. Circling around the white two-story house there is a field full of soft milkweed, ticks, and various wild tall grasses. Years ago, someone decided to hack a path straight down the middle that cuts back to a creek that rests behind the house. The creek …show more content…
The treeless hill rises to the east so that the sloping side perfectly faces any sunset. Daisies, crimson clover, and black-eyed Susans mix with a type of scraggly grass. Each thick stalk of the grass catches and then reflects the setting sunlight into a deep auburn orange that burns the field with color. This is exactly where I venture. Sitting in the grass, below the horizon of the tallest strand in front of me, I let the color consume my surroundings. The creek fades from its normal physical presence, and the house is out of my mind. The wind and the sunset are all that is left. It is warm and humbling. I can listen to God’s whisper twirl around me telling me I am small, yet loved more than the sun that follows this earth across the sky. This is the place I long to show those dear to my heart and extend my experience beyond my own eyes into theirs. Even now, words fail to capture the true essence of the beauty that God brings down to this hill every single night. Extreme emotion draws me to my golden hill. From high exuberance to low depression, radical feelings send me running, always running, to the hill. Yet, my conscience cautions me to flee to my hill sparingly lest the magic disappear with the familiarity. I have been there four or five times in my life—most times softly crying from the sheer artistry that was before …show more content…
Although I have lived in the country house since I was five, the past ten years my father and I have lived in seven others around Columbia. In fact, Union will be the first time I am living in one place since I was six years old. Home has never been a house for me, and the place I find peace has never been a house. Find the wind, a climbable structure, or a glorious sunset and I will be home in that moment, for wherever I go God goes with me. Glimpsing the imagery of nature that surrounds my house is to subtly identify what is important to me. Nature is my home; it will be there as I journey away from my family and as I go back to the places my soul
My country house itself sits front and center in our approximately 9 acres of land. Circling around the white two-story house there is a field full of soft milkweed, ticks, and various wild tall grasses. Years ago, someone decided to hack a path straight down the middle that cuts back to a creek that rests behind the house. The creek …show more content…
The treeless hill rises to the east so that the sloping side perfectly faces any sunset. Daisies, crimson clover, and black-eyed Susans mix with a type of scraggly grass. Each thick stalk of the grass catches and then reflects the setting sunlight into a deep auburn orange that burns the field with color. This is exactly where I venture. Sitting in the grass, below the horizon of the tallest strand in front of me, I let the color consume my surroundings. The creek fades from its normal physical presence, and the house is out of my mind. The wind and the sunset are all that is left. It is warm and humbling. I can listen to God’s whisper twirl around me telling me I am small, yet loved more than the sun that follows this earth across the sky. This is the place I long to show those dear to my heart and extend my experience beyond my own eyes into theirs. Even now, words fail to capture the true essence of the beauty that God brings down to this hill every single night. Extreme emotion draws me to my golden hill. From high exuberance to low depression, radical feelings send me running, always running, to the hill. Yet, my conscience cautions me to flee to my hill sparingly lest the magic disappear with the familiarity. I have been there four or five times in my life—most times softly crying from the sheer artistry that was before …show more content…
Although I have lived in the country house since I was five, the past ten years my father and I have lived in seven others around Columbia. In fact, Union will be the first time I am living in one place since I was six years old. Home has never been a house for me, and the place I find peace has never been a house. Find the wind, a climbable structure, or a glorious sunset and I will be home in that moment, for wherever I go God goes with me. Glimpsing the imagery of nature that surrounds my house is to subtly identify what is important to me. Nature is my home; it will be there as I journey away from my family and as I go back to the places my soul