Cornstalks border my east and west, standing guard to this row of houses. Harvested a month ago, they are silent golden protectors, speaking only when the wind blows through. The coyotes keep their distance, but at night you can hear them howling; they are hunting. I am grateful for these cornstalk sentinels.
The world looks different further south, and in so many ways it is. We spent the morning working in the front yard and left to get some lunch. When we drove back in, I noticed we’d left the garage door open and the lawn was strewn with power tools. You couldn’t do that in the suburbs. Well you could, but more than likely they’d be gone when you returned. We are in the heartland. Down here you grow things, hunt things and help people.
The cows make strange noises at night; there is an occasional eerie wail. With the mass of stars overhead and this combination of animal calls, it’s as if we’ve entered another dimension.
Yet I see no evidence of “Ascension Awareness” here. Life is straightforward. It includes work, raising kids and crops, and play; all good things. I feel so deeply human here. This is my race.
I can’t deny feeling a bit out of place though. I have no internet access in this rural yard where I sit. For two days I’ve been unable to check in on what has become an important part of my daily life; my family of light workers. It’s been interesting. I feel, not quite like a fish out of water, but like the Ugly Duckling; accepted completely yet just a little bit different. We all pretend not to notice and I will move on soon enough.
