When I was young mom and dad would take us three girls on Sunday drives in the country. We would splash in streams, collect fossils, hunt for arrowheads, and pick pods and cattails, (which my mother would spray gold-you might remember that craze—or not). When autumn came we would search for bittersweet along the country roads and mom would put them in a cornucopia along with gourds and plastic fruit.
As the three of us girls grew up, moved away and started jobs and families of our own, the Sunday drives in the country came to a halt. I don’t remember when or how they started again, but this time the grandchildren tagged along as well. We stopped for several months after my mom passed away, so I was delighted a few weeks ago when dad announced that we should wear our old clothes on Sunday because he was taking us on a Sunday drive.
Dry creek bed along the way.
My nephew showing off his finds
Our first stop was in a pasture behind my dad’s cousin’s home. The hills were huge (and here you thought Kansas was flat). The cousins enjoyed picking up rocks, sticks, and bones, and setting out on their own journey while the adults watched from above. I wish you could get a feel for how large these hills really are.
The cousins and dad
The girls half way down the hill
Our next stop was a secret cabin in the woods, which was situated where two creeks converge into a river. The cabin was built by a farmer for his wife, who had cancer and was not expected to live. The woman beat the cancer and now her husband is very ill. There are only a hand full of people who know about this lovely cabin, and we were fortunate they let us visit. The cabin is absolutely charming and cozy with a fireplace, a sweet loft and decorated in a woodsy theme.
My daughter by the river
The cousins and dad beside the Marias des Cygne river.
Cousins hamming it up while dad is trying to give a lesson on the river and how it was made.
My daughters hanging on a vine