Winter provides intertwining with heart of life

I have been traveling up and down Interstate 65 for more than 60 years now, enjoying the life in two worlds: Indianapolis and Harrison County. Each location has its own charm and attraction, but together they form a rich and wonderful life for me.

Indianapolis has much to do that is mentally stimulating and socially invigorating. Harrison County is a splendid mix of hometown appeal and enriching outdoor activity and landscape.

Who can ask for anything more?

I hardly need a calendar to know what time of year it is as I watch the traffic whiz by me on I-65. Starting about mid-November, hundreds of recreational vehicles are heading south loaded with expectations of a great warm and fun-filled winter. Starting about the time tulips bloom in Southern Indiana, that same train of RVs is seen returning to “regular life and family” in the northbound lane of the interstate.

It seems I am constantly being asked if we “go south in the winter.” In Indianapolis, I respond to the question with a definite “Yes. We love to winter at our farm outside Corydon, Ind.” When asked the same question while in Corydon, I elaborate more by adding, “We love the winters in Indiana.” Yes, we really feel that way.

Not that we don’t get cold ankles in the house or aren’t weary of a lot of gray days. We like warmth and sun like everybody else, but superseding those conditions is our enjoyment of the changing of the seasons. There is so much to feel and learn from the cycle of planting, growth, harvest and rest brought on by changing temperatures, moisture and light.

My body and my spirits have rhythms that coincide with the patterns in nature. Being a part of the natural world makes me aware of my place in the ongoing cosmic life. I feel attuned to all of God’s creation. There is stimulus, instruction and security in all that. My being is a teeny-tiny replica of how the whole system of life works.

Living amidst the limestone-based hills, I see the transformations that are always apart of life: upheavals from the bowels of our planet. I love the way plants — winter wheat in the midst of cold weather, moss clinging to rocks in shady places — adapt to various growing conditions. An autumn day with swirling colored leaves and a harvesting of crops is so stimulating and satisfying at the same time.

One of the bonuses of being an old lady is to be snowbound while, from a warm house, observing the beauty the white blanket brings to the landscape. I delight in the moist soil of March that oozes up, preparing the ground to accept new growth. What a sign of happiness and hope to see the first daffodils blooming in snowy patches on a warm, spring day. It is a thrill the following months to see the greening of lush forests and flourishing farm lands. Yes, to us, the changing of the seasons is about the best show in town.

We drove Interstate 64 east through Southern Indiana the other day. It is a ride through a beautiful park almost the whole way from the Illinois state line to Louisville. The sycamore trees with their magical white trunks were reaching up to the heavens like angels come to earth. The volunteer cedars formed a green softening of the landscape which masks their stubborn determination to survive. The ever-present hawks sat perched, waiting for a sign of dinner below. Dried grasses waved in the breeze as vehicles raced by. The sky was light blue with puffs of care-free clouds seemingly just out for the ride on the soft breezes.

If you have to commute to work, who could dream of a better way to rev up for a good day than to drive the rural wonderland from Corydon to Louisville? Want a relaxing half hour to unwind from a work day in the city or prepare for a night with your family and friends? I-64 west provides all that accompanied often by a spectacular sunset.

When I sit at my farm observation window these winter days, there is little obvious movement. With a pair of binoculars, my ability to see farther and clearer reveals more and more activity through the fields and woods. Adding to all this anticipation of a coming attraction is the call of birds. Raucous blackbirds swirl in the sky over the open field in front of our cabin. They are such show boaters, acting like they have just discovered a big event that they control. At the same time, I wonder how a single tiny sparrow can create such a loud call in the early morning. And if that huge pileated woodpecker taps on a tree with his mighty bang on a snowy day, you know you have witnessed a glory of God.

Go to Florida for the winter? I think not for me. I don’t want to miss intertwining with the heart of life.