A long drive

My commute took about twice as long this morning.  I can't say it was a major upset, but I had to shake it off all the same.

 

We have had some great rain showeres the last couple of nights, the kind that comes knocking on your door and barges right in.  Well, no, we don't have any leaks in the house, so maybe it was more like the big bad wolf huffing and puffing against the house of brick.  But we live in a house of tin, so to speak, so the pelting rain entertained my ears as I read my books.  Last night's fire kept me nice and warm, and drifting off to sleep was easy.

 

I awoke to another world.  The low clouds had really socked us in.  I got the car loaded and out the driveway, but couldn't see in either direction as I pulled on to the highway.  It continued like this for all but three or four of the twent-two miles I drive to work.  I admit that I take the turns at a prudent speed, but will plead ignorant of the actual speed limit on the highway.  I know where I need to watch for wildlife (really all 22 miles) and where to keep an eye out for people or other cars.

 

Today, however, I drove with about twenty-thirty feet of visibility.  A few spots it was less visibility and a few spots it was more.  And two spots the clouds opened up into blue sky and clear air like a commercial for some air freshener or something.  So peculiar!  Mostly, I sat a little hunched over the wheel creeping along in the hopes that any oncoming ranch trucks were doing the same and not barreling down the middle of the road.  The road looked to be hovering in thin air as the sides of the road in my peripheral vision seemed to fade into nothingness.  When I passed the lake, I could only see half way across, and then it disappeared.  It was a long drive....

 

It was quite like a movie set, maybe a Western where the cowboys are all on horses silently moving through a sea of cows looking for a rustler.  But having only seen them once, it felt more like something mystical from The Lord of the Rings movies.  I'll admit I pinched myself, but just once. 

 

I wondered if I would even be able to see Cimarron, but two miles before I got to my turn, everything faded into my rearview mirror as if it never happened.  But I pinched myself, so I know it happened....