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The rain fell gently earlier in the day, which was a good thing in this year of drought. Gardening season is coming to an end, I tell myself as I thin out the row of carrots.
This year’s garden has been quirky. The potato crop is pitifully small. The kale plants barely grew all summer. I scored a bonanza with wax beans and wish I’d planted twice as many.
These thoughts are crossing my mind when my husband comes out to the garden and tells me he’s going to town to run errands. Would I like to ride along?
“I can’t.” I think of my plan which is to finish numerous chores, all tedious. I look around. The day is sunny and pleasant. Soon winter winds will blow and icy snow will grip my world. Why don’t I just throw caution to the wind and play hooky on this pleasant early autumn day?
I tell Dick I’ve changed my mind. Yes. I will go, so he backs our ’46 Chevy Street rod out of the garage, I grab a jacket, just in case, hop in the car and we take off down the South Shore Drive.
We roll down the windows, crank up Buddy Holly’s “That’ll Be the Day” and cruise. The music and the rumble of the 350 Chevy Tripower engine pleasantly fill the air.
The wind blowing through my hair feels wonderful. The pavement is damp in spots from the earlier rainfall. The air smells fresh. I note the forest’s leaves have started to turn. As a result of this dry summer, many leaves are turning a dull brownish yellow. However, others appear normal.
We turn onto County Road 8 and past the swampy area where sometimes spider webs fill the scrub trees and sparkle like diamonds in the sun. We zoom down the Gunflint Trail. Lake Superior spreads out below, looking calm, shining in the sun.
We slow down as we round the curve, drive past the water tower and into the town. A stop at the post office and a short trip to the hardware store completes our chores.
It’s Labor Day Saturday, and the town is jam-packed with visitors. They fill the sidewalks. They troop through the stores. They wait in line at restaurants. Now and then, someone gives us the thumbs up as we roll through town. People enjoy seeing a car from a long-ago era. We wave back.
Eventually we decide to go home. The ride’s been fun, but the peace and quiet of my garden call to me.
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