Last evening we drove back to Flint from our new home in Hinsdale (a western suburb of Chicago). I saw my new office, got all our furniture and stuff into our new home, and briefly connected with the some of those with whom I will be working in the future.
I anticipated difficult traffic in a construction zone south of Chicago, but the driving was steady and we made good time. I stopped in Kalamazoo for a nice cup of coffee, set the cruise-control, and plugged in my ear buds to listen to some bluegrass music while the family rested. By the time I turned north onto I-69 a lingering mid-summer dusk was settling over lower Michigan. It was a cool evening. That stretch of road from Marshall to Charlotte runs through pretty country. There are few farms. Mostly it is woods and wetlands. The earth was in full flower, fertile and fecund. Deer are a nuisance to farmers and a menace to motorists, but they are always a delight to a poetic heart. In the cool evening they grazed at the margin of fields and stood far away across the tree line. “As the hart longs for flowing streams – .”
Traffic was light and unlike I would normally feel at the end of a hard day of work and driving I longed for the sun to linger a little before saying goodnight and heading west. It seemed to, but finally set and within a few minutes we were surprised to see a full orange moon rise in the haze over the woods to the south east. In the fields and along the road fireflies flirted with one another. Lois asked me to drive back-roads so she could get photos of the moon. Too soon we were home. I wondered how often I would get to revisit our beloved Michigan now that we are beginning a new chapter of our lives in Chicago/Hinsdale/Oakbrook.