After a weekend hockey tournament in San Antonio, it felt good to turn onto our dirt driveway. The weeds grew a foot in two days and our faithful yellow lab was waiting for us in front of the house.
The driveway is full of potholes from all the rain we had earlier in the year. It's on my husband's long list of things to do: get gravel to fill the holes. Our cars never stay clean for very long because of all the dust we kick up when we drive. But there's something comforting about the sound of tires on a gravel road. We enjoy looking down the drive to see who might be coming up to the house. I like the way the old road curves around to the pond and goes over the dam through a tunnel of trees.
It's peaceful, and I never get tired of it.
Most of the homes around here have paved driveways and electric gates. They have nicely landscaped entrances to their custom dwellings. We just have a rusty antique farm rake, half hidden in the tall grass, that marks the entrance to the long dirt drive up to the house. It's easy to miss if you're not looking for it.
And we like it that way.
