Sense of Place

The joy and exhilaration that we find out here in our open spaces close to nature seems to be incomprehensible to those who don’t live and love it.

We are pioneers, building our homes, raising and loving our children and animals, loving our vast, natural landscape, and finding fulfillment in creating our own little piece of hearth and home. We find depth of meaning and purpose in planting a seed and watching it grow.

We hear the sounds of snowflakes drifting down, or of mist sticking to our jackets. We hear a breeze rasping through a clump of dried grass, through the boughs of an elm, or whispering through the needles of a Ponderosa pine – and we know, without looking, which is which.

We count the pinks, magentas, blues, greens, salmons, silvers, and golds of a sunset as we name the colors, all the while knowing that they can’t be counted or even all named in the endless ways they blend together.

We care whether a wind comes from the northwest or the southeast. We find a thrill in the silhouettes found in fog, the stillness of twilight, the croaking of toads when a thunderstorm has filled their little pond.

We notice the difference between the meadowlarks’ excited “I’m happy to be back and this is my nesting spot” springtime song and the soulful chirpings of their autumn “time to go, see you next year” song.

In noticing these countless little things and their nuances, we live life deeply. We appreciate not only a woods rose, but also five different types of clover. We don’t just look at the world around us – we feel the world around us.

This feeling gives us a sense of place. And that sense of place connects us together even if we haven’t met in person, because we know that you can’t live out here without experiencing and appreciating this deep connection with the natural world.

When someone tells me that they hadn’t noticed a significant decline in property values along major thoroughfares Woodmen Road and Academy Boulevard when power lines went up, I’m saddened that they don’t comprehend that there’s a difference between Woodmen or Academy and Ramah Highway or Big Springs (both dirt roads). They don’t understand that a new power line on Woodmen or Academy is just one more power line. It may be taller, but it’s just one among many.

Here where we have broad, unbroken expanses of field and sky, even a stock tank is noticeable from a mile away. Anything taller than a house that isn’t a hard-won tree is an abomination, an intrusion upon our senses and sensibilities. Any sound louder than the tinkling “goodnight” song of the horned larks out across the fields is a raucous shout.

There is no and can be no comparison between Woodmen or Academy and Book or Sengbeil. This is a message that may unite us all out here. But no matter how hard we try, we cannot share it with people who haven’t loved this way of life. And that saddens me.

This website is an attempt to share and to pass along some appreciation for the wonderful close-to-nature experience we enjoy when living a rural life, whether it’s simply country living, ranching, farming, or a cabin in the mountains.