35 Drives on Grey Road 3

Damn! The need for radiation therapy was unexpected news for me a few months ago. Treatments were scheduled five days a week for a total of thirty five, in London. It took me a couple of weeks to resolve that it really was the only option in my fight against thyroid cancer.

I decided to drive daily as long as I felt well, anticipating the September and October weather to be perfect. This venture was a means to an end and I would make the most of traveling through pretty, rural Grey County via Grey Road 3.

The drives that were anticipated to be, at the very least, inconvenient, quickly became a comfort – as I was safely ensconced in my trusty Jetta with a world of beauty surrounding me. Turning south on Road 3 every day always brought energy and optimism and this increasingly familiar, quiet country road guided me home again every night.

A few good luck omens presented themselves along the route. At least that’s how I chose to consider the hawk that hangs out on the hydro lines near concession 10, a momma racoon and three little ones spotted very late at night in early September, a driver ahead of me stopped for speeding, saving me from getting a ticket and a couple of very lucky swerves to avoid potential disasters with skunks.

A change in the landscape surprised me one early afternoon. A barn raising was taking place, with a dozen or more Amish men straddling the growing framework. The barn was completely enclosed within the week.

It seemed important to notice and remember these details. I don’t know why. Possibly I was feeling more sentimental than usual. In any case, the writerly part of my brain was paying attention to how I could accurately describe what was happening around me. Road trips of this scale can provide lots of time for thinking. 

The topic for my next blog might be how to get descriptions right as I thought a lot about how to transcribe the visual to the written word. One day, early on, the sky was filled with many types of clouds in every direction all the way to the horizon. They clamored and tumbled like a slow motion kaleidoscope. No slivers or patches of blue were visible, yet wondrously, the sun shone brilliantly. I’d like to tweak this description.

Mondays are wash days for many families along Road 3. Long clotheslines were full of darks and lights backlit by the morning sun. I wanted to take a picture but never did. Monday nights I shared the road with trucks hauling animal trailers that arrived late to Keady in preparation for the Tuesday morning market. It was easy to imagine the animals’ bewilderment and discomfort in their predicament.

I want to remember the soft glow of light from the dairy barns at dusk, the pink and orange sunsets reflected in farm house windows and farmers driving their combines in the fields well after dark, surrounded by clouds of lamp-lit dust.

Hubby and friends were kindly insistent on driving me quite a few times and it was nice to have company and to be chauffeured. They worried that I was tired but I was buoyed by the season change and weather warm enough to keep the car windows open day and night. 

I head to my last treatment tomorrow. Future drives on Road 3 will be less frequent but I’ll hold on to the tiny glimpses of rural life that I witnessed and remind myself to slow down, notice all that’s around me and enjoy every moment.