So it is a good time to hightail it to the isolated log house in Wyoming where the only view is of rolling grasslands rising into pine-covered mountains. If you’re lucky, you’ll see eagles soaring and buzzards circling high in the sky and bear and elk and big-horn sheep and maybe even a herd of wild horses. Perhaps you’ll hear the thrilling sound of wolves howling, though the horses and the wolves become less likely with every passing year as we continue our war against those useless creatures. Horses eat grass cows could eat; wolves might eat the cow itself and we can’t have that.
And finally, fall in Minnesota. Crystal clear lakes and jewel-toned trees massed on the hills. Crimson and copper and bronze and gilt and magenta, punctuated by the predictability of the unchanging evergreens. Lazing in an Adirondack chair on a pier poking out into the water, grateful for a warm autumn sun. Watching great lines of honking geese, doing what I will do (when I’m rich), heading for warmer climes before the brutalities of winter set in. Perhaps I’d have a lazy fishing pole in my hand but it would more likely be a Kindle.
Sigh. The reality is that I’m still waiting to get rich and the chances are I’ll spend the rest of my life – winter, spring, summer and fall — right here in a small town in Indiana.
Vicki Williams is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached through the newspaper at email@example.com.