Directions to My Home

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There are several routes to use to come to my house, but, if I can, I like to direct people here by way of Pea Ridge.  I think the scenery is nicer that way.  And I like the name.

Turn off the main highway at a little red brick country church with a shelter built outside for potluck dinners, Decoration Day celebrations, or homecomings.  The narrow road takes you up through the woods to what we now call Billy Goat Hill because there’s a goat farm there.

At the top of the hill, a sharp left turn takes you winding through the countryside to the other side of the ridge on a narrow blacktop road with several right angle turns, by isolated country homes where families have lived for a long time.  Not farm houses, because there seems to be little farming going on.  Just country living, out of the city, the noise, the traffic, with trailers and ranch style brick houses and ponds and quiet.

Then it’s down the hill and across the little creek as the road straightens out and becomes a tree shaded lane, with the trees overhanging the road, making a tunnel to drive through—a tunnel that changes with the seasons.

Just the drive to my house sometimes still gives me a thrill.