Growing Up on Dusty Roads
I grew up a country girl. In fact, the name of my blog — Arounddustyroads — comes straight from childhood. Most of the roads around our house were dirt back then. Paving came later. I rode my horse along those back roads, learned to drive on them, and carry a lifetime of memories of dust billowing behind the car as we rattled our way home.
The Five Seasons of Country Life
Where I grew up, we didn’t just have spring, summer, fall, and winter. We had a fifth season: mud season. During the spring thaw, the roads turned into deep, sticky traps. Getting stuck in a snowbank was annoying — but getting stuck in the mud was a whole different level of misery. You learned quickly where the ruts were, where the ground was soft, and how far you could push your luck.
A Sky Without Streetlights
I don’t get home much these days, but one thing hasn’t changed: there still aren’t any streetlights where I lived. That mattered. Without them, the night sky was extraordinary — a deep velvet blackness with the Milky Way slashing across it like a river of stars.
We’d lie on the lawn and look for constellations. Orion with his bright belt. The Big Dipper, always easy to find. The sky felt endless, ancient, and close enough to touch.
The Perseids and Leonids: Childhood Rituals
Watching the Perseids in August was almost a ritual. We’d call out the shooting stars — There’s one! I saw two! So excited, so full of wishes. You could make a hundred wishes on a good night.
The Leonids came in November. We saw them too, but we didn’t stand around outside to watch. November in the Adirondacks is no place to linger.
The Aurora We Rarely Saw
The one wonder we didn’t see often was the aurora. The Northern Lights belong to the northern sky, and we were just a little too far south. My parents told stories of pulling the car over to watch the lights dance, but I must have been very young — I don’t remember it myself.
These days, the aurora seems to be creeping farther south. My weather app lights up with headlines: Aurora visible in Maine. Northern Lights reach New York. But here, with all the city lights, I still haven’t seen them.
A Wish Still Waiting
I don’t know how many trips my old bones still have left, but I’d like to see the aurora before I die. I went to Alaska once, but it was the wrong time of year. No lights. Alaskans say the aurora sings — that the dancing curtains of color make music.
I’d love to hear it someday.
Sleeping Under the Northern Lights
There’s one dream I hold close: sleeping in a glass igloo in Finland, watching the Northern Lights from bed. Imagine vacationing in an igloo — already magical — but a glass igloo, where the whole night sky becomes your ceiling. If the aurora appeared, you wouldn’t miss a second of it.
Just… wow.
Have You Seen the Sky Dance?
Have you ever watched the night sky light up with dancing colors and more stars than you could ever count? Where were you, and when?
Like most things in nature, we can never be sure when something wonderful will show up. But when it does, it stays with you forever.
According to some Bigfoot enthusiasts, these inverted trees aren’t just random oddities—they’re territorial markers. Picture it: a massive creature yanking a tree from the earth and slamming it back down, roots skyward, as a way of saying, “This is my turf.”
And here’s the kicker: Chuck did it all with a broken jaw. Wildlife experts believe he sustained the injury during a mating-season brawl, but did that slow him down? Not one bite. He slurped, gnawed, and gorged his way to greatness, proving that nothing—not even a busted bite radius—could stop his rise to rotund royalty.
