Spring Break…
When you live in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, the promise of Spring Break carries with it a great longing for warm, snowless climes. Thus this year, as we began to contemplate that magic week at the end of March, my husband and I looked south, but not as far south as we usually do.
This time we decided to try a new-to-us destination: Branson, Missouri, home of country music. (Well, one of the homes of country music.) Our journey to Branson, via car, was mostly uneventful. We did drive through a violent thunderstorm, during which we spotted a television van heading full speed into the heavy weather, followed by a couple of storm chasers.
Upon seeing them my husband made the classic deadpan comment: “Hmm, storm chasers. That can’t be good.”
It wasn’t good, but we survived – obviously – and topped that on our way home, by driving through a fire that had jumped the highway from a burning cornfield. With flames leaping above the car on both sides, we slowed to a crawl and prayed that the vehicles ahead of us would keep going so our tires wouldn’t melt. Don’t let anybody tell you that the state of Illinois is a boring place.
Our time in Branson was absolutely joyous. We attended two or three shows each day. The people were kind, the shows were classy and good down-home restaurants were plentiful. We had a ball, and we bought enough CDs to last us the whole sixteen-hour drive home.
It’s spring. Each year Trumpeter Swans stop on our bay and spend a week before they continue their long journey to the Arctic. We always try to count them. One hundred. Two hundred. On Spring Break. How joyous!
An abundance of blessings to all of you,
Sue