I've been looking around for a good picture of what the Ozarks looks like right now, but haven't found any pictures which capture it. Naturally the perfect pictures presented themselves to me on the way to work this morning--when I didn't have a camera.
I drive a long winding stretch of road through Mark Twain National Forest in order to get to work. It's supposed to be a short-cut, though not much of one. Primarily, I drive it because it's beautiful, there's next to no traffic and it's rarely, if ever, policed by local law enforcement (read: I like to get where I'm going).
This morning I had to watch myself to avoid running off the road in the turns because the view was so dramatic. If you've ever gone for a walk in a pasture in the early morning in the spring and seen the funnel spider webs spread across the tall grass, then you'll know what I'm saying when I say that from the highest points it had the same threads of glass sheen.
It's hard to see this in the same light as the damage I saw in Springfield yesterday. There were homes with so many branches in the yards that I'm pretty sure that the residents couldn't enter them and many of the streets were still slick and dangerous (I found this out the hard way when I had to double back after missing my turn). And then there is the tearful woman I spoke with on the phone today who was just heartbroken over the destruction of the trees in her front yard. The prospect of living without electricity for weeks didn't upset her as much as that did. It's hard to accept that something so beautiful could make so many people so unhappy (and cold and powerless).
I have a houseful of teenagers tonight. Once they've all finished eating pizza they will be practicing for next week's benefit concert at the church. I'm proud of my oldest son for tackling this and I'm glad he likes to bring his friends home to practice, but sometimes . . . I wish I had another room for them to practice in--other than the livingroom, which is next to my office.