West Kentucky Anglicans: A Friday afternoon winter’s drive

By Robin G. Jordan

Friday afternoon I went for a drive in what folks around here call the county. In this part of western Kentucky, some folks live in town—Murray; others live in the county—Calloway County. I live right on the edge of town. My house is hooked up to the municipal sewage and water system; however, electricity is supplied by the Western Kentucky Rural Electric Cooperative, which supplies electricity to the rural areas of the Jackson Purchase. I live the wrong side of the town limits—or the right side, depending upon your perspective. I am not a townie and therefore I do not have to buy an annual parking sticker to park my car in town.

Calloway County is mostly woods and fields. The fields were covered with a pristine white blanket of snow. The only smoke this time of year was from people’s fireplaces and wood-burning stoves, not from the tobacco barns that dot the countryside. The snow was largely unsullied except for the tracks of wild animals—coyotes, deer, foxes, and whatever else is abroad in the wintertime. Occasionally I would see where one of the county’s human inhabitants had churned up the snow with a four-wheeler.

The snow will be gone in a few days and the countryside will go back to keeping vigil for the coming spring. The birds are certainly eager for springtime. When you hear them early in the morning, you would think that it was already spring.

The reason for the drive is that I wanted to see the county under its blanket of snow. One of the things that I like about living here in western Kentucky is that I can tell one season from another. In southeastern Louisiana where I lived and worked for so many years the seasons tended to blur together. You had the cold months and hot months and rain and thunderstorms during both times of year.

Spring in western Kentucky means an explosion of wildflowers. To some folks dandelions and field violets are weeds but I enjoy them along with the bluets and the other flowers that bloom in the springtime. Spring will find me driving the county in search of the daffodils that grow along the sides of the road or tucked away in the woods. I do the same thing when the dogwoods are in flower.

The signs of new life that are everywhere in the spring—the green blades of wheat sprouting from the earth and the trees bursting into leaf—are a powerful reminder of Christ’s resurrection from the dead. Fields that lay dormant throughout the winter will, by late spring, early summer, be rippling with golden grain.

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