Home, it's such a common concept to some people, but the truth is that they don't actually understand the concept of home. Home is somewhere where you feel safe, happy, and calm. It is a place you belong. Home is not necessarily the house among which you live, it could be anywhere. My home isn't the house I grew up in, but in the memories I've made growing up. My home is the locust tree in my backyard. My home is my lake where I have roamed endlessly for hours, the lake where the Great Blue Heron lives, where I run through the overflow of water when it rains for days at a time, where I stand in awe at the phenomenon that sets into the horizon every ending day. My home is my peace, it is my livelihood. It is where I belong and where I need to be. My woods are my home, my creeks, my valley, the junipers, the cottonwoods, the seemingly menacing thorns of the locust trees. The sycamores, the Osage oranges, the willows, the honeysuckle, the wild cherries, hell even the rose vines and poison ivy. The squirrels that scramble from tree to tree, the rabbits the scurry into the underbrush. My home is what I love. What I love is what I love to live for. I love standing in the tall grass of my valley watching as the willows sway in the wind, nearby I hear the birds yelling. I instantly know what the means: Sage is nearby. Which for your knowledge is the Great Horned Owl that lives in the valley, named after the Osage Orange trees not the herb, sage. The other bigger sized birds follow the owl around probably because they are waiting to scavenge any prey that sage catches or for territorial reasons. The owl soars across the valley, the other birds are closely trailing him/her. I love witnessing these events, they speak to my soul. Home is where your mind and soul are free. Home is where you are free.
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Short random writings
Non-FictionI will randomly write about something in my life, or something that influences me. I hope these are good and I hope you take your time to read them. Thank you.
