There was a controversy that started when some of us were awake. It involved concerts held in the early 1970s, or events in a sea of the miasma of a half century of active life. There was a memory of a fellow named Rod Stewart, whose face framed with famous unruly hair appeared in the lowered window of a stretch limo. He asked where the stadium might be located. He apparently had a show to do, and by coincidence, it was the same one some of us planned on attending.

That was the first brush with fame for some of us. Then a flash-back to the present, some fifty trips around the sun later. In this present, the cascade of events surrounding the longest birthday party in collective memory unfolded with the insistence of a curving country road.

The celebration had started with the twilight anesthetic administered on a table a few dozen miles from the farm, and the excitement was just beginning. Where to start? Life in the Country, and as Mr. Stewart observed, the Country Comfort of coming home. So, that would follow the Hummingbird festival on the new feeders on the back deck, the diving buzzing wonder encompassing their passage and pausing for sugar water.

With guests of the property, an early morning trip to town to dine at the famous Frost Cafe for a marvelous breakfast in the company of the pre-church rush crowd, well tattooed and almost universally overweight in an assertive manner we did not recall before these last plague years..

Returning on the County Road in the riot of greenery. Parking the Panzer, we saw the injured deer, limping and grazing, ribs outlined against the pelt. The immediate response was to ascertain an appropriate response. Attempting to contact wildlife management to determine what course of action- or inaction- would be either legal or humane, depending on state regulation.

There is apparently no wildlife here, outside the 0930-1630 office hours, Monday to Friday. So we let the injured animal wander off without external intervention.

Then, with guests and neighbors now energized, there was the morning Cake Exchange. A citrus-topped magnificence arrived from the Ukrainians next door, while the home-made chocolate fantasy was liberated from the crystal cake cover. Both were ceremonially sliced and divided between homesteads for lavish snacks throughout the country afternoon.

Under the awning on the back deck, we watched the Fire Ring that glistened in rich gray in the gentle rain that will forestall the need of watering the growing vegetables and flowers. It polished the sitting rocks as the clouds slowly opened to reveal hints of bright blue that promised coming goodness.

Splash was grinning at our guest, a lovely lady from Up North who enjoyed the country comfort of fellowship and laughter in the symphony provided by the Farm’s Feral creatures. The cats deigned to climb on the still-warm hood of the car. The deer nudged their injured party along. The birds made a sequences fly-by, with the Eagle high over the pasture, the Egret with a low pass, and the buzzards in amazing grace circling in effortless flight. Splash began to sing something Mr. Stewart used to warble a half century ago. A song about comfort in the country, and the road that takes us home:

And it’s good old country comforts in my bones
Just the sweetest sound my ears have ever known
Just an old fashioned feeling in my bones
Country comfort’s and the road that’s going home!

Loma and Rocket stood up, inspired by Splash’s interpretation of someone else’s lyrics, old and respectful ones that reflected the joy of being home in the wild riot of foliage and moving nature. They joined, while Melissa and Buck stood by DeMille, with no attorney needed to interpret their feeling of sudden unity and joy:

And it’s good old country comforts in our bones
Just the sweetest sound our ears have ever known
Just an old fashioned feeling in our bones, woo hoo
Country comfort’s and the road that’s going home!

It was the darnedest damn thing, this feeling of freedom and expansive good will. This next trip around the sun will have its moments, we are confident. Some of them will be trying. But there is something in the beauty of this little place at the end of our Country Road amid this profusion of rich emerald trees, the pastures neatly mowed, and scene set for happiness. The chorus rose and joined:

And it’s good old country comforts in our bones
Just the sweetest sound our ears have ever known
Just an old fashioned feeling in our bones
Country comfort and the road that’s going home
Country comfort. And the road that’s going home…

Copyright 2022 Vic Socotra
Lyrics courtesy Elton John & Bernie Taupin
www.vicsocotra.com