Of Toads and Bucks

11 acres. That's how much land I live on. The nearest paved road is almost two miles away. Nearest store 4 miles. I am on a well.  It's a sheriff's department town. Traffic lights are few and far between.  Except for the Village of Ortonville street lights are non-existent.  Brandon Township has 36 square miles of hills, ponds, woods, swamps, creeks and homes. Some neighbors have horses. One has cows: lots of them. "How can you live way up there, in a place like that?  You must be bored to death!"  That question was actually posed to me by a friend down in that I call the flatlands: Madison Heights. A world of concrete, cars, confusion and endless stores and shops.  I posed the same question in return.  I dont think he understands the rich reward of the country. But Brandon Township is far from wilderness. When I chose to sleep on my screened porch on sultry nights I am aware of a car or two going by during the night hours.  But I am also well aware of the call of the owls, the snort of deer and  the early deep boomings of bullfrogs while spring peepers still peep. I await the flash of the firefly. That is my touch on sanity - - treats of nature. And yesterday while working on my rustic arbor I noted a fat old toad snuggled under a broken flower pot. I re-arranged my wildflower planting plan so he can stay. And I have stopped mowing one section of my meadow where a young buck naps in the dawn hours. And next time I see my friend I will ask him how he can live in a land without bug-slurping toads and bucks in early velvet.