The wind was weaving through the trees creating a rhythmic strumming that seemed to propel him at a swifter gate than normal. Those that know had advertised gale force winds for this day and he wanted to experience it firsthand. Walking along one of the higher ridges in the county he could see for miles and still could not see the wind. However, the invisible air was forcing the saplings sideways and their sources to sway. The gray sky hinted rain, but the wind was actually in control of this play.
This was certainly a unique piece of land. Unique now, though typical before, the land was a splendid example of northern Illinois at the turn of the last century. One of the reasons the tribes stayed here so long was the navigable waterways, boundless prairies, rolling hillsides staging countless oak trees, and the abundant game. This area had been preserved and looked as it did hundreds of years earlier. The moraines and kettles, roller coasting through the woodlands had been left by the scathing glaciers many thousands of year’s earlier. This he found very pleasing.
Stopping momentarily, he considers the comparison of this balanced system sustaining itself for so many years, and the interior of his own body. Both systems give and take requiring relatively little maintenance to sustain life. Yet, what makes each stand out is the spirit which flows through. A spirit, though difficult to describe, becomes so apparent when observed carefully at any given moment. The wind has lifted his spirit on this afternoon and he feels light, loose, and alive.
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