See Spot

"See Spot. See Spot run. Run, Spot, run." Yup, the plot line is as lame as it was when I was in first grade learning to read. For you sweet babies who have no idea what any of this means, Spot was a little black-and-white dog featured in early reading primers back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. He was joined by Puff, the orange cat and two young humans, Dick and Jane. Their adventures were dull at best but, in defense of the stories, I do not know if I was ready for "Glimpse Spot. Glimpse Spot scuttle. Scuttle, Spot, scuttle." It just doesn't have the right ring to it.

Speaking of adventures, another spot comes to mind. Not the four-legged kind but the literal spots found on many maps. I am old school and still enjoy looking at paper maps and gazetteers, in particular. Recently, we were invited to an out-of-town retirement party. We knew the fastest route was the mind-numbing-see-nothing interstate. Rather than succumb to the easy way, I got out the gazetteer and started looking for spots, those little dots that may or may not be a point of interest, but most likely have a story of some sort. My husband was game and we set off in search of new roads and hidden treasures.

The road we chose did not disappoint. The velvety green grass layered the rolling hills like fresh fondant. Farm places studded the landscape with their utilitarian buildings and equipment. Freshly planted fields revealed tiny plants poking their green heads above rich, loamy soil. Small spots on our map occasionally translated into burgs, populations of 220 or 85. The little town of Nora, pop. 6, boasts a historical country store now used for an old-fashioned sing-along during the Christmas season. My husband knew the owner of the property who also plays the organ for the show. We pulled off the road and parked near the store. The gentleman moseyed over and he and my husband enjoyed a few minutes of catching up. He offered a full tour but we did have a party to attend so we declined this time. For the record, I think the population of six includes the five lazy cats ambling around the property.

We took a different route on our return trip from the party. My husband wanted to stop at a couple of places he spent time working on during his years as a carpenter. Once again, the roads did not disappoint. Lush grasses greeted us and trees showed off their leafy new spring coats. A prominent hill along the way was once visited by the Lewis and Clark Expedition on a stifling hot day in August of 1804. Local lore had promised them sightings of little people with big heads living in the mound. No such folks greeted them but they noted it was "a most beautiful landscape."

We were able to drive by the places my husband had worked on. I enjoyed his descriptions of the trials and tribulations involved in remodeling older buildings in need of updates. His patience and perseverance always amazes me. I am more of a "good-enough-and-get-it-done" person. No houses would be left standing under my watch.

Soon enough we pulled into our driveway. I closed the gazetteer and gathered up the empty water bottles, a signal to the end of our road trip. We may not have discovered lost treasures or little folks with big heads but we had to agree with Lewis and Clark, it was a most beautiful landscape.