The sky grew thick and blue the further we pressed into the plush back-country. Farm animals transitioned to the majority and trees arched over the asphalt marveling at the cars that passed below. Dogs wander plainly without restraint. Telephone poles like trail markers follow the road and then veer off into the nameless green. Flowers crowd their feet and vines hang about them, a reunion of far removed cousins. Houses revert to old-time honesty, linked by patched roads that toss and turn every which way. The whole county seems to be at rest: the grass, the wind, the animals, blankly resting.
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