Bridgeport

Trace Inn: antiques off the wall

golden leaves

Red Hill State Park: a lake reflection of autumn

There were churches with no one inside, barns marking the miles that passed and mailboxes lined up on the edge of the road. Driving along, we landed on a unpaved, dirt road and rocks sputtered underneath our tires. Over the phone, I yelled to my brother, "we are in nowhere man's country! And...I just saw a yellow butterfly." That's the kind of road trip it was, on a two hour drive from Effingham to Bridgeport, Illinois. All I can say is that it was well worth it. I was beginning to like road trips and understand the true meaning of country road, take me home. I visited a friend, who I haven't seen for two years since Germany. Fall was in the air, the leaves were turning crisp brown and there were clusters of red, orange and gold in the trees. The smell of a campfire, standing in front of that lake and being surrounded by fall, my mom, a real friend and along with new friends was all I needed in that moment.