When the Wilderness Sings
I had a friend who used to tell me that he would turn off his radio on the way to work because the sunrise was too loud. I feel the same way when I drive a particular section of rural, scenic highway in central Wisconsin. It is about a 40 mile stretch of road that, for the most part, drives straight through some county forest land with an occasional marsh, farm, or cranberry bog.

It starts about 5 miles off the Interstate. At first it feels like you are crawling along doing 55 or so since you are no longer at Interstate speed. But I can very seldom drive that section and leave the radio on. The variety and diversity just about any time of the year is remarkable. White birch mix with the evergreens and the desolate maples and are interrupted by the beige of the oak leaves that hang on until spring. The snow has the tan stalks of grass showing through. The moods and atmosphere, the colors and contrasts, the forest and prairie and sandy bogs are beyond my poor human ability to describe.

There is a peace that is so powerful that it breaks the silence without words. To turn on the radio for me would almost be a sacrilege. I can hear the trees shouting for joy, the winds calling out praise, the birds flying into and around the arms of God. It is an experience not to be missed- and never the same twice in a row. I can hardly wait until Monday when I head back after a predicted 4 or more inches of snow on Sunday. It will all be new, and yet filled with the same worship of our God and Creator.