"There is much confusion between land and country. Land is where corn, gullies, and mortgages grow. Country is the personality of the land, the collective harmony of its soil, life, and weather." Those words by Aldo Leopold in "A Sand County Almanac" have become crystal-clear for me lately.

We live on a piece of land here on Sherpe Road near Westby. I tell people that we live in the country but it wasn't until this week that I really understood those words of Aldo Leopold and what country really is. It's funny how a person can read or hear something many times and not grasp the meaning of it.

We share the land around our house with an abundance of wildlife that includes several deer. We lost a couple of them recently when they were hit by cars near the entrance to Sherpe Road and Highway 14. We still have four deer that we've been watching in the fields around our house and down by the pond in back of us. We were worried that one deer that's been keeping to itself was the lone survivor of a group of three we had seen. It was sad to think she was now alone. That deer was hanging around the wooded area a hundred feet from our house.

Then last Monday evening, just as it was getting dark, I noticed her in the tall grass under a tree at the edge of the woods. She appeared to be licking something. I got my binoculars to get a closer look. She was licking a newborn fawn. Soon it got up on wobbly legs and began sucking. It was one of those moments that Leopold talked about. There among the tall grass that was gently swaying in the evening breeze, new life had begun on the land. There was a rhythmic motion to the grass that reminded me of waves rolling across a body of water. It seemed very appropriate for new life to emerge from that water. It was a moment to remember… a country moment.

The next day Linda saw the doe emerge from the trees and head down the lane beside our house. The new fawn soon followed her, running to catch up. Another country moment.

This weekend we've all dealt with excessive rain, as one storm after another has moved through the area. They're calling it a bigger storm than the one that devastated the area less than a year ago. That was referred to as the thousand-year flood. I don't know what this one will be called! Our "dirt" lawn resembled a lake at times. Now it's a sea of mud, saturated by 8-10 inches of rain.

We live on one of the highest points on Coon Prairie and can see for miles in all directions. The storm spotters sat on the road near our house at various times, watching the storm clouds for funnel formations. As I watched the ominous clouds fill the horizon and roll toward us with brilliant flashes of lightning, it was a sight to behold.

At times like that, I realize that Nature is in command and we have no control over what it delivers, be it tornados or floods. Those who live in the country are very aware of that. You can see it in all its glory and fury. Watching those storms was another country moment.

I've told Linda about the changing cloud formations, sunsets, and sunrises, and how each one is different. I really missed seeing those daily occurrences while living in the city. Now she knows and understands what those moments are and what country living means. It's special, and those moments are etched in your memory forever, whether it's a newborn fawn following its mother, or storm clouds rolling across the prairie.

On Sunday, during a brief lull in the storms, the sun made an appearance. I looked out the window toward the wooded area and saw a deer grazing in the hayfield below it. Then I spotted the fawn as it tried to peer above the tall grass. As it began to rain again, mother and fawn quickly headed back into the shelter of the woods.

It's comforting to know we are living in close harmony with them and she feels safe raising her fawn within a hundred feet of our house. We share this land together and it creates many country moments.

Tonight as darkness begins to envelop the land, I sit here writing and looking out our patio doors toward the wooded area beside the house. Lightning flashes light up the evening sky, and thunder rolls and rumbles for several seconds. The many shades of green in the trees and countryside are merging into a mass of black. Lights become visible in a neighbor's barn. Another day is settling in for the evening.

I think of the doe and fawn bedded down somewhere among the wet grass in the safety of the woods. The pheasants who live in there are also silent. I remember the scene from Walt Disney's animated film, Bambi, where the little fawn lies safely in a thicket as raindrops drip off the leaves and branches around him. I picture our little fawn lying on the wet grass and soil, snuggled warm and safe beside its mother. The soil, life, and weather have all combined to make another country moment, and I finally understand what country is.