Missouri Bound

In a few days I will be leaving the mountains of the west to head back to rolling Ozark hills to visit.
It's a good time of year to go. There Spring is already in full force. Past the tentative first flowers to a full out lush landscape. There is a green there the sandy soiled, high altitudes never achieve.
In Missouri they already have their mowers in use. The sweet, fresh-cut watermelon smell of freshly mowed grass has always been one of my favorites.
I will see my mother, sisters, and old friends. It's a time to catch up on gossip and laughter. Renew bonds.
The only one who will not be happy about this trip is my dog. He doesn't get to go. Right now he snores at my feet in blissful ignorance. But he knows what the suitcase means and hates when it comes out.
My sons will shower attention on him while I'm gone, yet, he'll still manage to make me feel guilty upon my return. He'll turn his head away when I first greet him. Pout and ignore me for hours but his heart is so big, I know I'll be forgiven at dinner time.