Whether the Missouri route or the Arkansas route, it is a long drive back to Oklahoma from Tennessee. The first few hours down the music highway or along the Kentucky byways are pretty enough, but cross the Mississippi and the simplest route on budgeted time is the interstate. Hours on end and the scenery blurs together, especially when you’ve been driving since shortly after one in the morning and exhaustion kicked in with the bright glare of the morning sun.    Alternate drivers, push through, make lists for projects waiting at the house, sing along with radio, admire the Bostons on the horizon, almost to the state line. A few hours later and home, all draped in bright spring green, everything budded and bloomed, shimmering virescence has shrugged off the last signs of winter in our week long absence. Strange how quickly things can change, how when you aren’t looking the next season marches in leaving no trace of what was beginning to seem permanent. Just days ago we left blistering winds, drought dried air, and …