Iowa

It was beginning to seem we were bewitched. Three times we tried to leave St. Louis. A trip in June to Virginia to visit my daughter had to be scuttled. A trip in July to visit my Dad and Sister in Michigan had to be canceled.  At the end of August plans to visit a friend I'd never met in Minnesota fell a part the very morning we were scheduled to leave. It was tempting to just surrender and stay put until another year, but we decided to make one last try. It worked! Finally we were able to break free and we headed north.

Day one of our trip took us through Iowa. For me Iowa, at least the part of Iowa we drove through, was all about the process of looking, rather than about sight seeing  I'm getting much better at looking since I began to ride scooters. No radio or CD going as we drove north. There is nothing wrong with either, but for me they nurture a passivity in my watching. Iowa calls for active looking. The route we chose wasn't a route for sight seeing but for looking, for catching glimpses of the life going on as we passed by. Sight seeing is about going somewhere to see something special. On the road we took there wasn't anything special to see, but there was plenty to look at if one was open to the land. It would have been easy to see nothing but corn, to endure Iowa as we made our progress to Minnesota and our real adventure.

Corn.

And, more corn.

But then a curiosity. Was it really necessary to warn about smoking? Or, was there some wry humor at play here.

Heather says Iowa is all about Corn.

For me it was about clouds . . .

And moving houses . . .

And, yes, about corn . . .

Even if this water tower was in Minnesota.

And Heaven Knows

It rained today and I rode to Church anyway.

After Church a number of folk came up to me and said something akin to: At least it stop raining for you to ride home. Truth was because of the rain I'd stretched my usual forty minute ride to Church into an hour and a half.

Billie waiting patiently for my return.

Today was a perfect day to ride in the rain. There was no wind. There was no thunder or lightning. And, it was a warm steady and persistent rain.

After Church, I went for even a longer ride. I hadn't planned to, but you see it began to rain again. It had warmed up enough that I stopped and replaced my Aerostich lobster claws with a pair of old leather mesh gloves. I've found that this helps keep me from melting inside my rain gear. So, I rode for another two and a half  hours . . . in the rain.

Since Billie and I take the streets little traveled there aren't ever a lot of crazies out in the rain and even fewer on Sunday.

What is it I like so much about riding in the rain? I think for me it is the silence. There is a stillness that settles in around me on days like today. It has its own character. It isn't like the silence that seems to gobble and mute noise that comes with snow. No, the rain silence is more of an including silence, a symphonic silence. It is like a rest in the midst of a measure. There is an anticipation in the rain silence. It is a fragile and elusive silence.

I admit to having a little envy of those folks with sidecar rigs who can ride into the snow silence. I've ridden in the snow when conditions have been right, but those moments are very rare. I'd like to explore this silence of the snow more, but for now I will be happy mapping the silence resting in the midst of the rain.

There is a going with the flow when it rains. And, possibly because traction is a little compromised an increase in my sense of alertness.

Oh well, then again, perhaps my love of riding in the rain goes back to being raised on a farm. When it rained we didn't work. I liked rainy days then, and heaven knows I still do.

Another Day of Triple Digit Temperatures.

Besides not tempting the road rash gods a good thing about wearing gear when riding in this weather is all the women who tell me I look hot.

It's so hot here that even the spider webs are "shimmering."