Lake Rathbun, Iowa, was the perfect place to recuperate from bruises. There was no one else around besides the kindly campground hosts, a few fishermen in row boats contemplating infinity (isn't that what fishermen do?), birds, more butterflies, and a pale green praying mantis who perched on my head one morning. The sunrises, sunsets, and stars were remarkable, and the weather just about perfect. There were even hot showers - and I mean HOT! One had to keep moving to avoid scalds. The lake was built and is managed by The Army Corps of Engineers, and I really appreciated being there.
Iowa lingers in my memory as more miles of corn and beans, good scents along the way (goldenrod?, asters?, corn?), the first earth-sheltered houses I had seen on the trip, (if I were going to build a house, I would certainly consider earth-sheltered), and two cities that hinted that I "... wasn't in Kansas OR Iowa any more".
Pella, Iowa looks like it came straight from Holland. Even the car wash looks Dutch. There were flowers everywhere, no litter anywhere, and signs with interesting things to eat. Lunch was a superb sausage/vegetable soup and a Dutch Letter, a pastry in the shape of an elongated "S" shape, and, for afternoon tea, a Dutch Pillow or Handkerchief (yet another pastry). There is a huge windmill, wonderful figures that perform every two hours in concert with the town clock, and an amazing Dutch Miniature Village on the second floor of the windmill. In the Spring Pella hosts a tulip festival, and that would definitely be a sight to see!
Not too many miles North of Pella is the city of Elkhorn, also boasting a windmill, but this time from Denmark. They also have a reconstructed tenth century Smithy's hut, built of logs,with grass and small flowers growing on the roof, and a copy of the statue of the Little Mermaid in the Town Park. It was fairly obvious that these cities represented pockets of Dutch and Danish folk who are proud of their ancestry, and are actively involved with preserving many of their distinctive ways of life. Of course I had to sample the Danish pastry, also.
One afternoon as I headed West, the dark clouds billowed overhead, but the horizon in front of us was brilliant with sun, and a wall of rain falling between us looked like a curtain of beads shimmering. By the time we reached the "curtain", it had evaporated, and we sailed through into the light. To celebrate, I stopped and ordered - shame! - a cheeseburger. At least I passed the fries by.
Another lake, a swoop of swallows, wild sunflower hedges along the road, three Canada geese in a "gefuffle" (as my mother used to call an altercation), and a heron with a voice like a rusty spring.
In Harlan I backed up to photograph a painting on a shed that was most likely an offshoot of the Barn Quilt Project. This effort was begun in Grundy County, Iowa, and was planned to refurbish barns more than 50 years old that were disappearing from the roadsides, tempt tourists onto the smaller highways, and engage townspeople - and especially youth- in something that celebrated a regional art (quilting). Much of the material and labor for the projects were volunteered, and 8' by8' quilt patterns were painted on the sides of barns. that had been repaired and repainted. This enthusiasm helped preserve many old barns, beautified the roadsides, and brought more visitors to towns bypassed by the big super highways. A win-win situation! The Barn Quilts have now spread to Illinois, Indiana, and Tennessee.
In Centerville, Iowa I found a wonderful library. It occupied an older, three-story-tall and elegant building, had a whole closet of books for sale (one of the joys of this trip has been the books encountered along the way), and, in the basement children's department, an old cast iron, claw-footed bathtub, lined with shag carpet, piled with colorful pillows, and the perfect cozy place for children to snuggle down and read. I was sorely tempted to try it out, but when I had finished buying the books, it was occupied by three giggling 5-year-olds. Oh well, another time.
"Experiencing the present purely is being emptied and hollow; you catch grace as a man fills his cup under a waterfall." Annie Dillard in "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek"
This may express why I am so immersed in the trip that I am slow in writing posts and letters.
A couple of new license plates:
"GAS HOWG" - on a huge RV
"ROSE PEDAL" - on a red PT Cruiser
Shalom.
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