And Still More Corn...

And Still More Corn...

I normally write these blogs in my head as we’re traveling down the scenic highways and byways. After all, that is my job, to record the event for posterity, sitting from my perch on the back of the bike. Between the digital photographs and the pictures taken with my mind’s eye, I normally have more than enough material to wax poetic at the end of the day.

It’s already Wednesday night and I’m just getting around to writing Tuesday’s blog.  I crawled into bed at 7:45 last night, physically and mentally exhausted. It wasn’t long before I was asleep. And while I look longingly at the bed now, I know that if I don’t get my thoughts on paper (or computer) now, I’ll be up at 4:00 am.

The forecast called for more wind and precarious weather as we traipsed across Nebraska and on to Iowa, and for the third day in a row, we headed out in jackets and held our breath. I strapped on my Pollyanna helmet and tried to positively adjust my attitude, but the swirling wind and darkening skies made that difficult, if not impossible.

When Mother Nature decides to have a hissy fit, the best thing to do is duck and run. Unfortunately, when you’re driving through the middle of corn country, there’s nowhere to run and certainly nowhere to hide.

For two hours, and more miles than I care to know, we were pummeled by a ferocious and relentless wind, whipping mercilessly across the cornfields. I was amazed that the vintage and well-worn barns, with their remaining matchstick construction, were able to withstand the squalls. I know I was struggling just to keep my glasses and helmet on.

Even the birds, which normally soar above us with effortless grace, struggled to stay along their paths. Smaller species darted recklessly about; alighting on wires, fence posts and tree limbs, rather than continue to fight flight.

The first town we found was Creston. I assume it was a town there were no cornfields; it boasted a gas station (where we stopped), a few houses a stores or two and a Wal Mart. It took all of 4 blocks and five minutes to be back on the open road, but now, the undulating landscape offered smooth waves of green and clusters of trees sprung sporadically across the horizon. Soon, they gave way to hills, and trees in greater concentration. It was amazing how that natural screen reduced the wind and improved my attitude.

My happiness was short lived.

As the hills deflated and the trees disappeared, so did my smile. The wind was back in high gear, with renewed ferocity.  My nostalgic, romanticized reverence  for farms, fields and cows was waning. We took refuge in a Harley dealership, and I bought a long sleeved shirt, just in case.

Luckily, the hills returned and the wind didn’t, and while the rest of the ride wasn’t stellar, at least we had some weather stability.  

So, I don't have a lot of material for this entry. I’ll have to go back to the pictures, which weren’t many, to describe what we saw, which wasn’t much. But, let me qualify that remark. The countryside was beautiful, but it’s difficult to take pictures when the wind is angrily trying to rip the camera from your hands. And it’s difficult to see when your eyes are squeezed shut and your head is bent, bracing against the wind.

And now it’s bedtime, Scarlett, for tomorrow is another day.