The past two days

This morning, when we looked at the local map of Council Bluffs, Iowa, we realized we were staying in place of great significance; the town's unofficial mascot is the black squirrel. A city ordinance decrees it illegal to "annoy, worry, maim, injure, or kill a black squirrel." Ashley, we hope you make every effort to avoid the metropolitan Omaha area, especially in the shadow of the riverboat casinos, where we unwittingly stayed.

Nobody's particularly interested in what we've been ingesting, but you should be. After too many days of Taco Bell, we've stumbled upon some amazing meals lately.

The first noteworthy brunch transpired at the Silver Grill in Ft. Collins, CO. I had a frothy chai latte that went surprisingly well with a local favorite -- grilled trout (from the Big Thompson River) and potatoes. Instead of the usual wheat toast, I had a sliced cinnamon bun, griddle-toasted and paw-sized, as you can see.



It was one of the best breakfasts we've ever had. Meg's huevos rancheros weren't too shabby, either. We thought of my mom the whole time, both for her beloved Trail Ridge Road and her affinity for cinnamon buns. Best. Cinnamon. Buns. Ever!

Leaving Ft. Collins, we realized that we were headed out of the beautiful part of the Mountain West. The remainder of the day in Nebraska confirmed this. It was l.o.n.g. and flat. And very boring.

Dawn always follows the darkest night, however, and for us the orb of phoebus went by the name of Iowa. I cannot tell you how great it was to find myself in a place where the rest stops had free wireless internet and exhorted the virtues of "Good farming, Clear Thinking, Right living." Additionally, there were trees and rivers and flowers and grasses. How much we'd taken for granted thinking the desert was the place for us!

"It's a beautiful day!" (Those are rolling fields of hybridized corn and soybeans beyond the modern and clean rest stop honoring Henry Wallace, the great Iowan agriculturist.)



Ever the fans of local history, we stopped at a living historical farm that demonstrated what life has been like for the Iowa farmer in a variety of ages, from before the arrival of the white devil through to the advent of genetically modified organisms. The information was nice, as were the shady spaces and cool breezes, but the best part was hitching a ride on a tractor. Vrrroooomm!

One of the most pleasant moments was when we observed a table layed for an afternoon supper by a European settler to the Iowa frontier:



The vibe was simple, quiet, pleasant.

With its focus on agrarianism as well as science and technology, Iowa stood out to me as having the cultural and practical advantages of modernity without the anomie and alienation that went along with industrialization and population density in urban centers. In other words, a nice balance of applied intelligence and positive human relations...people working with each other and their environment rather than denying or neglecting their interdependence (aka the hero to Biosphere 2's villian). Plus, the people are nice!

This glorification of the midwestern American farmer reached its apotheosis at The Machine Shed, a wonderful theme restaurant "honoring the American farmer." I was beside myself with pontifications regarding the importance of experiencing the good earth as giving and benevolent, and one's neighbors as decent and sincere. All while fueling myself with fried catfish, mashed potatoes, corn, and cole slaw, and drinking water from a Ball jar.

I contemplated taking up residence in the joint, but decided against it when the peach pie proved to be a mild disappointment.

A couple of strangers who had been married for 42 years offered to take a picture of us. (Note the ratio of tractor to human.)



The grandpa consoled us by saying that only the first 40 years of marriage are hard...(yuk yuk!)

We caught the sunset at the border, shining golden over the (not very muddy, but indeed grand) Mississippi:



We crossed the river and returned to the state of mind that is the East. Though we have yet to penetrate the bubble of Chi-town, its hip-hop broadcasts and ads for Dunkin' Donuts and Sikh-owned car washes have invaded our consciousness. It won't be long before our bodies catch up, and overtake... Tomorrow, the remainder of Illinois (we're in Ottawa tonight), and further onward to Ohio, the Buckeye state.