Heading east
It was a great week in Colorado, but time to head back east. As picturesque and three-dimensional as the western 60% of Colorado is, the eastern 40% isn't. Why the borders of Kansas and Nebraska end where they do is anybody's guess, but another 150 miles west would have made a lot of sense, topographically speaking:
You wouldn't believe this is Colorado, but it is, about 60,000 square miles of it.
As you cross the plains, you see lots of these feed pens full of (mostly) black angus. If the weather's warm, keep your windows closed as you pass.
A couple of million quarter-pounders out there. The cheese comes from Wisconsin.
Another common sight this time of year; baled cornstalks, a relatively new technology. They're a lot bigger than they look; placed two bales wide on a flatbed truck makes a wide load.
Corn residue bales by the thousands.
When we reached the sand hills of north central Nebraska we knew we were close to seeing some dear friends. It is an area unlike any other in the plains, the grassy dunes of the Great Inland Sea where hard working folks raise beef and corn with little help from the land. Our gustatory recommendation of the day: the 3-pork sandwich at the Bonfire Grill & Pub at the Arrow Hotel in Broken Bow. Delicious!
The Sand Hills of Nebraska. The three dimensions are a welcome change for a New Englander.
Wild and crazy long haired Chihuahua Chick-a-Linda welcomed Mary F. back to Nebraska:
Chick-a-Linda and friend.
Our friends, the Bridgmans, whom Chick-a-Linda owns, made us feel like family at their lovely home in Ord. Cathy is a retired FEMA employee and current champion crafter--you name the craft, she does it in her huge new studio. Rex is a large animal veterinarian, who in this season is changing forever the lives of hundreds of young ladies of his acquaintance. Last evening on a ride through the countryside with the Bridgmans, and early this morning from the yard of their home, we watched several deer, including an eight-point buck this morning. It's the second day of deer hunting season in Nebraska, and we wish that handsome gentleman the power of invisibility.
A most enjoyable dinner with Cathy and Dr. Rex Bridgman.
Leaving Ord this morning, we wended our way from the Sand Hills down to Route 80, to Lincoln and Omaha and into Iowa. A gentle reminder to drive safely took the form of this truckload of caskets passing us:
"What's yer hurry?" we wanted to ask.
Hundreds of windmills dot central Iowa; so many you'd think Iowans wouldn't want for power.
Just two of the many windmills along Route 80 in Iowa.
At last, we arrived in Des Moines, and settled in to a new Towne Place Suites, decidedly modern in decor:
Looks good enough to sleep in.
The work in area is bright and roomy. The guy in the photo isn't very bright, but he is roomy:
An old fashioned guy in a modern room with a timeless beer.
People have asked what Mary Frances does while I drive those thousands of miles. Well, here's a little item she put together during this trip:
Mary F. modeling Angelina's new sweater.
We always enjoy our trips across the prairies. Tomorrow gets a little more urban: Chicago.
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