When I left the North – the ground was brown. There were still icy barriers of snow. And as I traveled south, things got greener. I traveled relatively slowly, like a good Plain woman, by bus and train. Buds, then leaves, then flowers. Dandelions gone to seed. And as I went west by Amtrak, and farther south, into the land where chicken fried steak is accompanied by country gravy, and jello is a side dish, the landscape became lush. Corn was pointing heavenward out of the fields.
I was out of famiilar territory, past the granite croppings of New England granite and maple trees unfurling little buntings of pale green.
Iowa is a robust place. It is full of robust people, enthusiastically driving and shopping and working.
There were adventures on the way for the black-bonneted goth-gone-Plain woman on a mission.