Iowa and Beyond

I spent time in Iowa for the first time in my life yesterday.  To be precise, I spent somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes there.  That girl and I managed to drive through the bottom corner of Iowa where it adjoins both Kansas and Nebraska.

The bottom corner of Iowa is not particularly scenic or memorable in any manner.

Farmland for the most part.

Notably, however, we bridged-over the Missouri River one more time where it defines the border between Iowa and Nebraska.

For the rest of our drive, which ultimately landed us in Morrill, Nebraska, the landscape around us gradually shed trees and yielded to grass and tilled earth.  The sky expanded.  Clouds tore themselves apart, then began to billow higher.

We whisked by the world headquarters for Cabela’s in tiny Sidney, Nebraska.

In March of this year, some 700 employees were forced to leave Sidney or sever employment following a buyout of Cabela’s by Bass Pro.

The landscape changed more rapidly in the western half of Nebraska.  The flat to gently rolling terrain gave way to escarpments, weather-carved walls of stone, and shortgrass prairie.

I find these landscapes as handsome, though I suppose others may not.

I like a place where sky can jump from a cliff.

We ended a ten-hour drive in Merrill (at the very edge of Nebraska) and ate our supper in a shiny diner under sunset skies.

Today, we go for home.

--Mitchell Hegman

Good Dirt and Sapphires

After driving the last few gently rolling miles of Missouri, we glanced off downtown Kansas City and landed in Olathe, Kansas, U.S.A.

Here is the interesting thing.  I sent a box of dirt to Olathe by mail a few months ago.  A Christmas present, actually.  And not regular dirt.  We are talking pretty good dirt.  More precisely, gravel concentrate from a sapphire mine located on the shores of the same lake upon which I live.

My sister Brenda and family live in Olathe.  The sapphire gravel was a (somewhat unusual) gift for her grandchildren.

Yesterday, at midday, we stopped in to visit with Brenda and crew.  While we were there, we processed the gravel and gleaned a few gems from the concentrate.

Mostly, though, we were there to hear our voices mixing together.  For a good part of the day, we had the same sun shining on us.

This is why we cross the Missouri River along its wending course.  Just as we did once yesterday and once the day before.

--Mitchell Hegman

Crossing the Missouri River

Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois quickly fell through the rearview mirror of our car yesterday.

Hard rains struck near Columbus.  Well-tended farmer’s fields expanded and began to displace leafy trees in Indiana.  Green rows of corn marched against us in Illinois.  Thick traffic slowed us on the St Louis bypass.

As we crossed the muddy and rolling Missouri River, I said to that girl, “Think about that river.  It starts at your sister’s back door in Montana.  That’s something.”

That girl’s sister often takes her morning walks at the Missouri Headwaters near Three Forks, Montana; where the Gallatin River, the Jefferson River, and the Madison River twine together forming the Missouri among cottonwood trees and mountain backdrops.

Consider.  The Missouri River is the longest river in North America.  From the point where it merges with the Mississippi near St. Louis to its headwaters in Montana, the river twines through some 2341 miles varied, often rugged terrain.

Exploring the West by way of this river, The Lewis and Clark expedition departed from St Louis on May 14, 1804.  The expedition—pushing up the river itself—did not even reach the present day state of Montana until April 27, 1805.  This, after overwintering with Mandan Indians along the river in what is now present day North Dakota.  Some 2341 miles upriver, on July 17, 1805, the Corps of Discovery finally camped at the Headwaters of the Missouri.

I have crossed the Missouri River—quite literally—hundreds of times in Montana.  My “lake front” is actually the waters of the Missouri River having been backed up into the Prickly Pear Creek drainage by Hauser Dam a few miles downstream.

By land, I have crossed the river outside Montana less than a dozen times.

--Mitchell Hegman

Westward

Last night we sang our last goodnight nursery rhymes to Mackenna and drove rain-black highways from Akron to Medina. 

“Papa be right back?” asked Mackenna.

“Papa will be back,” I answered.

“Papa be right back?” she asked again.  Her big eyes fixed on me.

“Papa will be back,” I repeated.

Inside me, I felt yesterdays melting into tomorrows.  I felt stuffed animals nudging at my feet. 

This morning we are heading across the into-rain and after-rain Midwest.  We will tree our way, traffic our way, dark sky our way, and map our way west.  Back to the open lands.  Back to Mountains holding snow. Back to skies where clouds have room to tumble across.

On one hand: Mackenna.

On the other: the West, my home on this Earth.

This is not a perfect balance.

--Mitchell Hegman

Photographs from Mackenna’s Second Birthday Bash

Mackenna turned two yesterday!

--Mitchell Hegman

Hedgy and the Birthday Song

Hedgy the hedgehog could not remember any of the days before Princess Mackenna was born.  But, to be fair, Hedgy seldom remembered where his nose was.  And he sometimes said “hello” when he should say “goodbye.”  And sometimes he said “hello” and “goodbye” at once, just to be sure.

Hedgy sat all day and all night just outside the door of Kindly Castle.  In the early morning, small birds bounced in the grass all around Hedgy.  Yellow flowers grew tall in flower beds beside him.  Ducks sometimes waddled by, quacking. And, once, a momma deer left her baby all day right there in the flowers beside him.

But today, Hedgy remembered something.

He remembered his nose.

It was right there on his face.  Just below his eyes and just above his mouth.  He could not see his nose—not even if he crossed his eyes hard and looked down.  But he knew it was there because Princess Mackenna touched his nose and reminded him, “This is your nose,” each time she came and went from Kindly Castle.

Sometimes, Princess Mackenna played the head, shoulders, knees, and toes game with Hedgy.  She would touch his head, and then his shoulder, and then his knee, and then his toes, and say: “This is your head.  These are your shoulders.  These are your knees.  And these are your toes.”

And when she finished she always touched his nose and said “This is your nose.”

Today, Hedgy also remembered something special.  Today was Princess Mackenna’s birthday.

Hedgy had even made up a birthday song for Princess Mackenna.  The words to the song went like this: “Hello, hello.  Happy birthday Mackenna.  Happy birthday, to you!  Hello, hello.”

So, when Princess Mackenna opened the door and came outside from Kindly Castle, Hedgy got very excited and tried to sing his song.  “Hello or goodbye.  This is my birthday nose.  Happy birthday to you!”

Princess Mackenna touched Hedgy’s nose.  “Thank you,” she said.  “What a lovely birthday song.”

“But I sang it wrong,” Hedgy admitted.

“Happy birthday is never wrong,” said Princess Mackenna.  “And I am no longer one.  I am two.”

“Hello.  This is my happy birthday nose,” said Hedgy.  Happy birthday nose, to you!”

--Mitchell Hegman

One Day from Two

Apparently, nobody told Princess Mackenna she should be speaking in two or three word sentences at this point.  This point, specifically, for those of you not completely in the loop, is one day from her second birthday.

And about the two and three word sentence thing.

Princess Mackenna is speaking in full paragraphs.

She whizzed right through the two and three word sentences some time ago.  She sometimes tells elaborate stories.  Mind you, she often speaks so fast, it’s a bit hard to keep up.

I have been spending the last few days with Princess Mackenna.  We have been out walking among the mommy and daddy trees.  We have been putting stickers in books.  We smell flowers and blow on bugs.  We call Gentle, the dog, a “good boy.”  We feed the fish and ducks in the pond.  We play in the park.  We sing nursery rhymes.  Most importantly, we wave furiously and say “hi” to everyone we meet.

--Mitchell Hegman