Or this idiot, anyway.
It is a beautiful time of year in this part of the country. I’m driving south, heading for southern Missouri and a convergence of printmakers that begins Thursday.
Between college, work after college, and graduate school in Iowa and Nebraska I have probably spent all the time I need to spend living in this part of the country. Still, nothing beats a meandering road trip through these small towns, eating at cafes and rummaging through junk stores, admiring old buildings in varying states of disrepair or rescue, and not worrying about getting off on the wrong track a little.
Like today, when I lost Highway 63 south of Ottumwa, and found myself heading east instead (driving without geographical markers means you have to read the signs, Sara. .) Just as I was about to swing back and find the right road, I saw a sign for “American Gothic House,” and kept right on going in the wrong direction. When Grant Wood calls, you go.
They’ll even loan you a whole costume if you want, though I thought the pitchfork was sufficient.
More about art next time. There’s much afoot artwise, all good. Let’s just say that I’m trying hard to improve on my “working while traveling” skills.