The Love of Place

Yesterday, I believe I fell in love with Iowa.

This was an interesting experience for me, because, until yesterday, I kind of thought of myself as a one-geographical-love kind of girl. I love the desert. Period. I always have, I always will. I told my sister years ago that if I die suddenly I want her to take her horse, Jak, out on my favorite trail, my ashes in some sort of recyclable container, and tell him to do his favorite thing - run. When he's running, take the lid off the container, and let me blow away in the wind.

I've lived in Iowa for years now, and though I have learned to like it quite a bit here, I've never exactly felt my heart would break if I had to leave, forever.

But yesterday I took Steen out for a light ride. We walked along, just the two of us, between a corn-field and a pasture dotted with horses. The leaves are just starting to change and the light was soft and warm on everything. Steen was relaxed, I was relaxed. The breeze was cool on my face but my core warm inside by dirty orange barn-vest. And then it hit me - the thought, "I love this."

It is hard to imagine two more disparate tableau's than Arizona and Iowa, but as I rode and took in the scene yesterday, I found my adoration for white sand, barbed thorns, and crinkly underbrush moving over to make room for rolling hills, the rustle of wind in corn, and the soft thud of horse-hooves on grass.