Nebraska...The Good Life

In the beginning...

It's harder than it looks...

so I wasn't in the wagon this year...

I was okay with that.

He was so high up...

Three generations

This shot is too beautiful to be real

Grandpa Huwaldt and his boys

Nebraska Gothic... Oops, I am on the wrong side!

I will never look at my oatmeal at breakfast the same

God is good... All the time!

My weak arms were throbbing here.  Mr. Huwaldt wasn't even breaking a sweat!

Hitching it right for the ride to Pierce...

Next stop the Pierce Threshing Bee!

"Hey, Is this Heaven?" "No, it's Nebraska."

 

 

Bringing in the ...Oats!

      Each year, it seems that we return to Nebraska a little bit later in the summer.  The last couple of years, I have returned too late to participate in the annual tradition of bringing in the oats in order to prepare for the Pierce Threshing Bee.  But not this year.  No, Siree, Bob... The loading of the oat shocks was Tuesday night, but Tuesday was hot.  Darn hot,.  It was so darn hot, I wasn't sure what to expect.  In all honesty, I guess I should have expected what I have come to experience each August when we cross from Iowa into Nebraska and see the "Nebraska-  The Good Life" sign.  I feel a tremendous sense of peace, relief that our odyssey has come to an end for another year and a quiet kind of joy.  This peacefulness comes over me after I pass through Sioux City and head west on Highway 20.  People wave from passing cars as all of those old familiar sights and smells wash over me...  I look for the county 13 and 40 plates.  Nebraska is like "Cheers" in that way... it seems like everyone knows your name, story and vehicle.  Anyway, I felt that peacefulness last night lobbing those bundles.  There was a gentle breeze blowing, and the sky went on forever.  All the generations came and worked together sharing drinks, expertise, pitchforks, opinions and lots of laughter.  The sky and its setting sun cast a rainbow of light on the cool warmth of community.

       I wish I had a picture riding back to the parsonage with Mr. Huwaldt down those country gravel roads last night as he was telling me stories of what farming had been like through the years.  Although I didn't get in the wagons last night, I felt like I was on top of the world all the way home. Do you remember that part in Field of Dreams when Shoeless Joe Jackson was asking Ray where he was playing on that baseball field?  Shoeless Joe called out, "Hey, Is this Heaven?"

     Ray replied, "No, it's Iowa."  I don't know about you, but last night in the Gubbels' field west (?) of Coleridge, Nebraska did feel a little like Heaven.