an Iowa love story

 See that pretty young lady on the far right?

 That's Mathilda.  That's my Mom.

I  treasure the stories of my mother's youth.

In Iowa, we heard new old stories about first dates and pick-up lines.
 Sunday nights after church was courting time.

If you were the courting kind,
you took long walks around the main drag.
If you took long walks around the main drag,
you just might have caught someone's eye.
If you caught someone's eye,
you might have caught a ride,
and later...
you might have caught their heart.

Sounds a little dangerous to me,
but it worked like a charm for some of these folks. 

Oh, it was good stuff, I tell ya.
Good old fashioned Iowa love stories.

~ ~ ~

There is something extra special about these aunts and uncles.

Seeing them and being there reminds me of what it must be like
to go home and be loved.

 I never got the chance to "go home."
Home was packed up and sold when Mom and Dad died.
I had to move away, before I was ready to say goodbye.

My husband never knew my parents.
My children never will, at least not in this lifetime.
Very few of my friends do.

That's what makes going to Iowa so special..

They are more than just aunts and uncles to me.

They are Mathilda's brothers and sisters.


 (Mom and brothers at the piano, years ago)

They love her like I do.

They miss her like I do.

They are the ones
whose faces light up when they see you,
like they're seeing so much more.


When I see them, I see her.


And I think maybe for them, seeing us "kids" is like seeing Mom and Dad.

There are not necessarily many words expressed when we are together. 

We are the quiet type. 

But my heart hears much more-- 

the unspoken words well up as tears in our eyes.

As we were leaving and saying our goodbyes,
Uncle Clarence said to me,

"You sure do look like your mother."

I think we all do.

I'll treasure those few simple words for the rest of my life.

~ ~ ~

I think I could write an Iowa love story.

 Because here is where I find the kind of love 

that just cannot be found in any other faces or embraces,

but for the ones who knew Mathilda and loved her best.

I have never lived in Iowa, but it sure feels like home.
 

I miss Iowa

I do believe I have jet lag, 

or van lag, 

or whatever you want to call it. 

What day is it anyways?

I'm tired.

I miss Iowa.

I miss the pretty.

 

I miss the places.

 

I miss the people.

I miss the fun.

This is where the Iowa magic began-- on my cousin's farm. 

 My gracious cousin, and her husband, 
made room for 5 extra adults in the house, plus Josie.  
(Better hospitality than a five star hotel anyday.)

By the way, we now know that Josie talks in her sleep, cries in her sleep,
sits up in her sleep, smacks her lips in her sleep,
and grinds her teeth in her sleep.  

(Not good for the sleeping.)

The other 13 cousins had a camp-o-rama in tents...

...where they stayed up late
and the boys sang songs for the girls.

We all helped with the chores.  

Okay, that's just not true. 

I'm sure we were a huge distraction for the chores--us and our cameras everywhere.  

But I did walk a calf for about two minutes! Does that count?

  Gabby walked him too, because we are brave like that. 

 "niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice cowie!"

And does kitten petting count for chores?  

Because the kids put in a lot of kitten petting hours.

  How about goat petting? 

Jacob in particular seems to have a way with goats.

Oh! What about running the dogs?  

Soccer with the dog?

Catch with the dog? 

  
Fetch with the dog?

"Goooooooooooooooood doggie!"

Now drop the pinecone.

We sat outside and ate Lynnette's farm fresh food:

 Strawberries, picked on the farm. 

Lettuce, fresh from the garden. 
Iowa corn, frozen from last years harvest. 

Eggs, from the hen house. 

 And the beef.  Nothing beats the beef.  

Except for maybe the homemade ice cream
made with the home grown strawberries
and the home grown eggs.
And let's not forget about this piece of almond bliss.

There is just so much more I could say, so many pictures to share.

I really don't know how to end.

I really don't want it to end.
 

Soooooooo........

there's one more fellow I will to tell you about.

"BRUNO"

No, not my brother,

the steer.

 You better believe it!

He's fo realz.

Well, he was real. 
Now he's stuffed and displayed in my Uncle's new barn/museum.

Bruno was a living breathing gigantic 7 foot tall, 15 foot long, 3440 lb.,
horned white steer that scared the ba-jee-bees out of me
when he was alive on the farm 

and I was only 4 feet tall.

But now we are all bigger and braver
and we take pictures of our children with him
like the fabulous tourist attraction that he is.

Good times, good times.
How I wish I could just pick up and go back any old time.
Seems I've been a little blue since we've been home.

I miss Iowa.

Looks like we all miss Iowa.

Hanna took 95% of these pictures.  If it's pretty, or cool, or perfect, it's hers.  Thank you, Hanna!