And now, driving in 65 degrees fahrenheit, blue skies overhead, sunroofing, the thoughts of gratitude and blessings. Storms come and go, rivers find their way to the sea, as the paraphrases go. A farmer who fed millions, maybe billions, a man that made something from nothing through cultivation, irrigation, and technical innovation. Too icy to see the High Bridge, and no time to stop over in Madison County, either. It was 5 degrees fahrenheit last Friday morning, had to get back to Texas.
A time for work and a time for rest, a time to take and a time to bless. Evaluate, evaluate. A time for sugar and a time for wine, a time for bread and a time for rhymes. Evaluate, evaluate. A time to laugh and a time to cry, a time to live and a time to die.
Rivers freeze in Iowa in the winter, they ski off hills, best ribeye I've had in awhile. The wind is vicious, coming in heavy from the north country. Cold. They gather and pray, the church bells ring loud, faith alone up there, faith alone. Surely, heaven will look a little like Iowa.