Northern Indiana – near Shipshewana

I usually complain about this state, this Indiana, this legendless state. And yet today . . . well, today was a perfect day if you are talking in terms of weather. It was an “And what is so rare as a day in June; then, if ever, come perfect days” day. Thank you, Mrs. Bitner and sophomore English. These are the days I think I was born to – if these days had nurtured my soul, surely I would have been a less surly person. I absolutely love days in the 70’s, low humidity and blue sky. Maybe my ancestors came here on such a day as this and thought, “Oh, there will be another one . . . if we just have faith and wait long enough.”

My father was born within a stone’s throw (kinda) of the Banks of the Wabash. One lady told me I have more cousins in Washington County, Indiana then I could shake a stick at. I know I am related to a lot of the people in the ground there. And, to a lot of people buried up here as well. I am, ahem, rooted to this state. When I first got to California, I should have bent over and nailed my feet to the ground.

This is so not cool of me. Indiana gave me a great day and do I say thanks? I do not. I think, oh, wow, it will be forever before another one comes in this state.

This would be a rant . . . would it not?