For all the complaints about Nebraska, it gave up a breathtaking sunrise this morning. I took a picture, so that everyone could see that Nebraska wasn’t a total bust , that it had a charm or two that it kept from view. Just a glimpse here and there. It took a long time to cross.
I encountered the great river, south of 80, at LeClaire. The water is wide. I skipped the mayhem of all the dogs and just took Dorey. She promptly charged into the river, thinking the surface of lilypads and floating flora was firm ground. It was kinda smelly but the water was flowing under the docks like a sharp tide. A flock of storks flew by, but they surprised me and I missed them with my camera. Who knew they had storks here, supplying babies to the childless of Davenport? Their flight was a graceful one, arching over the river and settling on a floating thing, mid river. The traffic on the I80 bridge was east west, but every notion, every sentiment, of this spot, looked south, like Dorey.
Chicago was passed in the dark. My home is calling out to me.