The corn fields and soybean fields have been harvested. Now there’s just large swaths of bare ground as far as the eye can see. I never considered this before, but farm kids must have some of the greatest hide and seek games of all time. I hope that snowmen and snow forts come to dominate the landscape in December.
It’s getting dark sooner, too. If you have an office job, it’s getting where you can go in at the crack of dawn and see one or two rays, then leave the office and be in utter darkness, with just a hint of sun slipping behind the horizon. You have to be fast if you want to get some daylight in the winter.
No one around here is looking forward to the winter. Absolutely no one. In Cresco, people speak of winter’s arrival like the Poles spoke of the arrival of the Third Reich. Sometimes I wonder why Cresco isn’t a ghost town.
The weather getting colder hasn’t done a thing to decrease the ever-present smell of crap in the air. It’s getting so I can tell where I am between the office and Cresco by the kind of crap I smell. By the office, you smell horse crap. A couple miles in, you smell pig crap. For about a mile, you have the relief of smelling cow crap, but then it’s back to pig crap until you reach the town limit and you smell cow crap again. This new ability bothers me to no end.
Deer are active during this season, too. From October to May, I drive a little more cautiously and I try not to speed. This means I get passed by horse and buggies, who are of course going ten over the speed limit.
There is an Iowa State Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in northeast Iowa. Also, Iowa has rock and roll bands.
Did I mention I can tell where I am on my commute home by the type of crap I smell? Also, I can now differentiate between different types of manure. I don’t know how I got this ability. I didn’t ask anyone. I just took a whiff of what I had formerly presumed to be fresh air, gagged a bit, and realized that only a pig could put out that kind of putrescent scent.
More and more people are showing up at the Cresco Fitness Center. During the summer, the place is almost deserted. When the winter comes, though, people flock to the place, even before the “January Joiners” club makes its appearance. I think that says something good about the entire town.
Seriously, I can tell where I am in my work commute by the smell of the manure. Other people get to tell where they are in their commute by how many Starbucks restaurants they’ve passed.
I have a lot of books. As in it’s a burgeoning library. I think this is one of the best parts of being me.
I also think I’m prone to clutter. I keep trying to sort it out, but the clutter keeps growing. I feel as though I’m waging a single-handed war against entropy.
Spiced cider is easily as good a winter drink as hot chocolate.
Seriously, my sense of smell is usually pretty bad because my nose is constantly stuffed up. So how the frick can I tell the difference between animal crap during my commute? For the love of God, why?
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