Greenness.

Assaulted! Battered! Assailed!

The volume and intensity of the green cornfields would not leave me alone; it was ‘peak chlorophyll.’ Thankfully, green is a kind color — a peaceful color, a therapeutic color that gave my eyes a much-needed rest from months in the orange-red sandstones of southeastern Utah. I found it difficult to shake the sensation that I was being ambushed by a hue, however.

I'm 5'6" and dwarfed by the cornstalks! And will you look at the size of these leaves?!? Copious rainfall is paying dividends.

When I got out at my Nebraska sleep spot, another sensation ambushed me: the air was almost too thick to breathe. I wondered if I might drown in the 80% humidity, after living in 12% for four months. The molecules of air stuck in my bronchi. The atmosphere glued itself to my skin and did not let go.

Thus began my re-entry into The Midwest. Having grown up and dwelt here for most of my life, its familiarity is comforting after the extreme desert conditions I’ve chosen to live in for several seasons. Mid-continent birdsong and fauna and flora and breezes and aromas are all embedded in my brain from my earliest days. It defines ‘home.’

For me, it’s a two-week replenishment stop before heading back to the harsh Southwest. Here’s a shout-out to the color Green.