“It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” ― Maud Hart Lovelace
I know… Nebraska. Of all the places, who would have thought I would fall for a random ass state in the middle of the country — a state so obsessed with corn that they made it their college football team’s mascot?
Not me. But it happened.
We were only in this glorious state for a few hours — just enough time to take a million photos with the welcome sign, see the world famous Carhenge (get it?), and lose
our my mind over the fact that Nebraska was so damn shockingly beautiful.
I don’t think Amy was nearly as impressed with the Cornhusker State as I was, but she also regularly plays chess and colors in coloring books. What can I say. The chick’s kinda off.
The rolling hills, sporadic farm equipment, billowing American flags, the golden hour sunlight touching the green green green fields that went on for as far as the eye could see… it was all so entrancing. Admittedly, I can over-romanticize places and tend to walk around with rose-colored glasses when I’m experiencing something new — in a realist’s eyes, driving through Nebraska might be nothing but hundreds of miles of cornfields and small towns. In fact, I spoke with someone recently who said he had driven across Nebraska in January on his way from Colorado to Pennsylvania, and it had been so cold and gray and dull they couldn’t bear to step outside of their car for more than a few seconds. But I couldn’t help but drive through those small towns and imagine the residents see their home through those same rose-colored glasses, too — that they gossip in the little local grocery store, that neighbors help neighbors, that they’re proud of their sweet little Midwestern roots. It was all so pretty and American.
Eventually we made our way to the gravely, muddy back roads of Alliance, what I imagine is a classic example of small-town America. We were on our way to the quirky roadside attraction that is Carhenge, a replica of England’s mysterious Stonehenge made completely out of old, spray-painted cars and car parts. How could we drive through the northwestern corner of Nebraska without stopping at Carhenge? It would have been a sin.
“To lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”
― John Lubbock
Our time in Nebraska was short but sweet. It was golden and fresh. Sometimes it just feels good to be somewhere totally out of your comfort zone, somewhere remote and blank and open and unspoiled. The sky and roads and fields in Nebraska seemed to go on forever, the experience of being there was soothing and refreshing, and though this may be a sentence that is not frequently spoken by many people around the world… I truly can’t wait to go back to Nebraska.
Which photo from Nebraska is your favorite?