Yesterday morning at 5:17AM, umbrella in hand, I walked out the door of Frogside into a gray and rainy morning. My pack was packed, batteries charged, extra chip on hand, ditto the peanut butter sandwich and iron rations for the encounter with stingy United Airlines food “service”. Google said the 1.7 mile walk to the bus station would take thirty-four minutes. It took thirty-three, but I did not dally. Note to self: if dallying, allow ten to twenty percent more time.
The bus trip was…
For some reason, TSA has decided I am not a threat, and my boarding passes have come out stamped “pre” of late, which means I keep my shoes on, and this time did not even have to take my computer out of my pack. The line was short. After an hour and a half, the boarding process began, and with nary a sarcastic “baa” I found seat 35A. Lap belt on, tray table up, and seat belt on, off we taxied in the gray.
We had a brief glimpse of the Boston Harbor islands.
But as we headed for altitude, all outside became as cotton. I did not take pictures. A few hundred miles farther on, the sky directly above turned to blue and the enveloping cotton turned to gauze. I turned to the window.
Hmmm…could that be a Great Lake?
Then came one of the better views I’ve ever had of Niagara Falls.
Further on, a great lake shoreline and colorful water.
We passed over this very spot six weeks ago. The land was gray. The water was gray, and there was ice floating upon it.
There were highways to see.
We headed “left”, over the upper midwest.
I love looking below. Fields and forests, flats and valleys, homesteads and highways, all pattern this well-watered and fertile land.
It’s not all straight lines, squares, or rectangles.
There are circles. The first center-pivot indications appear.
I have no idea what goes on here. But it sure is interesting.
We steadily soar west.
Distances between towns becomes greater. Farms become larger. What’s a town without a little airstrip?
We are nearing the halfway point.
Time to get up and take a break. A stroll up and down the aisle would be nice.
We’ll continue in the next post…the land will get drier. Mountains will come.
Then California will arrive.