Today was, indeed, a football day in all its Midwestern glory. Bright sunshine in a virtually cloudless sky teased the sweatshirt off my daughter's shoulders by the second quarter of this morning's high school game. The wind set the cornfields whispering along our drive home. This phenomenon of brown corn standing in the field for weeks puzzled me at first after years among the sweet corn fields in New England. By now, I have begun to tell the passing seasons by the height and color of the corn.
On my husband's insistence, I donned helmet and jacket this afternoon with the promise to take the motorcycle for a long ride while he cleaned the house. (How could I not acquiesce to such a demand?) For two hours I rode past fields and silos, sleepy towns and peaceful cemeteries. With the roar of the bike to keep the world at bay, I let my thoughts wander and relaxed into the rhythm of the back roads. Chilled by the wind, I returned home to my first hot chocolate of the season, a hot bath, and a book. Hooray for football weather!