Back to the Sunflower

We were on the road shortly after 6 AM, driving East on I70 toward our ultimate destination in Saint Clair Missouri.  But with nearly 900 miles of driving and one state high point in between, we expected much to happen in the chewy middle of our drive.  We were not disappointed.  It was a gourmet day.

Was it uneventful first thing in the morning?  No.  We followed a night time rain, and the morning clouds were mixed, with rays of the sun bursting through like buckshot through a tin roof, making brighter green splotches on the Eastern Plains as they rolled alongside the ribbon of our highway.  This is the way to start a road trip - hope-filling sunshine and midsummer green prairies.

But duty intrudes.  Alex has just gotten her driver's permit, and we must practice.  We take Kansas exit 1 and pull over with the car pointing south on 3 Road.  It's her turn to drive and my turn to be terrified.  She has a total of an hour behind the wheel as we lurch onto the dirt road to the ever imposing Mount Sunflower. "Slow down. Speed up.  Stay away from the shoulder.  Stay out of the middle.  Slow down for limited sight distance and unsigned crossroads.  Don't hit the bird. Don't hit the jackrabbit. That is one huge jackrabbit."  I look down to check directions in our guidebook.  I look up we are doing 65.  What?!?  I look at the odometer.  I look up.  Veering right, then left.  Gulp.  She's doing better.

At last our turn for the Mount, and memories of six years ago flood in. My son is grown, my daughter is a beautiful, funny, intelligent, godly fifteen year old.  In between lie six years of the slice of American life for Turner: high school football, family vacations, fights, reconciliations, camps, laughter, tears, and ultimately, love and pride.

Like every high point I've visited, this is a place of unique beauty.  It is quiet.  Not a single motor can be heard: not a jet engine, car, tractor, not anything.  Just the breeze on the grass.  In the distance, the corrugated steel cone top of a huge silo lies in a field, blown there who knows when, and who knows where its orphaned cylinder stands.  No one has bothered to recover it.  It is lonely here.  We sign the guidebook, take photos, laugh, revel, and put the scene in the rear view.  We continue south to Weskan, Kansas, and east to Oakley.  The ribbon of the road rolls out before us, up and down, left and right, hidden and revealed.

Kansas changes from plains to forests and dry washes to creeks and even rivers.  Suddenly, Kansas City looms on its bluff, imposing and brash, and is gone behind.  The Wide Missouri River rolls under us near sunset, and again at dusk, the church spires of Washington, Missouri highlighted in the cool of the evening.  We power down the windows.  It is unseasonably cool for July, only in the 60s.  The night smells of cut grass and wood smoke please our nostrils.  The darkening greens of dusk our eyes.  The wind our skin.  We float around the curves of Missouri 47.  And then Siri tells us that we have arrived at our destination.

The Budget Lodging in Saint Clair!  An old style motor hotel with keys and views and a swimming pool in the parking lot.  The Bible is open to Proverbs 3:24:  "When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid; yea, thou shall lie down, and they sleep shall be sweet."