May 16, 1972 - Putt-Putt'ed

We put-putt'ed our way home from St. Louis today - or least from Iowa City where Doug and I spent last night. The trip down & the trip home, even with our valve trouble, were precious & full of wonder while the time with Mother was terrible. I was a nervous wreck, biting my lip, chewing the lipstick from my lower lip, my stomach and lower intestinal tract were constantly tense and tight, my head was every minute in danger of exploding, it felt so full & actually extended & larger than life. But the drive home, oh, the drive home was the absolute opposite - was peace & beauty and full of marvels! Being able to see like that for miles in every direction is like letting my spirit out of a box.

There is a roadside park north of Vinton, Ia., we stopped these last years & purposefully stopped there again this year. The gravel parking area is backed by a biffy, on the left is a small grassy cemetery & on the right is, was today, a small park of lush, long, thick grass & dandelions, a small flowering tree, a sheltered picnic table and the stony remains of an old church's foundations. We spoke to the flannel-shirted overhall'd, straw-hatted, grey-haired Iowan there & asked him if he were the same fellow who was cutting the grass there last year this time. He was not - he was helping the regular fellow & he showed us the special mower they use to allow them to cut up next to the stones, with some satisfaction, and the newly dry rectangle where at 1:00 pm another soul would be laid to rest.