I just returned from a long Memorial Day weekend trip to the boonies. Peterson, Iowa, to be specific, with stops there and back in the Omaha, Nebraska area (where the downtown Old Market historic district is incredibly reminiscent of Lodo about 15 years ago). There’s something incredibly soothing about watching the corn grow in the country. And we’re talking the country here, folks, complete with farms, barns, gravel roads, and teensy little towns with a grocery store, church, park, library, and the occassional Wal-Mart. It’s very calming and pretty in a pastoral, small-town Norman Rockwell sort of way. And after less than a week of this small-town Midwestern wholesomeness, I get really sick of the muddy cornfields, the swarms of mosquitos and biting flies, the humidity, and the rampant narrow-mindedness. Then I remember why I love Denver. It’s good to be home.