June 9: Into Iowa

Yesterday I crossed the Missouri River into Iowa and stayed at a candy store next to a police station. I started to write this post, but ended up eating candied popcorn while glued to live feeds from the anti-ICE riot in LA and flashing back to the ’60s. 

I spent two nights in Nebraska City, thrilled to get there in time for their town wide tag sale. I went to several Friday and another handful in the rain on Saturday morning. Goodies I got included candles, note cards, and, goddess help me, more shells. 

While I intended to write about the exhibits at the Lewis & Clark Center and my hours enjoying the trees at The Morton family’s home, now a state park and arboretum (It was J. Sterling Morton who proposed the idea of Arbor Day first celebrated in Nebraska in 1872 by planting more than a million trees; his son, Joy, founded the Morton Salt company) I am anxious to plot a route for today and figure out where I will stay the day after tomorrow.  

Karmalita is stalling again, infrequently at stop signs, but still troublesome; I’m waiting to hear back from the Colorado shop that did the work. I also found out, by way of an x-ray at a walk-in clinic, the reason my toe still hurts after smashed it against a rock at the hot springs is because I broke it. Not much I can do now that a month has gone by. 

(I posted a string of photos from the past several days on Facebook.)