Soaking Up Springtime Sunshine
Sunday ended up being true to its name here in Iowa for the first time in some 6 months or so. This left us and many others in a state of temporary euphoria and joy as it was suddenly pertinent to start thinking about being nude and out of doors without losing body parts once again. My family and I took off to Beed’s Lake State Park in Hampton (about 10 minutes from our house) for our daily walk since it was, as the French say, “le fucking gorgeous”. We got there, packed Keston up in his kickass offroad pram, and got started on our trot. As you can a see, we’re a very mobile family. (Apparently we are also very coordinated, as all of us were wearing a shade of blue, and the pram is blue, too. The lake and sky apparently got the memo but, like always, Mr. Grass had to be a non-conformist.)
Landa checks to see if Keston is ready to go on a long walk. Wheels? Check. Sun shade? Check. Baby? Check. Sense of adventure and danger? Well…
Mother Suggested, Kid Approved! He was sooooo tired by this point, desperately in need of a nap, but none was to be had as the park simply had too much to look at. C’est la vie, he’ll sleep later. Maybe. Ok, probably not, but he had fun.
The blue sheen of the top of the water belies the fertilizer and cow dung filled depths, but as long as you aren’t swimming in it, drinking it, or eating the fish that come out of it (don’t all bluegills have 3 eyes?), you’ll do just fine.
CDEDBD Wings? No. LIB! MR NOT DUX! (They’re geese. On zoom. Lots of zoom. And a long way away. I do not have a telescope on my camera, people. Sheesh.)
The dam at Beed’s Lake, which inspires from my middle school aged memory banks, “I went to the dam to fetch some dam water. The dam man said I couldn’t have any dam water, so I told him to keep his dam water. And I didn’t swear once.” This dam was built in the 30s by the CCC and is still fairly magnificent (despite the murky depths). I also took a video so you can hear the roar of the water, click here to experience the glory.
The entire thing starts with a tiny trickle, a drop in the pond, so to speak, yet again proving that if you contribute to the whole, you too may be shoved over the side and down a stone staircase.
Check out the detail on this baby! You can almost smell the protozoa.
As they say, it’s a long way down for a beer. Irish Spring? No! Iowa Spring!
Myself, looking either contemplative or amused, soaking up the rays with all the excitement of a retiree at the mall on free popcorn day.
My wife in her, “deep yet unassuming”, pose. Suspense. Passion. Deliverance. Calvin Klein.
After our long walk we stopped by my mother’s place where Grandma gave Keston his Easter basket. Frankly, there’s just nothing wrong with DUX! (said duck ended up being a very wet, slobbery duck after awhile, but hey…he’s just a little down in the mouth.)
And the ultimate compliment to the chef for a day’s outing well done — a tuckered out and sleepy baby boy. Our work here is done. 
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