It’s hard to describe the beauty of the rolling hills covered in hundreds of hues of green that smell of freshly cut grass and sweetcorn here in Iowa.
I wasn’t able to snap photos of every piece of scenery but heading from the freeway the asphalt gives way to limestone concrete that covers dusty yellow byways. It contrasts against the bright blue sky and puffed-up marshmallow clouds. Black and white dairy cows are like polka dots in the grass as silos and apple-red barns break up the smooth, continuous landscape. The horizon isn’t flat with earth mirroring the sky in two lines on top of each other. It rises up and down, leans and curves around overflowing rivers.
This is the Iowa that I have been introduced to through the eyes of my husband, and it’s absolutely beautiful.