Incoherent Scribblings

The Bridges (and Quilts) of Madison County

Hogback Bridge
Originally uploaded by blondelibrarian.

Last weekend was the annual Covered Bridge Festival in Madison County, Iowa. Now if you are thinking, “Hmm… it seems to me I have heard of these Madison County Bridges before,” you would be right. A few years ago (10 or so to be exact) there was a movie that starred Clint Eastwood and Meryl Steep entitled The Bridges of Madison County that you might (or might not) have seen. This movie was based on a book of the same name by Robert James Waller that you might (or might not) have read. (In case you were wondering, I have not seen the movie, but I have read book.)

Now, Madison County had this annual covered bridge festival long before the book or movie ever came out, but when the book was on the best-seller list and the movie was filmed on location (Clint and Meryl apparently even bought places to live in Madison County while they filmed), the festival became heavily commercialized and a huge tourist attraction… And in all my years in Iowa living less than 50 miles from Madison County, I had never attended the Madison County Covered Bridge Festival until last weekend.

On Saturday morning about 10:00 I stumbled downstairs in my blue and green IKEA robe to eat my morning bowl of oatmeal when Mom (who had been awake for a couple of hours) bounced into the kitchen and said, “Let’s got to Winterset today! They are having a quilt show as part of the Covered Bridge Festival.” I had planned a fulfilling day of nothing, but since Mom seemed so excited I decided I could take a shower after all and get my butt out of the house to see quilts and bridges. So I did and a little more than an hour later we were on the road.

With the exception of these covered bridges, the festival is a fairly typical small town festival. The town square was blocked off and full of craft and food vendors selling things at outrageous prices that for whatever reason you must buy and/or eat. And is tradition at these types of things, before we could see the bridges or quilts Mom and I had get our sugar rush by buying very crispy funnel cakes covered in powdered sugar. Once we could face the afternoon we purchased our tickets for the quilt show and covered bridge tour. And because we are always in such a rush to do things, we finally even managed to get the next to the last tickets for the last scheduled covered bridge tour of the day.

While we were waiting for the bridge tour, we went to the quilt show. I think this is the first quilt show I have ever attended and I was totally enamored by all of the beautiful quilts. Each quilt was displayed wonderfully with a little document next to it that not only had the quilter’s name on it, but a story about the quilt. Some were quilts that grandmothers had quilted for grandchildren, but the ones that I liked the best were the ones that had “history” to them: You know, the ones that someone puts together after inheriting grandma’s (or great-aunt’s or great-grandma’s) scrap bag. Someday I hope to piece together a quilt top (actually it is on my 1001 Days list) and this little quilt show really inspired me: I just wanted to rush home and start piecing away!

Finally it was time to load up on the school tour bus and go see the bridges. Our guide was a Madison County native so he gave us a lot of interesting history about the bridges and the surrounding area. As a librarian I was slightly offended that all of the interesting trivia bits he gave concerned the movie instead of the book, but sadly in this day and age I suppose it is likely that more people on the bus had seen the movie than had read the book. Six covered bridges remain in Madison County and all six are on the National Register of Historic Places: We saw four of them and got to get out and walk around on two of them.

It was a fun day and Mom and I considered going back the next day to see the parade, eat more funnel cakes, and finally try one of those pickles on a stick, but it rained and I had to work on Sunday night anyway.

A Snow Story

Snow Bike
Originally uploaded by blondelibrarian.

Coming from Iowa I am no stranger to snow storms or deep snow, but even if this was my bicycle I don’t think it would do me much good to ride it to the train station today.

Since yesterday the Munich area has received approximately 50 centimeters (or about 20 inches) of snow and all public transportation apart from the underground (aka subway) has stopped running. And according to the news, yesterday and today you could/can expect 20-80 kilometer traffic jams, delayed or canceled flights, and disrupted train traffic.

A spokesman for the traffic police in Bavaria warned that those who do not absolutely have to go somewhere should stay at home and so that is exactly what A. and I have done this weekend: We left the car in the garage, watched the chaos on TV, and have periodically gone outside to play in the snow.

However, as we were trudging through the snow this morning snickering at the poor souls who dug their cars out from under the snow only to get stuck in the drift that all their digging had created, I was reminded of how when I was a kid I would get so frustrated because my parents didn’t want to brave the roads during a snow storm.

I especially thought that my mom was a wimp because at the first sign of a slippery road she would hang up her coat and tell us if we thought we needed toilet paper that badly we should just walk ourselves the eight miles into to town and get it. Of course once I got old enough to drive and after I ended up sliding into a ditch or two myself, my whole attitude about driving in the snow completely changed.

Now, as a native Midwesterner I had no choice but to learn to drive in the snow and even though I have not lived in Iowa for nearly ten years, I can still drive in the snow… even if I have to drive an ancient rear-wheel drive car.

And as a result of that “confidence,” on the day that we got a slight dusting of snow when I was in Iowa a few weeks ago I decided that I just had to run some errands. Without much thought to the snow, the small hill that my mom’s house is on, or the retaining wall kitty-corner from her house, I jumped into my 1980 rear-wheel drive Chevy Malibu with its studded tires and stepped on the gas… And promptly slid around the corner and came face to face with the retaining wall.

But like the proverbial “bike riding,” as soon as I felt the slide I remembered exactly how to steer out of it… which is why instead of hitting that wall I stopped in front of it with about an inch and a half to spare!

The Week in Review

I have been back to the States for almost a week and even though it doesn’t seem like I have been that busy, I have barely had time to sit down long enough to write. But since I just know that all five of my readers are dying to know what I have been doing, here is a quick run-down:

Tuesday: I had a long, if uneventful, plane ride from Munich to Philadelphia. I then had about an hour and a half layover in Philly and by the time that I got through Immigration, re-checked my luggage, went through security for the fourth or fifth time, and caught a shuttle bus to my terminal, I would have just made it before boarding began.

However, the plane to Kansas City ended up being delayed for about an hour because we didn’t have a crew! I thought about offering to fly the plane, but since I don’t know how and I know they don’t take that sort of talk lightly anymore, I thought it might be wiser if I didn’t.

My mom, step-dad, and aunt met me at the airport and then I had an approximate three-hour car ride to Small Town, Iowa. By the time I made it to bed at 12:30 am Iowa time I had been up for a little over 24 hours. I actually got my second wind about that time and probably could have stayed up for a while, but I decided to go to bed and as soon as I hit the pillow I was out like a light!

Read the rest…

Mama, I’m Coming Home

Now, I will be the first to admit that in January and February Iowa isn’t the most inviting place in the world. What little tourist trade that my home state enjoys definitely does not come from the fact that in deep winter Iowa is cold: Damn cold. Minus five degrees Fahrenheit and three feet deep of snow cold.

However, late January is when my soon-to-be nephew has chosen to join this world, so January is when I will hop onto a plane and after more than three and a half years set foot on American soil again.

Yes, you read right: Break out the Ozzy CD, because… Mama, I’m coming home!