Iowa

Most of my life has been spent in either Michigan or central Maryland, two areas of the country that have four seasons, a variety of evergreen and deciduous trees up and down each road, and houses made of wood, brick, or stone that are surrounded by more trees and green lawns (thankfully only infrequently decorated with lawn gnomes, gazing balls or wooden cutouts of the backsides of bending-over farm people. But I digress).

When I got to Iowa, I was immediately struck by its "homey" feel. While not as flat as the part of Michigan I'm from, the country corn fields feel familiar as do the trees and vegetation. After spending months in the southwest, what tickled my memory cells the most was the shocking greeness of the midwest. Every space that is not paved is green. Every lawn is green and most are mowed by now -- or announcing the owners procrastination tendencies by sprouting patches of tall clover. The lilacs are all but done, but iris and peony gardens are in full bloom. I've grown used to the main colors of the land being brown, beige, a little gold, a little sage, and tan. Just like mac and cheese is a comfort food, I've discovered that green is a comfort color.

Here's one of those peonies -- note the tiny drama about to take place between a jumping spider and an ant (click to enlarge):