Food? Check.

Clothes? Check.

Linens? Check.

Toiletries? Check.

Jim and I were packed, loaded, hitched, and ready to hit the road with our fur-baby, Shotgun who loves to ride shotgun between us.

This lightweight, refurbished, new-to-us travel trailer perfectly suited our retirement dreams. No more searching for clean, reasonably-priced, pet-friendly hotels in unknown destinations. No more feasting on paper-wrapped burgers and greasy fries at 75 miles per hour. Jim always preferred staying in a trailer rather than a hotel when he worked on the road so he knew the ropes to the RV lifestyle. We were eager to enjoy the conveniences of home wherever we went. Our destination for this maiden voyage was my home state of Iowa to attend a grandparenting conference, visit some old haunts, and hug a few friends and family members.

We took our time because of a gusty crosswind and Jim cringed as he watched the mileage drop steadily on the dashboard. Perhaps this wasn’t the most economical alternative, but at least we would be comfortable in our own space once we reached our campground near Des Moines. Meanwhile, I enjoyed my front row seat to the scenery, framed only by the windshield.

The vast pastureland of the Flint Hills boasted green hues as evidence that the summer’s scorching heat was finally gone. Fall reawakens growth here in the heartland, even if only for a short time. Massive cottonwoods tower overhead, their leaves shimmer in the sunshine. A patient hawk rests atop a fencepost waiting for unsuspecting prey. Natural grasslands sway in the constant wind of our flyover state. Stubborn leaves dangle on the nearly nude branches, unwilling to become the carpet in this landscape of change, yet the crisp air whispers of chilly days ahead.

After driving a few hours, we stopped in an empty parking lot to enjoy our lunch. No more fast food. We’d have a sandwich and chips on paper plates in our cozy booth. Shotgun took a walk, sniffed every single blade of grass, then left his own scent for future visitors before we hit the road again.

Feathery plumes of grass sway in unison as if choreographed by the breeze. Overhead, the limbs of skeletal trees are swallowed up by invasive tendrils of red foliage. Orange vines are firmly attached to fences along the highway. Maples, brushed gently by the sun, seem to show off their vibrant shades of red. The majestic oaks remain green, yet unscathed by the winds of change. Their time will come. Even the scrub brush and cattails shout of changing seasons. These flashes of color excite me as they play peek-a-boo from deep in the wooded landscape.

No matter where I look, I am mesmerized by God’s masterpieces in every season. Our Creator continues to create beauty for those who take the time to notice.

Scattered on the hillsides of Southern Iowa are neatly-maintained farmhouses, barns, and whitewashed fences along dusty limestone roads. Cattle. Windmills. Horses. Grain bins. And creep feeders. (Go ahead, Google it if you don’t know what a creep feeder is!) Even the corn fields offer an optical illusion at 75 mph. They hint at the approaching harvest for these hard-working farmers.

Unexpectedly, my eyes are drawn from nature to a rusty old relic – a pickup, weathered by the summer sun and harsh winters, forever parked at the edge of a creek that meanders through the trees. It was placed here by someone seeking a tranquil setting in this pasture, as a wooden bench sits nearby. What a great place to relax, listen to birds, and watch the water rush over the smooth rocks. Ahhh!

Soon, these rural landscapes disappear as suburbs rise in the distance. Housing developments explode on these once-tilled hillsides. Suburbs collide with one another as the city expands to swallow up the countryside. Exits, once few and far between, are now more common and frenzied commuters zip in and out of traffic on these intersecting highways. Jim and I rely on GPS technology to navigate through this maze to our campground. It feels like time moves at a much faster pace here. Perhaps it does.

Once we arrive, we’re led to a gorgeous campsite nestled at the edge of the woods. Jim has years of experience setting up a camper alone, so Shotgun and explore while he levels the trailer, installs wheel chocks, hooks up to electricity, water, and sewer, then goes inside to bleed the air from the water lines. It was a long day, but soon we’d be relaxing in our home away from home.

The trees boast their colors, leaving gray shadows that stretch across our path. Shotgun pulls the leash with eagerness, as he sniffs every blade of grass. The air is crisp and the sun is setting as we explore our little corner of this hilly, wooded campground. I was deep in thought, mindlessly plodding along with a leash in my hand.

You see, I don’t understand it – I really don’t – but something very magical happens whenever I return to Iowa. Every. Single. Time. All is right with the world. My heart is full and my soul is at home. I can’t explain it and haven’t lived here for half a century, but tears moisten the corners of my eyes as I bask in this phenomenon once again. As we neared our campsite, I was still in a daze until I saw it – a waterfall. Oh, my goodness! This was unexpected.

No, it wasn’t a beautiful scenic waterfall, but a deluge rushing from the underbelly of our trailer and flooding the ground at my feet. Jim was inside bleeding the air from the water lines, so I pounded on the side of the trailer to get his attention. It didn’t take long to determine that the previous owner failed to winterize the trailer. And, the dealership’s ‘thorough inspection’ didn’t include a pressure test of the hot water tank. It was split wide open, hidden within the cabinetry but totally incapable of holding water.

Thankfully, the tank would be replaced at no charge when we got home but until then, we were in Iowa – without water. This maiden voyage wasn’t turning out as relaxing as planned. But, Jim and I are good at making lemonade of lemons. Water dipped from a bucket was used to flush the toilet. We cooked with bottled water and we showered at the bathhouse. We survived and we even enjoyed RV life despite the lack of water. The campground was wonderful, our campsite was gorgeous, and our trailer was perfect – well, with one massive exception.

The Legacy Coalition conference was great, as always. I’m blessed to partner with this incredible Christian organization and have my debut book, Celebrate Grandparenting, part of their library of resources for intentional grandparents. What an honor!

Our free time in my home state was filled with friends and family. Jim and I spent a lot of time in Winterset – the county seat of Madison County and birthplace of John Wayne – where my family lived when I was a high school freshman. (Cue the son with new lyrics, “Hey, hey, we’re the freshmen…people say we monkey around.”) It’s where I had my first date – popcorn shared at the movie theater downtown. I have no idea what we saw. It’s where I met Dick Van Dyke and chatted with him on the sidewalk in front of the high school while he was there to film Cold Turkey.

For decades, Winterset was the home of my grandparents – my maternal grandpa lived at 922 E Washington and my paternal grandparents, at 922 W Court – one block apart on opposite ends of town. Driving past their homes triggered even more wonderful memories of time spent with extended family. Oh, how I miss those days. Winterset is also where I’ve attended a few too many funerals.

Jim and I drove to the city park where one of the covered bridges of Madison County – the 1870 Cutler-Donahoe – was relocated in 1979. Even now, I’m haunted as I approach the park because of the narrow one-way street with high concrete curbs on both sides. This was where I learned to drive. Navigating those curves and curbs required precision back then. It still does. Just ask Jim. Thankfully, we weren’t towing our trailer. While at the park, we took a side trip up to Clark Tower, a 25’ limestone tower built in 1926.

I’ve walked up that narrow gravel road many times over the years. At every family reunion, after lunch, the younger generation of the Camp family would hike up to the tower while the adults visited for hours. I don’t think they even missed us while we were gone. Those were the days!

I’d never seen the tower so busy. Cars and people were everywhere. Stone steps wrap the outside of the lower tower, leading to a room from which there are stunning views. Only the bravest of souls climb the make-shift steel ladder to see the 360-degree view from the top of the tower. We waited as people came down with a white-knuckled grip on the railing. I wondered if I should even try it. Concrete, stone, and steel aren’t forgiving and my balance isn’t what it once was. Besides, those steps were significantly steeper than I remembered. Even if I made it up, would I be able to get back down? I really wasn’t sure.

But…I did. And, the view was even better than I remembered. What fun!

Jim and I wandered around the square in downtown Winterset. If you’ve never seen the Madison County courthouse, you should. At Christmastime it’s especially beautiful.

We walked a block from downtown to Frostee’s for a gigantic Iowa pork tenderloin and the best ice cream cone ever. I simply can’t visit Winterset without getting a cone from this mom-and-pop joint. Best soft serve ice cream on the planet, I’m convinced.

We visited my grandparents’ graves (and a few from generations past) at the Penn Center cemetery, then drove past the old church at Pitzer. This nearly non-existent community holds decades-old memories of an Independence Day celebration when I was a very young child. Memories of a blanket spread on the ground beneath a canopy of loud, colorful fireworks that lit up the night sky. Oh, what fun that was.

One evening, Jim and I met my high school BFF and her husband for dinner. I was in her wedding, then three months later, she was in mine. That was 51 years ago – 1973. The four of us chatted that night as if we had dinner once a week rather than once every five years. It’s great when time doesn’t impact friendships. While in Iowa, we also spent time with family members and did a lot of visiting and catching up on life. I dearly love my Iowa family and love seeing them whenever we can.

Interestingly, 13 of my 3^rd and 4^th great-grandparents were early pioneers in Madison County in the 1850s; early pioneers on both sides of my family tree. Seriously, my roots run deep (and wide) in Iowa. Hmmmm? Perhaps that explains Iowa’s invisible tug at my heartstrings? Who knows? But, this I do know: Being in Iowa always does my heart good. Despite low mileage stats, high fuel prices, and an unexpected waterfall, our maiden voyage was a good one.

Ironically, it was also our final one. Life has changing seasons, just like we see in nature. For us, that means downsizing. The trailer – now fixed – is home sweet home to a younger family. Meanwhile, Jim and I continue to see God’s beauty in the changing seasons of life. God is good and we are forever blessed.