Last weekend we drove two hours west to Fairfax, Minnesota.
We saw a couple of friends get married on a beautiful hilltop.
We camped about fifteen minutes away in a town called Sleepy Eye. And, at some point, we saw a pink barn. A pink barn!
I didn't get a picture, but among the rolling hills and fields were some of the reddest roads I've ever seen. Maybe it's because I never saw them in Michigan, but red roads seem like the strangest thing. Not strangest. Coolest, maybe? More natural? More picturesque? Something about them hints to adventure, to a trip across the country. To not knowing what your life will be like in two months. To getting in the car and not stopping until that low fuel light comes on. To maps, and an obnoxious gps lady, and candy you only allow yourself to eat on road trips, and books you never open because you can't stop staring out the window. Tomorrow we hit the road for Michigan, through northern Wisconsin, across Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and over the bridge to home.