Exploring Hoosier Heartland in your community and at state fair

<p>Tickets to the Indiana State Fair have fallen into our hands. This year’s theme is Heroes in the Heartland, so to get into the right frame of mind and try to re-capture the spirit of the place we call home, Becky and I decided to take a bike ride through our local Hoosier heartland.</p><p>The place we call home is situated in rural Indiana. It is not hard on a bike to get out in the country and away from traffic. It’s best to stay off the two-lane highways, but even in the small town clusters of civilization, traffic is light except for the morning and evening rush to and from work. Once we are out of town our bikes share narrow roads with wide, slow-moving farm machinery and double-axle trucks pulling trailers piled high with hay. Drivers always wave as they pass each other.</p><p>Today the sunlight comes and goes according to the clouds. The air temperature is tolerable enough when we are riding into the wind and especially when we are going downhill, but we are reminded when we stop that we are in Indiana and it is the middle of August.</p><p>Now we have expanses of wide and deep farm fields on either side of us. We are on a slight incline as as we go up, and we can see across the fields of soybeans to the beginnings of southern hills beyond. Becky says the crops blowing in the breeze are like leafy oceans.</p><p>Later we are going along corridors of high corn. For those of us who grew up in this area, the unmistakable smell of corn in the fields makes us remember that we have known that smell since childhood. The aromas of farm fields are one of the many threads that sew the years between youth and today together. For a moment, I believe I can smell August itself. It is the smell that comes from high heat and hot breezes; from dry grasses and maturing field crops.</p><p>We are on rolling shady roads that make occasional right angles with clumps of trees nestling in the corners. We see wild turkeys moving into the brush, and when we get too close we can hear them flap away as they escape into the thicket. Earlier in the morning, a smallish deer had sauntered across the road. A small black snake slithers and twists in the sun across the warm pavement. A turtle slides from a half sunken log as we pass a small pond. Along the roadside we see the remains of small animals that didn’t make it. They won’t be there long. Turkey vultures and other scavengers will appear and perform their niche functions in the circle dance of nature. Nothing is wasted.</p><p>We pass the house of our friend Dave who is outside doing yard work. He is a good friend and although he lives nearly five miles from us, I think of him as a neighbor. (Out here the definition of neighbor is pretty loose.) We chat. Dave likes to ride so our conversation turns to bicycles. At one point I mention replacing my wide mountain bike tires with some more narrow road tires. He remembers some old tires in his garage, locates them quickly and then offers them to me. That’s the way neighbors are.</p><p>After a while Becky and I say our goodbyes and get back to our ride. The last miles to our house include three hills which always take some effort. We climb them slowly, one at a time. Soon we are home sipping our drinks and reflect on the details of our winding bicycle-speed journey through the backroads of our state.</p><p>The State Fair runs until Aug. 18. Becky and I will go and spend a day celebrating Indiana’s Heartland. Maybe we’ll see you there.</p>