(On the Road WEST)
We were on the road this morning and heading towards western Missouri. We’re going to see a niece and nephew and meet their families for the first time.
Destination today is a small town called Clinton.
On the way we stopped at a rest stop which had some unique picnic table shelters.
Now Bob and I were riding quietly, both lost in our own thoughts. All of a sudden we were brought out of our quiet time with a jolt! Picture this. Summer time, farm land, crops growing, a crop duster doing his thing. You know the sound the plane makes as it makes its turn to do another pass? That whine? Yeah, that sound! We heard that sound magnified by ten. The sound came out of nowhere. This idiot passed us on the right, driving on the shoulder of the highway. As his tires passed over this, behind us, the sound was certainly unexpected and very loud!
I saw this flash of red out of the corner of my eye as he flew by us, we were going 60 something, and he passed and crossed over the strip again we realized what it was. Before we could even speak he was past us, in the left lane and a dozen car lengths ahead of us. We just looked at each other, stunned.
As we pulled into the town of Clinton we both took note of fields and fields of what looked like really different looking corn.
It certainly was as not as tall as the corn we’ve been seeing and the tassels at the top were much darker in color.
As I was signing into the Cozy Corner RV Park I asked the lady behind the desk about what kind of corn was growing. She chuckled and said, that’s not corn, that milo. Milo, something we’ve never heard of before. With a quick Google I found the following.
Milo (or more commonly referred to as "Grain Sorghum") is a grain product that is grown in hot dry climates that cannot sustain corn. It is used in many parts of the world as a food grain for human consumption. However, in the United States it is more commonly used as an ingredient in the production of animal and livestock feeds.
We got set up into our spot and within minutes the men in the park were coming to check out the beast.
We noticed that a man riding a small front end loader was collecting picnic tables from all over the park and depositing them across the street from us under and around a pole barn type structure. Soon after here came the grills. The park was holding their annual catfish fry. The fellas invited us and I had to come up with a dish to bring. I was totally unprepared for this. I opened the cupboards and they looked much Old Mother Hubbard’s> What to do, what to do. rooted around and finally came across two cans of baked beans. That’ll work!
So at six we were off to a catfish fry. The people were absolutely as friendly as could be and included us in their conversations.
There were about a hundred people or so, so you can imagine how much food there was. Luckily, there was a crock pot of baked beans and my dish. When I saw all the serving dishes lined up I was afraid that there was going to be ten of them filled with beans. I went home with only half a can’s worth left.
We stayed and chatted until it started getting dark and then went in for the evening. Tomorrow we’ll see family.