Nebraska!

Recently, Arthur, Sam, and I headed east for the Sand Hill Crane migration over Nebraska. The Central Flyaway, a bird migration route, is shaped like an hourglass and the middle part is near Kearney. None of us are birders. Arthur likes to point at birds but he also likes to point at rocks and Sam and I both have only a middling interest in birds. I have never traveled to see a bird before and don't have any future plans to do it again.

With all of that being said, it was actually pretty cool. Our friends from Colorado joined us and said that there were 500,000 (+/- 70,000) Sand Hill cranes in the area the weekend we were there. And even the least outdoorsy out of the group seemed to dig it.

I don't really hide the fact that I write things that happen to me. Even my more fantastical work is just me trying to make sense of myself, and maybe all writers feel that way. But I realized something peculiar about our trip to Nebraska: it went smoothly. It's almost impossible to write about something that goes the way you expect it to and no one wants to read a story about a couple taking their small child on a trip and enjoying themselves. Adventure is what happens when you don't adequately prepare.

Maybe with a bit more practice I can write nice things in a way that isn't insanely boring. Maybe this blog counts?