Crossing the Mighty Mississippi into Illinois, we left Missouri now seen only in the rear-view mirror. A cold wind began to blow a fine icy mist across the road. We drove on through mile after mile of empty farmland sleeping under a light dusting of snow.
Here and there were pastures sprinkled with horses - their eyes closed, facing away from the wind.
A lone grain elevator stands in a vast plain, beside railway tracks, while Honest Abe presides over a cluster of cherry pickers.
In a few hours, we return full circle to Chicago.
Were we really in warm, sunny Florida just a few days ago?
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