THE NEW IOWAN
August-September, 2009
Rachel Burns contributes a
weekly column to "The Chronicle" about her
experiences as a former California resident who has moved to
an acreage in Iowa.
Clay County Fair
Originally published September 24, 2009 in The
Chronicle
Last Friday night we went to dinner and the OA-BCIG
homecoming football game with friends. At dinner, our
friends mentioned they were heading to the fair in Spencer
on Saturday. Coincidentally, those were also our Saturday
plans and we decided to drive together. This would be my
husband’s and my first time at the Clay County Fair, so
having someone to guide us would be helpful and fun.
We came home on Friday night from the oh-so-close
football game and set the alarm clock. After picking up our
friends and stopping for breakfast the next morning, we made
our way to Spencer. The first difference I noticed from our
fair back in California was the parking. It was much less
crowded and cost less as well. As we made our way from the
parking lot and began touring the numerous recreational
vehicles for sale, I thought this day would be a lot like
the Orange County Fair back home. Of course, I was wrong.
The biggest difference between the two fairs was the
farming equipment. This was a significant difference because
the Orange County Fair, held in Costa Mesa, California,
doesn’t have any! My husband was intrigued by all the
machinery, and our friend was happy to explain the
intricacies of each type of implement. This went on for six
hours. I wasn’t interested in learning as much as Josh was,
but I had a great time climbing in three combines.
My favorite Orange County Fair tradition is eating all
the best foods. The ones I missed the most were Australian
battered potatoes covered in ranch dressing and nacho cheese
(my husband and I always shared), cheese on a stick, cheesy
bread, cream puffs (I always got these with my dad),
barbequed brisket sandwiches, and whatever the newest
deep-fried challenge was for that year (a must for my friend
Amy and me). Maybe reading about that combination makes you
feel sick, but missing it only made me feel homesick. The
new-to-me fair foods I tried in Spencer were cinnamon
roasted almonds, egg on a stick, samples of different
varieties of Cookie’s barbeque sauces, and Conniebob’s cream
soda. What can I say? I really love to eat!
Luckily both fairs had several things in common that made
me feel at home. Both have large halls of products for sale.
I also enjoyed looking at the crafts, foods, and decorated
tables in both counties. Both fairs have several livestock
barns; an Orange County favorite is always the newborn
piglets and my Clay County favorite was the llamas.
My goal for next summer will be to attend both fairs, and
who knows? Maybe I’ll even make it to the Iowa State Fair!
Family Visit
Originally published September 17, 2009 in The
Chronicle
Over the Labor Day weekend we had five family members
from out of state stay with us on the acreage. This included
my mother-in-law and her cousins from Wisconsin as well as
my sister-in-law, her son, and her two dogs from North
Dakota. On his way from North Dakota to Iowa, my
nine-year-old nephew asked his mother, “Do they have
electricity in Iowa?” Although he has lived in New Mexico,
North Carolina, and North Dakota, my nephew seemed to have
similar misperceptions of rural Iowa to my friends in
Southern California.
Maybe he was remembering his action-packed ninth birthday
in June when he visited my husband and me in California, or
maybe he was just being a kid when he sat on my front porch
and reported, “Aunt Rachel, I’m bored.” My response was to
inform him that in Iowa, we have to make our own fun.
Last June in California, my nephew’s trip was non-stop
movement and excitement. We went to Disneyland, visited the
Griffith Observatory, went on a boat ride, and had a pool
party. I am glad he had fun, and maybe only I remember the
traffic, crowds, and expense associated with that week. That
brand of fun was busy and exhausting. Spending sixteen hours
at Disneyland is a necessity for getting some value out of
the tickets, but generally leaves me with sore feet.
Because this was our nephew’s first visit to Iowa, we
wanted him to have positive experiences. My husband spent
time teaching him to use tools. The two of them built a
simple bridge over a ditch on a foot path on our acreage. We
spent time just sitting outside with family, enjoying the
weather and scenery. I taught my nephew a dice game on a
blanket outside while we watched the four dogs frolic and
wrestle on the lawn. We took a trip to Storm Lake and
climbed the lighthouse the day before it closed for the
season. On the way home, we followed the Sac County barn
quilt brochure and pointed them out while my nephew listened
with one ear (the other ear was filled with music from his
iPod).
I’m enjoying the slower pace, quiet weekends, and easy
driving of my new home. Although I would like to make a trip
to Omaha or Des Moines soon, I am happy to know I can visit
big cities but come home to a place where I have to make my
own fun.
Black Hawk State Park
Originally published September 3, 2009 in The
Chronicle
I have camped at Black Hawk
State Park on two occasions. Although I did not plan either
stay, each one occurred at the time of a major change in my
life. For this reason I feel a close connection to Black
Hawk Lake and campground.
Last spring, immediately after an unexpected April
snow, I arrived in Iowa on a trip from my home in
California. My husband, puppy, and I had driven through the
Rocky Mountains with our little camper trailer in tow. I had
selected a camping location prior to beginning the journey,
but when I called the site I was surprised to learn that
with the snow it was not yet open for the season. The park
ranger suggested I call Black Hawk and that is what I did.
The man who answered the phone seemed to be caught off
guard when I called to ask for a “reservation.” In
retrospect, I had a very Californian mindset to assume
anyone would be camping in early April. I was told that the
campground was not ready yet and we would not have RV
hookups, but we could stay. We arrived at the deserted
campground and selected our spot. There was snow on the
trees and a breeze across the water. After putting on my
coat, I hopped out of the car with my puppy on his leash and
watched him have the time of his life jumping in piles of
leaves. We had journeyed to Iowa to meet several potential
employers, as I had phone interviews in January. The beauty
of Black Hawk State Park became special to me as I
considered a life-changing out of state move. I thought
through my options carefully each morning while walking my
dog around the peaceful campground.
At the beginning of July we moved to Iowa. As is often
the case in the world of real estate, escrow did not go
exactly as planned and the timeline was repeatedly extended.
After a few days of camping on our future property, we
decided to take a mini-vacation to Black Hawk State Park
where we could now use the RV hookups and enjoy the summer
weather. I had made the move out of state; though I was not
yet in my new home, I was able to return to the spot that
allowed me clear thinking in a time of uncertainty a few
months before. This time instead of snow we experienced
thunderstorms so severe that the park employees came around
to warn us. I stayed inside the camper for countless hours
during those few days, experiencing my first taste of Iowa
weather with my eyes wide and the rain and wind pounding on
the camper walls. Once again, not many campers were around
as the lightning cracked on the water.
Today, the lake is a place that I can always go to
think or relax and remember this transition time in my life.
I wonder what the weather will bring on the next camping
trip.
The City Dog and the
Farm Dog
Originally published August 27, 2009 in The
Chronicle
I moved from California with one dog and acquired a
second dog shortly after making my home in Iowa. Like each
state, there are things I love about both dogs. Mikeee is a
stout, 14 pound Chihuahua-dachshund mix who traveled with us
across the country. Maybe his missing eye and fractured hip
reflect the dangers of city life. Daisy is a lean, 26 pound
terrier who my husband and I adopted from the Denison city
pound. She was the only dog available for adoption and
coincidentally bears the name of the dog that lived on our
property before we purchased it.
Mikeee, like California, is governed by rules. In
a metropolitan area it is important to have laws that
protect the masses, such as requiring helmets for
motorcyclists and banning the use of cell phones without a
hands-free device while driving. Mikeee is a loyal companion
who follows the rules. He stays near the house, comes when
he is called, and would never run away. Daisy and Iowa are
free-spirits. With the vastness of unoccupied space in our
new state, it is no surprise that Daisy pays little
attention to property lines. In Iowa, I have seen many
teenagers riding around in the back of pickup trucks
(illegal in California) - and this black and white terrier
does what she wants as well. Whether it is running a lap in
the neighbor’s soy fields, hunting rabbits, or scavenging in
the trashcan, this dog prizes her liberties.
My apartment-sized dog is as predictable as the
gorgeous southern California weather. He follows routines
and although he enjoys frolicking around the acreage, he is
just as happy sleeping in a sunny spot. There isn’t a cloud
or a storm in the life of this little lap dog. The terrier
seems to have been bred from two farm dogs. Like the weather
in Iowa, it is hard to say what she will do next. When I
arrive home from work each day, Mikeee greets me with a warm
hello while Daisy may sprint by, acknowledging me like a
black and white lightning bolt moving with the wind to her
next destination.
Like the immaculately landscaped Getty Museum Gardens
of Los Angeles or Sherman Library and Gardens of Corona del
Mar, Mikeee has been well trained and I enjoy watching him
perform his repertoire of tricks. Daisy is the beauty of an
Iowa prairie – majestic, fascinating, but not cultivated by
man. She likes her human companions but seems to live beside
us rather than with us.
Can the love of my past experiences and the excitement
of my future adventures form a harmonious present? Judging
from the two dogs nestled together asleep in one bed, the
answer is yes.
Country Roads
Originally published August 20, 2009 in The
Chronicle
On a road trip from California to Iowa last April, I
learned that all roads are not created equal. Californians
understand the vocabulary of "street" and "dirt road." They
also have countless terms for the freeway systems, like
Orange Crush, El Toro Y, Sigalert, and carpool lane. In
rural Iowa, this is not the case.
One night in Manson over at Ampride pizza, my great-uncle
Don said, "Never, never drive on a dirt road. Gravel roads
are okay." I thought, "Well, he must not have understood
that my vehicle has four-wheel drive!" In looking at Iowa
real estate, my husband Josh had explained to me that many
acreages are on Level A gravel roads. Okay, so people live
on dirt roads. No big surprise. At least that was my
thinking until we went to see a property and found ourselves
staring at a sign that read, "Level B Road: Use at your own
risk."
We switched the Sequoia into 4WD and continued on. Within
seconds, I realized this was not a "dirt road," but a mud
road. The road had snow and ice on it and we were now
sliding back and forth out of control. Luckily and
unluckily, we began sinking until we were stuck, even with
all-terrain tires. I personally prefer being stuck to
crashing into a ditch in the middle of nowhere, but what
now? First thought: Even though this house and acreage would
cost in the multi-millions in California, who would pay
$120,000 to get stuck every day? Second thought: Panic. We
hadn't seen anyone in miles, we entered "at our own risk,"
and we had no cell phone reception.
Even though Josh had already realized this fact, I said
aloud, "I don't think this is a good idea." At this point my
memory gets a little hazy. I think Josh opened the door and
looked out at the tires, uttering a comment comprised of
half laughter and half profanity. After a few long moments
of spinning and sinking tires, somehow Josh got us unstuck
yet we were still a ways from the Level A road. We began to
creep along, and with more slipping and sliding toward
ditches on both sides of the "road," we made our way out.
The truck was absolutely coated in mud, buckets of it. There
was mud on the hood and windows, and the wheel wells were
full and stayed full for days. If it weren't for a
torrential thunderstorm in the Texas panhandle on the way
home, we would have imported some Iowa mud to California.
What I learned: a) trust your 90-year-old great uncle who
has lived in Iowa for his entire life; b) navigation units
are useless, as we discovered later that this property is on
a paved road and there is another way to enter; and c) if
you have to enter at your own risk, don't.
Small Town, Big Fun
Originally published August 13, 2009 in The
Chronicle
When I told family and friends in southern California
that I was planning to move to Iowa, a common response was,
“You’re going to be so bored.” Given that my husband and I
worked too much to enjoy the activities that area had to
offer, I suspected they would be wrong. In addition, the
cost of living and prices of going out meant most nights and
weekends consisted of some fast food and an occasional
movie.
With everything being new to us in Iowa, we are finding
our own fun. Whether around the state, town, or house and
acreage, there is plenty to experience as a New Iowan.
Perhaps some of you native residents have even forgotten
about a few of these activities and can try them once again.
Although southern California is known for being
accessible to beaches, mountains, and entertainment, the
millions of cars on the clogged freeways are a limitation to
that access. Living in north west Iowa I have already had
two quick and easy weekend road trips – one to South Dakota
and the other to Wisconsin. I enjoyed the small town charm
of Canton, SD and the college city atmosphere of Madison and
Oshkosh, WI.
One of my favorite local experiences has been heading up
to the Buena Vista Raceway in Alta. As long time race fans,
it is exciting to see something close by that occurs
regularly and is an accessible sport to non-millionaires! My
husband and I have fun reading through the names and home
towns of the racers and finding some local boys to cheer on.
Admission and a couple brats and pops makes for an
inexpensive and exciting night.
Another activity we enjoy is frequenting auctions.
Because my husband worked for an auction company in
California for five years, we are able to observe the
differences in the auctioneers’ styles and methods between
the two regions. We have also found some great deals on
furniture, tools, and household items – such as the first
snow shovel we’ve ever owned!
At home, we have spent a great deal of time doing small
home improvement projects. Simple things make moving into a
new house feel like one’s own home. With my husband’s
excellent mechanical skills, all I need to do is name the
project, buy the supplies, and watch him fly through
repairs. Little things, like converting two prong outlets to
three and replacing all the outlets and switches in the
house, give a sense of modern uniformity to an old house
with its own character.
When I was working two jobs in California, I had little
time for - or interest in - my hobbies. Since arriving in
Iowa I have spent more time baking, knitting, and writing
than I ever thought possible. A few inexpensive craft
projects are also fun in a new house; I covered an ugly old
corkboard with fabric and a ribbon border and I have some
used furniture to learn how to reupholster.
Although I have now started my new job, I know my new
lifestyle will lend itself to leaving work at the office and
enjoying life on the acreage. I hope to continue enjoying
these interests and am open to your suggestions of new
activities to try!