Day 12 Bloomington Indiana to Davenport Iowa via Art Theime & Uncle Dave-O
We pass through countryside and housing estates. The trees are bare against a pale blue-grey sky. Red barns show bright beside pretty farm houses. As we approach Indianapolis we see a fake lighthouse beside the highway. I remark that we are looking for a street called "Crow's Nest" and wonder about the nautical themes so far from the sea.
We find Uncle Dave-O in a beautiful home beside woodland. So much fun singing and playing together. We share a love of old parlour songs as well as other songs that tell stories. Uncle Dave-O has a straightforward style and calls himself a storyteller first and musician second. He sings, "She's only a bird in a gilded cage...." and I reply with, "Far away beyond the clamor of the city and its strife...." We continue in this vein, all three of us, until Doris comes home. We all sing a while for her and then are treated to a marvelous meal. "Our time it is short there is none we can spare" though, and we have to leave all too soon. Art and Carol Theime are waiting many miles further on. We hug and take photos beside the Hummingbird feeder that hangs above a violet studded lawn. The Hummingbirds won't be here for a bit but their feeder is ready. I forget to ask about the nautical references in Indianapolis.
We cross the Wabash River "listen to the jingle the rumble and the roar...." How many hundreds of songs have run through our brains since we arrived in this country. Almost every sign triggers one. Not just the signs either. Through Danville on the Vermillion River. "My pockets they were empty, my heart was full of pain. A thousand miles away from home waiting for a train...."
At a rest stop called Salt Kettle there's a sign beside the lake that says, "Please Don't Feed the Geese".   We've been seeing Canada Geese for a few days now, resting up on the fields or flying in formation above us. Is this a rest stop for them too? Or do they have domestic geese here as decoration for the lake? There are none here just now anyway. A tall young man in cowboy clothes strikes up a conversation. He always stops here to see the baby geese he says. He's in the area to bury his mother. I think to myself, - The geese could have produced a few babies early to make him feel a bit better. He'd like to move here to live but his wife doesn't want that. I wish him lots of baby geese for next time he passes this way.
There's a big beautifully crafted weaver-bird type nest with a small hole in the side. It's hanging in a bare tree. I ask the nice ladies at the centre about it but they can't tell me what sort of bird owns it. Nobody seems to be able to help. I can't believe people haven't noticed it. Later I see lots of these nests and catch a glimpse of the bird responsible. Not enough of a look to identify it however. Later Carol Theime tells me about Orioles. She knows immediately what I mean. So that's it then. Orioles they are alright.   
Pass through the town of Mahomet where a sign says, "Lutheran Church of Mahomet". I'm rather taken with that.
We get into Peru in the late afternoon. As we pull up across the road from Art and Carol's apartment block, we see a figure waving from a high window. I skip across to a store for ice cream. Art has assured us that he'll let us send out for pizza because of the temporary nature of their accommodation. Before we've got to the front door he zips out of the lift and I meet the man I've so admired for so long. He looks at Hildebrand and pronounces him unchanged after nearly 40 years. We all hug and look at each other some more. Meeting Carol is another pleasure and we all enjoy each others company immensely. Art and Carol are in a small apartment while their usual one is being renovated. There's not much room for even daily living let alone fitting in visitors but we find that Carol has cooked us a meal. Two lovely home-cooked meals in one day! Fresh vegetables and all. So hard to find on the road. Art and Carol are such sweet friends to have. Such a loving family this Mudcat one. Hildebrand and Art swap stories from long ago. When Art worked in a music store in Chicago in the 60s he let Hildebrand play the instruments. That was how they met.
The time goes too fast again and we're back on the road by I don't remember when. Art and Carol wave from the window as we drive away. We'll make it to Davenport, Iowa before we go to sleep tonight. Seems like time has become changed.
    "Time goes you say. Are no! Time stays. Alas! We go."