Sometimes Starting Isn't Glamorous

Sometimes you start in the middle of dull winter, with the rind of old snow holding down every edge. Sometimes you don't really have a plan, just a need. Sometimes you start from a jittery kind of internal pressure that's hard to articulate, but sets your feet moving. Sometimes the start of something, maybe even something important, arrives at a walking pace.

Sometimes you start an adventure from someplace like the Quad Cities; which sounds like a place in a superhero origin story, but is in fact a snug little lichen hugging the crevasses of an intersection of historic travel. It's got that river town once-was grandeur in it's neighborhoods, and that unselfconscious cozy Midwest practicality. A strangely large number of chiropractic schools and excellent antique shops. Exactly one perfect used bookstore. In summertime it's probably got a relaxed bustle to it's multiplied Main Streets, but in winter it's mostly made of turned-up collars.

The small city patterns of the Quad Cities look very familiar, but it is strung on a lattice of movement. Mighty river branching, major and minor highways crossing -- actually, on reflection, it's a perfect launch pad.