On our way to Quincy, the highway led us through rolling green hills, fenced with barbed wire on either side. Occasionally, we saw cattle clustered together, which seemed odd in the heat of this last afternoon before the official start of summer.
Around here, the fields are sown with wheat, corn, and soybeans. The ditches are full of wildflowers, which reminded me of weekends at camp, hiking through the back 40 to collect handfuls of daisies, yarrow, and sunflowers for pretty girls.
Quincy is definitely something of a ghost town. There are some inhabited homes there, but there are also skeletons of old, gutted or abandoned buildings. The most excitement we saw here was when a feisty puppy abandoned his young masters (who were taking a dip in a stock tank) to attack our hubcaps.
Perhaps my favorite part of the town was the old, abandoned church, which was surrounded with a huge stand of wild tiger lilies. It felt a little bit sad, but also very peaceful.