Blue heart, because loving Kansas is a calm, loyal, slightly weather beaten kind of love. It is not the fireworks and palm trees kind. It is the kind where the sky goes green in May, the sirens start howling, and you walk outside with a drink to "see how bad it looks" instead of going to the basement like a reasonable adult.
Everybody else calls it flyover country, which is hilarious coming from people stuck in traffic for two hours. You have got wheat fields that glow at sunset, burnt ends that could end a marriage, wind that treats your car door like a personal enemy, and a basketball season that functions as an entire religion. Flat? Sure. So is a pancake, and nobody talks trash about pancakes.
Cut for humans who sit, slouch, and haul groceries in one trip, with soft fabric and stitching that survives the laundry pile. Holds its shape, holds its color, and holds up through tailgate season, gas station coffee, and whatever the sky does next.
