Brown heart, because nothing in Missouri stays clean. Not your shoes after a spring downpour turns the whole yard into gravy, not your white shirt after you commit to burnt ends with both hands, not the river that looks like someone stirred chocolate milk with a backhoe. This is love with a stain on it, and that is the only honest kind of love this state allows.
It is 94 degrees with 100 percent humidity on Tuesday and sleeting Thursday, the barbecue argument between the two big cities will outlive us all, and somebody is deep frying ravioli right now for reasons no outsider has ever accepted. You love it anyway. You love it like a muddy dog that jumped straight into your car.
Cut from soft, substantial fabric with a smooth hand feel and a print that holds up wash after wash, this one gets grabbed off the pile first. Relaxed enough for a porch beer, sturdy enough for whatever the forecast decides to do next.
