Once the corn hits its stride in midsummer, I become enamored with driving in the countryside of southwestern Minnesota.

The hottest August day, when a south wind is blowing 10-15 miles per hour and the stalks are clattering … fabulous.

And in the first half of October, when one-third of the corn has been harvested, and the rest is still covered in that light brown/gold sheath, just waiting, and you spend as much time looking in the ditch or the stubble hoping to see a pheasant as you do the road … even better.

Yes, I spent my early life in Fulda, a village of 1,100 on the south edge of Murray County, but it is rather antithetical — this fondness for the prairie and all that goes into producing its bounty, and having been successful with my main goal in life, which was never having to lift or fix anything to draw a paycheck.

Here in my dotage, things couldn't be more grand as a part-time sports columnist at the Star Tribune. We have plenty of firepower to take care of the important stuff, and the bosses (mostly) allow my whims.

Thus, early last week, I was on the way to Adrian, straight west of Worthington in the middle of Nobles County, with the high school playing host to its annual cross-country invitational at the golf course.

The prairie drive through the corn loses something as you approach from the north, and encounter dozens of giant turbines, harvesting wind.

Those turbines were whipping in winds approaching 30 mph on this 80-degree day. They might be good for the power grid, but they ruin the pastoral landscape.

My friend Scott Mansch, now living back in the hometown of Slayton after 33 years in the sports department at the Great Falls Tribune in Montana, sent a text that included an endorsement of the Overgaauw twins, Amanda and Ashley, now seniors and the latest stars for a Murray County Central/Fulda collaborative in cross-country.

Why not? Chance to look at the corn, and maybe see a pheasant (not a one, but a few deer).

The Overgaauws did not disappoint, with Amanda cruising through the wind to win by football fields, and Ashley, dealing for over a year with a troublesome hip, kicking home to finish second.

More on those young ladies coming soon in your Star Tribune.

From there, upward to Sleepy Eye, meeting up with the crew planning Saturday's celebration of the 100th anniversary of Babe Ruth's appearance at the local ballpark on a barnstorm with Yankees teammate Bob Meusel.

There was a day off in the itinerary. I spent it in New Ulm, walking into preparations for this weekend's Oktoberfest rabble-rousing.

I had nodded to Tom Wheeler in press boxes at townball games doing play-by-play. His bio for KNUJ revealed his four-hour daily show included the Dinnerbell Hour, 11 a.m. to noon, devoted to polka.

Yes, polka! I managed to get an invite to sit in the studio. Numerous laughs in that hour, and then a call to Pat Fischer — sports TV photographer, Wabasso native, expert on this upper belt of southwest Minnesota.

"Wheeler's a beauty,'' I said.

Fischer said: "No kiddin'. I did a sports story years ago on a basketball league he started in a bar where they used cheese puffs, little hoops and drank Schell's all day."

Next Sleepy Eye, first a bunch of locals involved in the Babe Ruth celebration, then a handful of old-timer local ballplayers gathered downtown.

The group included Larry Heiderscheidt, 81, backhoe operator, leader of Heidie and the Good Old Boy Band, still working and playing "old, old country."

Let's put it this way: Impressed as I was with Wheeler's character status, he slipped to runner-up behind Heiderscheidt after spending 45 minutes listening to Heidie and these ballplayers tell tales from days playing for Sleepy Eye, for Stark, for Essig, for Leavenworth, even Mulligan.

As old guys go, I'm turning 77 on Monday. I realized on the drive home that meeting these characters from the prairie was a birthday present.

Helpful, too.

After Amanda Overgaauw cruised past at the finish line in Adrian, I became convinced my cell phone had dropped from a back pocket somewhere on the course.

A gentleman nearby witnessed my panic and offered this guidance:

"It's in your right hand, with that notebook."