Two days ago things got flat. Then the trees disapeared. Wetlands, and now mostly farmlands surround me, along with variable winds. Towns are built around the railroad, grain silos, and chemical dispensaries. A clammy, gray day is no help for what is truly bleak. Fields of food surround me, but I have never eaten anything that was proudly grown in North Dakota. I’m sure I have, but some how is was modified–grain or corn syrup. Realities, not criticisms.
The berries are still from Watsonville, CA (Salinas Valley, near Santa Cruz and Monterey); the plums, cherries, and soon the apples and pears are from the Yakima Valley of WA (a desert); but the potatoes and corn (for feed or syrup?) may be “local”. Say grace with me while I sit down to a grain-fed burger, french fries, and a Coke.
The best drama in the story of water has always been in CA, and while the Salinas Valley has a hospitable climate, I saw the sprinklers running in November. The Yakima Valley could probably produce nuts, olive and figs, but plums and cherries are thanks to the Grand Coulee Dam and the mighty Columbia. It’s a desert with a big river.
And here?…a bit of God’s will, and some secret sauce from the likes of Simplot and others.
Hot and boring; looking for the fast forward button.
Post script: Did manage to make it look nice? The sunset and golden grasses are technically MN, from last evening. The grey entrance to ND and Simplot, today.