In these parts today, the sky is big and low as if a
spring storm is either pending or receding - hard to say which.
The air, thick and heavy yet scrubbed clean, says something's
about to happen.
Wheatfield With Crows by Vincent van Gogh - July 1890
This is gorgeous driving country. I've got the whole road to myself
- not another vehicle in sight. To the left and to the right of me,
nothing but wheatfields. I'm traveling east on Interstate 70 from
Topeka in a nice new car with very few miles on the odometer. It's
incidental what type of car it is. I think it's an Avis.
I've got the radio on faintly.
The sign for the Route 59 offramp comes up. Wasn't it Yogi Berra
who said "When you come to a fork in the road, take
it!"? His unattached way of looking at things suits this
leisurely, spontaneous drive to a tee, so even though it's
not on my agenda (that is until now) I turn north off
the interstate. Why not? I've got time.
Route 59 is less of an imposition on the environment than
Interstate 70. But the ongoing endless wheatfields it passes
through don't appear to notice, or care - however it is.