ROLLING Page 8

the middle lands

Heading into Iowa I decided to take old route 30, which used to be the main highway before Eisenhower gave us the Interstates.
Driving it had always been a bear, with curbs on both sides of the two-lane road. Route 30 no longer had curbs, they had been replaced with lumpy asphalt; which was better - but not much. It was still nostalgic to travel along with the familiar small towns, with their granaries towering next to the railroad tracks, the town on the other side of the road from the tracks popping up every few miles. They were little peas-in-a-pod towns and I was still glad to be traveling on by, not spending my life in them.

After all the openess of the land I had just traveled, the middle land started to close in more. The corn was high enough to block line-of-sight at what they call "corn corners". The soybeans were a heavy green, and everywhere the farmers were working the fields; cultivating some late plantings, "walking the beans" (which is hand-pulling weeds), spraying, etc. Some were bringing in those great rolls of hay. Such a change from the old two-wire bales they used to do.

There is a fecundity in these farm lands which was such a stark contrast to the seemingly barren reaches I had been traveling that I almost felt a sense of being overwhelmed. Everywhere I looked there was something reproducing. Everywhere there were signs of people laboring ... from the farmers in the fields to the lines of washing hanging out in the yards or kids mowing the lawn or women pulling weeds in the garden. I had a sneaking suspicion that my lazy bones didn't really fit into this scene too well *s*.

I found my friends on a little island in the middle of the corn fields. They both still worked full days despite being 'retired'. While they were busy, I wrote letters, helped at what i could and enjoyed greatly the huge variety of birds in the area. The next farm down the road is a pig farm. It was mid-summer. My friends didn't seem to notice the odors which filled the air, but, believe me, there was a stink so huge that I felt as if i were wading in it and which filled my nostrils so heavily that i could barely breathe!

After a few days of being immersed totally in the Smell from Hell, I had to move on. I think my friends were a little hurt, but there was no way I was going to get used to that stink in the near future and the open road beckoned.

Page 9 of Rolling

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