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Saturday, August 23, 2008

Amber waves of grain





Drove off into an area called the Palouse today. It comes from a combination of French and Native American words meaning approximately “land with short and thick grass.” Hills roll on endlessly it seems, carved and smoothed by advancing glacier. Most slopes remained gentle enough for cultivation and as a result according to one source only about one percent of the original prairie remains. From the air it appears carved into geometric shapes colored differently according to the crop that’s planted in them or what state the harvest has reached. It truly is a place of amber waves of grain. Driving along through it brought a memory from a different incarnation, to a bar where all of us derelict boat types hung out. (I called it Key Largo which is a story for another day.) We liked it because a wide swath of windows allowed us to look out over the harbor to the east. We also liked it because the owner let us sing without pitching our sorry asses out into the bay. The western slopes of tall mountains rose above the end of the bay mostly snow-covered throughout the year. As the summer progressed into August and we started seeing sunsets again, some nights that sun would color the mountains pink and then purple. If the night went just right when a few too many jars had hit the bar, we made everyone in the bar stand up and sing America the Beautiful while we looked at that purple mountains majesty. I got to thinking it would have been nice to gather all those souls and sing the song again overlooking amber waves of grain.

I saw a few potato fields as well, and passing one area I thought I was looking at a feed lot but the animals weren’t packed tightly enough and even at 60 mph the shape was wrong. Then I thought horses. But that wasn’t quite right either. Then I passed the Elk sign and right afterward saw one with antlers. The place advertised elk meat and I thought of stopping to see if I could ship some home just to see what it is like.

At another place the local tribe allowed me to donate $20 to the cause of Native Americans. Big place with lots of fancy machines, bright lights, and music. You could put your money in these machines and hit a bunch of buttons and in time the machine tells you you have no more money.

Always fun to look over someone else’s country and also best not to make comparisons. This is an interesting area, but Alaska is home

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