This week, I thought I’d share some pictures I took while back in Southwestern Minnesota at my in-laws’ farm. Their farmstead and the surrounding area is one of my favorite places. Ever. Whether I was out walking in the evening (when some of these pictures were taken) or out running in the morning (note the elongated shadow), there were few cars. Just asphalt or gravel. Birds. Insects. Wind. Sky. A soothing quietness.
Note the utility poles leaning to the west. During our time, crews were in the process of “planting” new poles and removing the old.
I’ve always been intrigued by lines venturing out toward the horizon.
And then there’s the evening sky like this. Followed the next day by a morning run with this view.
I know that there are no “grand” objects here. No mountains, no forests, no river. Just corn, soybeans, gravel, shelter belts. And there’s color and openness that expands my soul and refreshes me in ways that few other places/landscapes do.
A lot of my poetry and fiction is set in this landscape, replete with roads and characters driving on them. As to why those elements keep recurring? That’s a post (or an essay, perhaps?) for another day.
For now, there are the images.
Plainswriter 