I’m channeling Willa Cather tonight. Willa was inspired by the Great Plains of Nebraska, and I find myself marveling at the strange, desolately boring beauty of southern Illinois.
I’m not a country girl, at least not yet. I’ve lived in suburbia and
urbania city and have visited small towns to see family, but I’ve never had extended experience in the country. I’ve had no opportunity to survey fields of wheat and corn any closer than the highway, and a train offers a nice vantage point. As the sun sets amidst the changing trees, I can see why people don’t mind living in the middle of nowhere, where the cell service goes out and there’s little to see but fields.
The sun was coloring the harvested, now dormant fields a few minutes ago, filtering red and purple light over it. And I caught a glimpse of why people are attracted to agriculture. I suppose it can be beautiful.
There’s a little white farmhouse and other little white buildings beside it in the field out the window to my left. A few trees stand guard over the buildings, and you can see one sliver of sunset between the clouds and the horizon behind it all.
I suppose I’m channeling Wendell Berry, too. And probably Emily Dickinson.
Perhaps I’m just nearing poet status a bit more. Perhaps I should ride trains more frequently.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take advantage of this forced siting to finally (!!!) finish my book.