Welcome to Flyover Country, the vast and delicious expanse between the coasts. Here is where I work and travel, writing about the ordinary, knowing that it is really extraordinary. Nonstop flights from New York to Los Angeles constantly fly over us:
Silver wings and contrails paint names
Across our sky,
They fly from coast to coast.
Quick gaze at our patchwork land
Once white and black, then green and blue
Glide through, enroute.
Little glance from laptop light
To silent scenes below
They come and in a cutting shard they go.
Yet our fathers left us here
To work the space and
Pump the bounty to the coasts,
And keep the secrets of the land.
We stand, look up, wonder where they go,
Thank God they mostly do.Excerpt from Flyover Seasons
(North Star Press 2012)
Summer showers, ripening grapes, and birds on the wires are the miracles of the season. Showers have popped up in recent weeks to water most crops in the area. After some dry weeks, crops now look like they will finish … Continue reading
Driving the vast flyover countryside, I came upon a large field of common milkweed. It is probably ten acres and I can only imagine the potential thousands of Monarch butterflies that may have hatched in that field. The blue vervain … Continue reading
The “putt, putt, putt” of the old John Deere slowed and strained as the guys pitching bundles of grain into the antique threshing machine picked up the pace. No matter how fast they fed the grain into the machine, the … Continue reading
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