In the last forty-eight hours we’ve crossed South Dakota, Minnesota, and part of Wisconsin. In that time, the scenery from our car windows has changed dramatically.
Rapid City on the western side of South Dakota was described by someone (I can’t recall who) who said the rainfall was about three inches short of a desert. Meaning that if Rapid City doesn’t get its usual amount of rain, its climate is that of the deserts to the west of it. We could see this in the lack of vegetation and the parched coloration of the hills themselves.
Moving eastward, we saw cows in fields; then we saw great rounded bales of hay presumable to feed the cows. When we got to Minnesota, what we noted was the myriad of windmill farms. We’ve seen windmill farms in other states, most notably Iowa and New York; but we have never seen the number of them that dot the lands of southern Minnesota.
About midway through Minnesota, we began to see the kinds of trees we’re used to seeing at home in Michigan. Various firs, birch, pine. At first they appeared in clumps of three or four; but by the time we crossed into Wisconsin we saw firsthand why this state and its neighbor were known for their forests. By the time we slipped into the Mississippi Valley at LaCrosse, WI we were back in familiar territory in terms of the view from our windows.
We are stopped for the night at the Wisconsin Dells. It was one of several places we considered. But I hadn’t been to the Dells in forty years, so I thought we should at least give it a try. I know, I know. It was tacky back then and it still is. For anyone else who visited years ago, just know that Tommy Bartlett is still around.
The saving grace of this rest stop is that we are within reasonable distance to Taliesin, one of Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpieces and the one fraught with the most personal tragedywhen a disgruntled hired hand set fire to it, killing Wright’s companion and her two children. We plan to visit tomorrow. And I don’t think there will be anything tacky about it.
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