Today Earl and I drove the final leg of our journey to Canada where we are fishing for five days. And what we saw along the way was a microcosm of all our days on the road.
Once you get out of the cities – Chicago, Rockford, Madison, St. Paul, Fargo – much of our country is pastoral. Starbuck’s is left behind. Instead, you set your sights on truck stops. You watch how far it is from one exit to another. You don’t assume anything. It doesn’t matter what state you’re driving through.
This morning we had breakfast in Fargo, North Dakota, and then headed north on I-29 to Canada. The sun wasn’t brilliant, but it shone. Every now and then, a rain cloud reminded us that weather is always changing. Field after field was heavy with crops; but, being a city girl, I couldn’t distinguish one from the other. All I knew was that August was full and ripe.
Mile after mile rolled under our car. Along today’s stretch of highway I noticed that trees were planted in long rows, and I wondered if this was deliberate. Did these tree fences help when winter’s gales arrived? Were they the city’s version of snow fences? And, as usual, we experienced our share of construction. It seems August is synonymous with construction everywhere from Michigan and Indiana to North Dakota and Canada.
Earl and I have done several road trips of more than a thousand miles, and there is a certain familiarity about them. Whether it was today’s journey or one we took in May or last year, we are always subjected to the weather, the landscape, and the rural vs. urban attractions. It makes for great entertainment along the way.
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