I just returned from teaching a monthlong tropical ecology class in Belize and Guatemala. As I flew from Minneapolis to Sioux Falls, I saw this view of the farms below. Farmers and engineers have made firm lines according to the compass points, dividing the land into neat checkerboard squares of farmland bordered by dirt roads. Every section has its woodlot, a dark quadrilateral on a white snowdrifted landscape.
Ignoring the lines laid down by us, the wind has painted over this right-angled landscape. The snow and the soil show where the wind has steadily brushed across the state, patiently unmaking what we have done.
Ignoring the lines laid down by us, the wind has painted over this right-angled landscape. The snow and the soil show where the wind has steadily brushed across the state, patiently unmaking what we have done.
