I went on a walk to look for the boot insoles I’ve been missing — just 20 minutes, from the car to the main road and back. The plains are windy and 90% overcast, but the clouds lack the uniformity that can make days like this ominous. Western meadowlarks and horned larks are singing, it feels high and serene, easy.
The road I’ve been sleeping on is a sandy 2-track that branches south off the pavement a few hundred meters from the next closest turnoff, a farmer’s driveway across the road. I can see his house and a few smaller buildings through the dead mullein stalks where the birds perch. The ones nearest to me are on the horizon. I can’t walk barefoot here because the ground is strewn with pea-sized spike balls that I discovered the first time I tried stepping out of the car. Their origin is unclear – the only plants around are the mullein, cheatgrass, and a taller, greener, possibly native grass. The wind that’s making it all shimmer would be too strong to conduct a survey in.
I don’t remember the last time I went on a walk in nature just because. Sandwich in my hand, untied boots too loose to allow purposeful movement, the missing insoles giving impetus to lift my head and look around, but not too hard. The path shows an antelope walked (not ran) right past the car last night as I slept. I found myself singing, instrumental backup courtesy of the wind.
The WEME’s know all I really need to know here. Kansas sure is beautiful.
