Today, my long-time chum, Mary and I took a a break from the annual Willa Cather conference in Red Cloud, NE celebrating the centenary publication of My Antonia, and headed due south on US-281. A pilgrimage of sorts to stand on the Geographical Center of the 48 contiguous states, a mile north of Lebanon, KS.
With pilgrimages, one might hope for an epiphany, perhaps. I hoped for nothing driving 19.1 miles with Mary to stand at the contiguous center. What I did encounter from our quick journey was wind, fields of waving wheat trimmed at roads’ edge with switchgrass.
Willa Cather in My Antonia writes of wine-red prairie grass waving in wind, pioneer women went stark raving mad from the wind, I am fascinated by and love wind.
As I stood in the dry 95-degree heat, mesmerized by the rolling waves of green, I didn’t care about the contiguous center, I cared about wading in Cather’s words:
“As I looked about me I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of wine-stains, or of certain seaweeds when they first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.” ~Jim Burton, My Antonia
And yes, gazing out upon the waving wheat, the country did indeed appear to be running.
