Simple Things: Dirt
I am a road-trip wrecker. Mostly, ours are back and forth from Chicago to Louisiana - 12 to 14 hours in a vehicle, depending on whether we’re headed to Baton Rouge in South Louisiana or Lake Bruin, farther north. The car, usually so pedestrian, morphs into a tiny moving prison, and I, a whiney, restless toddler. I wish it weren’t so.
I have learned to while away the (waking) hours watching the countryside fly by. Amazing what you see if you’re looking. Shane, our expert animal-spotter, is ever-vigilant, pointing out all manner of roadside fauna. Bald eagles can raise a roar of awe from all of us, as can a bear cub, or a doe and her fawns.
Shane and I both watch the crops from the prairie to the coast. Same crops, different stage of maturity. It’s a horticulturist's dream. My dad and I report to each other, “The corn is already tasseling in Memphis!” And, “The beans sure look good around Sikeston.”
I do love a fruited plain. Tidy rows of corn or cotton or beans appeal to me on many levels; namely their orderly soldier-like precision and their sheer necessity. They represent a simpler time, I suppose, when most people worried about things like measuring rainfall, and whether the corn is, in fact, tasseling.
Tasseled corn near Whitetail Ridge Golf Course in Yorkville, IL
What is fascinating, though, is the dirt from here to there. Northern Illinois dirt, like North Louisiana dirt, is dark, rich brown. It just looks like good dirt. I theorize that the close proximity of the Mississippi River to both locales is a likely common denominator, but, how can that be?
Because, North Mississippi dirt is orange. Literally. You have to see it to believe it. And, the Mississippi River runs through there, too. In fact, the state line between Vidalia, Louisiana, and Natchez, Mississippi, is the Mississippi River. And the dirt is vastly different, depending on which side you're on, which is the same as saying it depends on which state you're in.
And then there's this: My dad calls his South Louisiana yard "buckshot." It's not a compliment. It's funny, though, because the Mississippi runs alarmingly close to his back door. I can't even begin to understand how the river affects the soil of 10 states, all the way from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico, with altogether different results.
A water well on red Delta dirt, courtesy of The Delta Bohemian
Farmer and extraordinarily articulate writer, Lil John McKee, explains this much, "Delta ag land parlance includes terms like 'buckshot', 'sand-blow', 'rice land', 'cotton dirt', 'precision leveled' and 'gumbo.' All are descriptive terms, which tend to describe both the relative clay/sand content of Delta soil and its elevation." Huh.
Buckshot, for the record, is soil with a high clay content. It's impossible to cultivate, as it is thick and sticky when wet, and forms tiny hard balls when dry. Ergo, buckshot. As Lil John tells his kids, "If you throw a dirt clod at someone, and it disintegrates like a dry snowball when it hits them, it is sand. If it hits them like a wet snowball and sends them to the emergency room, it is clay." Now, that's clear as mud, Lil John.
Whatever the condition of the soil, wherever it might be, it calls to those who listen.
The farmers in Jo Daviess County, IL crank up the tractor as early as the frost will allow and turn the dirt; preparing, dreaming, planning what is to follow. Shane and I have a moment every year, when we see the first farmer out in the field. “Turning dirt, already,” we grin, shaking our heads in understanding.
Illinois farmland courtesy of KevinPalmer.com
Here or there, or anywhere, there is just something about the promise of turned dirt: what bounty it could produce; what sustenance. Like water, it is life-sustaining.
I try to console myself, in preparation for road-tripping, with the thought of miles and miles of plains and hills and bluffs; all, at the heart of it, dirt: the supporter and nurturer of immeasurable life. And for the first thirty minutes of the trip, I’m all eyes, until that tiny prison of moving steel lulls the toddler in me to sleep.
Curious? Here's an article on basic soil components and one on farmers that'll tug at your heart.