The last hour of winter light is resting on the Kansas prairie. The blowing grass is the color of honey with a tinge of red. The trees are gray and empty, huddled in small clusters where the land is broken. The silver sky hangs low and heavy except for a narrow blue opening on the Western horizon. The fields roll endless as far as eye can see. The boys and I are on our way to Colorado and we’ve been driving for over 12 hours. It’s 2 degrees outside and wind is buffeting the car in gusts. I can’t imagine the early settlers trying to carve out a living here. How did they endure the harsh weather of the open plain? Why did they sacrifice so much for freedom and a piece of land to call their own?
The boys are plugged deep into their electronics and I can see their mini screens flickering images against the window as we fly through this empty land at 90 miles per hour. It will take eight hours to traverse Kansas, and while some would say a boring grind, there is also a rich stillness and peace in the plains.
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