US 83 through Kansas to Garden City is a classic highway that deserves every single dot that Mr McNally has bestowed upon it. On the face of it, the road slices through featureless wheatland, mile after mile the same, but it is the scale of America’s breadbasket that conjures up the overpowering sense of beauty. And the sky! Above it all is a sky that vaults upwards for ever and ever and holds spectacles that the eye can barely contain. And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house in the deep bosom of the ocean buried. No Richard, they went to Kansas. Louring, towering, the cloud giants billow upwards like genies from a magic lamp and march across the horizon, while beneath them the wheat stalks shiver and bare dirt stirs. Around the solid-seeming clouds are apocalyptic depths of indigo and storm blue that have me craning up through the windscreen, but still I cannot see their lofty summits.

Storm Cloud, Kansas

Copyright  Alice Starmore
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