The Green Tunnel
Ever since we left New Mexico, the trees have crowded the sides of the highway, getting taller and bushier, until what is on the other side is nearly all hidden. The grass grows like mad, people are always mowing, and when I do get a glimpse of what lies beyond, I mostly see more woods, or fields going back to woods.
When we drive on the secondary roads, there are the remains of small farms, a corral, a tumbling barn, a rusting tractor, and often an abandoned house. When we are near a city of any size, the old fields are filled with developments, but out here in the countryside, the green summer growth seems to be slowly reclaiming everything. It won’t be until we drop into the wide flat Mississippi flood plain that anyone is growing things at this southern latitude.
In East Texas, the lumber industry is big, we pass huge saw mills, and are passed by log trucks taking the pine logs, mostly for particle board I suspect. There are tree farms in Arkansas too, at least at first, but by the time we pass Little Rock, the green wall seems to be just growing.
We spend a layover day at a State Park in Forrest City. Aptly named, the woods here are thick and dark, even in the day time. The dog and I like to walk in the evening, when the worst of the heat is over. I like to explore the informal trails that most state parks get from kids taking short cuts, but here, either the kids are staying out of the woods, or the brush grows so fast the trails disappear. At dusk, this thick, dark understory is a little scary. The dog is a little blind, and shies at the occasional stick or branch, which spooks me a little too. It’s an odd contrast with the grassy areas and there are acres and acres of these, huge open fields that are just mowed for our viewing pleasure by gangs of mowers. Perhaps the thick forest, dark and entangling, is the enemy of civilization, and the endless mowing the only way to save ourselves or at least to feel we have some control.
I am no fan of lawns, they are a drain of money, time, and water, a design conceit to prove we have money to waste on a perfect pasture that nothing feeds on. Lawns in the desert are particularly sinful, and indeed a bad idea anywhere they have to be watered. Here, the lawn needs no water, just the dew keeps it shoe wetting in the middle of the day. Another campground with concrete roads and pads had thick manicured grass, trimmed and edged like a perfect carpet laid into the areas between the pads. This grass is so lush that one sort of needs to keep an eye on it, as though in the night it might grow out over the concrete and envelope the trailer.
And then of course there is kudzu, the vine that ate the south. Imported as a possible cattle food, this aggressive vine that looks vaguely like grape vines, covers everything in its path, murdering any other plant in its way. Trees are covered, and bushes, like some alien topiary garden, and also the ground, and then it moves on to cover more and more. It has no local pests, and would take over the whole world given a chance. This is a good reason to mow, or it might take your house!
Oddly, there are few wildflowers by the side of the road. The only ones I see are tiny yellow chamomiles and a big white blowzy mallow with a purple eye. In the high desert, the flowers are still going nuts, along the sides of the road. Perhaps the endless mowing has discouraged them here, the woods themselves are too dark. And the flowers here have most of the year to do their business, there is no arid summer or frozen winter, so they can flower when they please, no need to squeeze it all into a couple of months.
We are now in Caruthersville, Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi River, staying in a Casino Campground. The actual casino is on a boat on the river, actually two, a barge with a building on it, and an old ferry or excursion boat tied up outside of the barge. They have fake smokestacks with the iconic metal crown and a cut out of paddle wheels amidships, but mostly they are a stage set. The insides are the usual glitzy, tawdry décor with slot machines and vaguely hopeful folks pouring their quarters into them, and too much cigarette smoke in the air.
We can go out on the rail of the outside boat, and sit watching the Big Muddy go by, roiling and seething at a pretty good clip. A barge with its tow boat pushing it heads very slowly up river. This is a dangerous river, fast and full of logs, and inclined to build up sandbars in the night, or roll old snags up. At the casino there is a 10 foot cement flood wall with slots for panels where the road goes through it. Right now, the river is way below us, but the floodwalls make me think of the horrors of New Orleans, and other floods I’ve seen on TV.
The main entertainment this morning is that they have torn up and re-cemented two of the three roads in this small campground. Many RVers are unable to back their rigs at all, especially those who have chosen the pull through sites that we are in. Getting out may turn out to be interesting. They also started this noisy work at 6:45 AM, understandable in the heat, but not nice for those who were up all night partying in the Casino. It’s going to be like one of those puzzles with sliding plastic numbers and only one empty space to move to while you get them in order.
When we drive on the secondary roads, there are the remains of small farms, a corral, a tumbling barn, a rusting tractor, and often an abandoned house. When we are near a city of any size, the old fields are filled with developments, but out here in the countryside, the green summer growth seems to be slowly reclaiming everything. It won’t be until we drop into the wide flat Mississippi flood plain that anyone is growing things at this southern latitude.
In East Texas, the lumber industry is big, we pass huge saw mills, and are passed by log trucks taking the pine logs, mostly for particle board I suspect. There are tree farms in Arkansas too, at least at first, but by the time we pass Little Rock, the green wall seems to be just growing.
We spend a layover day at a State Park in Forrest City. Aptly named, the woods here are thick and dark, even in the day time. The dog and I like to walk in the evening, when the worst of the heat is over. I like to explore the informal trails that most state parks get from kids taking short cuts, but here, either the kids are staying out of the woods, or the brush grows so fast the trails disappear. At dusk, this thick, dark understory is a little scary. The dog is a little blind, and shies at the occasional stick or branch, which spooks me a little too. It’s an odd contrast with the grassy areas and there are acres and acres of these, huge open fields that are just mowed for our viewing pleasure by gangs of mowers. Perhaps the thick forest, dark and entangling, is the enemy of civilization, and the endless mowing the only way to save ourselves or at least to feel we have some control.
I am no fan of lawns, they are a drain of money, time, and water, a design conceit to prove we have money to waste on a perfect pasture that nothing feeds on. Lawns in the desert are particularly sinful, and indeed a bad idea anywhere they have to be watered. Here, the lawn needs no water, just the dew keeps it shoe wetting in the middle of the day. Another campground with concrete roads and pads had thick manicured grass, trimmed and edged like a perfect carpet laid into the areas between the pads. This grass is so lush that one sort of needs to keep an eye on it, as though in the night it might grow out over the concrete and envelope the trailer.
And then of course there is kudzu, the vine that ate the south. Imported as a possible cattle food, this aggressive vine that looks vaguely like grape vines, covers everything in its path, murdering any other plant in its way. Trees are covered, and bushes, like some alien topiary garden, and also the ground, and then it moves on to cover more and more. It has no local pests, and would take over the whole world given a chance. This is a good reason to mow, or it might take your house!
Oddly, there are few wildflowers by the side of the road. The only ones I see are tiny yellow chamomiles and a big white blowzy mallow with a purple eye. In the high desert, the flowers are still going nuts, along the sides of the road. Perhaps the endless mowing has discouraged them here, the woods themselves are too dark. And the flowers here have most of the year to do their business, there is no arid summer or frozen winter, so they can flower when they please, no need to squeeze it all into a couple of months.
We are now in Caruthersville, Missouri on the banks of the Mississippi River, staying in a Casino Campground. The actual casino is on a boat on the river, actually two, a barge with a building on it, and an old ferry or excursion boat tied up outside of the barge. They have fake smokestacks with the iconic metal crown and a cut out of paddle wheels amidships, but mostly they are a stage set. The insides are the usual glitzy, tawdry décor with slot machines and vaguely hopeful folks pouring their quarters into them, and too much cigarette smoke in the air.
We can go out on the rail of the outside boat, and sit watching the Big Muddy go by, roiling and seething at a pretty good clip. A barge with its tow boat pushing it heads very slowly up river. This is a dangerous river, fast and full of logs, and inclined to build up sandbars in the night, or roll old snags up. At the casino there is a 10 foot cement flood wall with slots for panels where the road goes through it. Right now, the river is way below us, but the floodwalls make me think of the horrors of New Orleans, and other floods I’ve seen on TV.
The main entertainment this morning is that they have torn up and re-cemented two of the three roads in this small campground. Many RVers are unable to back their rigs at all, especially those who have chosen the pull through sites that we are in. Getting out may turn out to be interesting. They also started this noisy work at 6:45 AM, understandable in the heat, but not nice for those who were up all night partying in the Casino. It’s going to be like one of those puzzles with sliding plastic numbers and only one empty space to move to while you get them in order.
posted by Thistledown24 at 6:00 PM
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