50 Shades Of Green

I don’t like living in the prairies.

If you live in the prairies, have lived in the prairies, or generally like living in the prairies, good for you. But I don’t like it.

You see, I was born in the mountains. Here in the prairies, I feel exposed. Also, there’s nothing to do here…

In the mountains, I can go on adventures. Here, not as much. Generally speaking, I can’t really go anywhere other than the roads, because farmers don’t like it when I trample their crops.

In the mountains, I can go wandering in the woods and no one cares because no one farms there.

But anyways.

I went to the highest point around, (a fifty foot hill), and watched the sunset.

It wasn’t a mind-boggling sunset. There weren’t any clouds in the sky, and everyone knows that clouds are needed for those amazing fiery sunsets.

But I went anyways. I parked my car at the top of the hill, got out, climbed on the roof and sat there.

I was a bit early. the sun was still high, but it had turned red.

The colours were fantastic. Who knew that there were so many shades of green?

Every hill, every bump in the fields stretching out before me was a different green. The light danced a different dance on each blade of grass (Or sheaf of wheat or whatever. I don’t really know agriculture very well).

Dust from passing cars had settled in the lower dips, creating quasi-clouds floating on the ground. I was being eaten alive by mosquitos, and my leg was going numb because the roof-rack digging into the back of my knee.

A truck rolls by, covering me in dust.

I go home.