Yolo Road Exit

The fascination with trees continues. On my way to pointlessly blast retarded (literally) birds out of the sky, I had to drive for a few hours on the interstate through what one might call bird country. Seemingly endless farm crops that stretch on for eternity. Old barns that suggest corporate American really doesn’t own all the food and a sense of nostalgia that you can only find in the art department at your local bass pro shop. Graphically speaking though, it’s better than an afternoon at the MOMA. Squeezing every last drop of land for one more soybean plant creates incredible modern lines and in this case the planting of trees, not because you feel bad about raping the land, but rather because they stop the wind from eroding the soil’s potency for next year’s crop. This all leads to perfect lines that otherwise would never be found in nature. However, this tree seemed to have none of that. Smack dab in the middle of the crop it provided no wind protection, nor did it delineate one man’s property from another. Yet there it was, in the face of maximizing profitability. Maybe someone else long ago thought, “…you know that tree looks cool right there when the crop goes in…”