In my novel, Dakota Blues, I talk about Karen visiting her mother’s farmland. This is a picture of the land that inspired me. My own mother’s farm, the one she grew up on and almost starved during the Great Depression, is on the left side of the road. All that is left is the windbreak of trees. What memories those trees must have! If you were to drive closer you would see a slope in the left foreground, down to a “crick”. There was a barn and vegetable garden down there, too. Such rich history! What must it be like for my mother, to be one of only 3 surviving siblings who remember living there!
This dirt road travels west from the Enchanted Highway in ND
I’m 62 and wasn’t around for the Great Depression. On the other hand, my Uncle Cecil had farms in southern Ohio. When I was a pre-teen, we used to visit them — a whole hour’s drive!
Even now when I think “farm”, I can bring back those memories of the sights, smells and textures my brother and I experienced.
Get as many of these experiences as you can. Even if you were bored to tears, you can use it somewhere along the line when you need a character to be bored.
Go write something.
Bruce, you are so lucky to have those memories. I grew up in southern California, so to visit the place in the picture (and the relatives, who lived in Dickinson, ND), us four kids plus Mom rode the Union Pacific for three days from Union Station in LA to North Dakota. We rode in the basic coach car, no sleepers for us. Mom packed snacks in a diaper bag (the youngest of us was about 5 when we took the first trip). The train had a viewing car with a glass dome ceiling so you could ride up top and see everything. Great memories of another sort. Thanks for writing.
Oh, Lynne, I just love trains!! When my son was little, we’d hop on the Amtrak in the late hours of the night, fall immediately asleep, and then magically arrive at our destination, hundreds of miles away. Sometimes, I’d wake up and gaze out the window — at a star-filled sky, or flashes of lightning, or moss-covered trees and swamps. What glorious memories, sista — thanks for bringing them up!
Lynne, I think it is wonderful that you are keeping your ancestors “alive” through the stories. Your portrayal of your Grandma at the kitchen table is so powerful. I’m sure you have incorporated many of these details into “Dakota Blues” and I am anxious to read all about it! I agree with Deb “a picture is worth a thousand words” Thanks for sharing
Lynne,
The American Mid West has always facinated me. Just in the past four years did I realize not all of the Highways there were paved. I think they use some sort of limestone or clay chips. Born and raised in Southern California, where even in the 50’s, all highways were at least black-topped, it was a culture shock event for me. “How could a highway not be paved?” Since you hint that even the structures are not there, one might say that time has not stood still, it stepped back some.
Indeed, the tall stand of trees where your mother grew up, must hold many secrets. One can almost imagine sitting beneath them and listening as the breeze gives them a voice to tell their stories.
That is even frightening to imagine!
How fascinating, Lynne! It’s so true what they say, “A picture is worth a thousand words.” You’re lucky (and smart!) to have this picture sitting beside you as you write, to help with the description and the characterization. How very brave our ancestors must have been, to travel across unknown territory to unknown destinations! I’ve never been to North Dakota, but I imagined it would look just like this (only with lots more snow at certain times of the year!)
Debbie and Pamela, thanks for your comments. When my mom was 5 (the second youngest of 8 kids) her father passed away. He was only 40. Can you imagine what it must have been like for my Grandma, sitting at the kitchen table after the funeral? And by all accounts they were so much in love, aside from the instant horror of coping alone. And that would have been 1930, right in the Depression! Holy moly.