Mountains, forests, farms, shore – New England’s landscape is as varied as its seasons, which present a fresh palette like clockwork every three months: delicate pastel crocus in spring; summer’s emerald rolling hills; autumn’s sapphire skies and raucous sugar maples and sassafras; the pristine white and steely gray of winter’s snow, slush and ice.
When I moved from Massachusetts to Nebraska nearly 15 years ago, the landscape seemed drab in comparison. Autumn and winter presented a dull palette of brown, gold and gray; spring was the green upon green of soybeans and early corn; summer, the washed-out beige of dried stalks. And in every season, the air seemed to hold the scent of manure, even in the city, miles away from the fields.
It’s taken several years, but over time as I’ve explored the land, I’ve come to realize that Nebraska’s landscape offers its own beauty and diversity. It’s subtler — one needs to look more closely and carefully to notice its nuances – but it’s here.