notes by flood and field

NOTES BY FLOOD AND FIELDPART IIN THE FIELDIt was near the close of an October day that I began to bedisagreeably conscious of the Sacramento Valley. I had been ridingsince sunrise, and my course through the depressing monotony of thelong level landscape affected me more like a dull dyspeptic dreamthan a business journey, performed under that sincerest of naturalphenomenaa California sky. The recurring stretches of brown andbaked fields, the gaping fissures in the dusty trail, the hardoutline of the distant hills, and the herds of slowly movingcattle, seemed like features of some glittering stereoscopicpicture that never changed. Active exercise might have removed...

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