The One Hundredth Meridian is a symbolic and somewhat arbitrary demarcation of the arid west, called out by John Wesley Powell in the 1800s.
We've crossed it 10 times during the past four summers (on 10 different routes between Nebraska and Manitoba), but each time as we get close I forget to take note.
We crossed it this past Saturday afternoon and I actually remembered to stop. An ideal picture would show well-watered corn and alfafa to the east and wheat and cattle to the west - but the already fuzzy line is blurred these days by irrigation practices that depend on replumbed rivers, groundwater pumping (mining?), and more federal subsidy than folks around here probably want to admit (and maybe a little luck in the late 20th century climate, too).
It was sort of ironic that it was drizzling when we crossed the line!
1 comment:
I went to graduate school in Iowa City. All I remember of South Dakota was how long it took to get across. I guess I should have paid more attention.
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