To Isengard!

I have entered a magical land. I have descended from the mountain realm of the trolls (the Ozarks) and entered the swath of the abyssal plain (the prairie). Cradled within is the locus of the Order of Wizards, the tower of Isengard (also known as the Devon Energy Center). As you can see, this tower has a commanding presence, guarding and protecting the peaceful forest denizens that live in its shadow. But wait. What is this? There is evil afoot in this seemingly tranquil land. The once verdant forest has been consumed to feed the angry fires of Mordor. Isengard burns. Shall water indeed come forth to quench the flames?

As we continue our impromptu tour of fly-over country, we have, in fact entered a fantastic land. One that feeds the fires of the imagination. Fittingly, the color here is red. From the sky- to the earth- to the state flower, the Oklahoma Rose. Yes, we are speaking of Oklahoma. The dirt: Upon entering the border from the east, the land is… unremarkable. The small rolling hills and dainty trees so typical of Missouri continue on for some time as we travel through Oklahoma. The same with the rock. The honey colored rock of Missouri mixed with ochre continues on as well, but gets more intense in color the farther west we go. The ochre yellows give way to bright orange and then to an intense, deep red clay. The trees change in proportion with the earth. The state is heavily forested in the east and gradually, oh so gradually thins out over distance. The dainty trees become ever more diminutive, almost so you don’t notice, until they take on a scrubby appearance. The forest peters out just west of Oklahoma City, above. Even the grass changes. It carpets the east, then as it thins out, occasional glimpses of the rich color penetrates from beneath. The slightest gouge in the land becomes all the more noticeable as the oranges, ochres, and reds are uncovered, giving vivid color to the otherwise parched and dull hues of a dry and wintery landscape.

Smack dab in the middle of this is Oklahoma City. Another artificial city with an artificial name in another artificial state that was cobbled together from unassigned territory. And it is passing to the west of Oklahoma City that the imagination kicks into overdrive. Once you are removed from the surreal world of the artificial, the surreal world of reality takes hold. The scrubby trees suddenly give way to grassland, revealing cylindrical mounds of deep red clay. The trees hid the structures before, but now they were plainly exposed. White grass covered the flat tops, providing the ultimate contrast. The grass was unable to colonize the sides of the mounds, ensuring their continued erosion. An occasional sickly looking cactus clung to life in its northernmost range on the sides of the mounds. This marked a dramatic change in our journey. From now on there was an acute awareness that everything here clung to life.

After we passed Clinton, there was nothing. Nothing. I looked on GPS. Nothing but dragons came up, a reminder that we had long since left the edge of the known world. For the first time, I wondered what would happen if our vehicle broke down. My fear gave way to wonder. The land, the sky demanded it of me. On this occasion, we were traveling into the setting sun. The whole sky was a blaze of thick, palpable pinkish red. The pink ball of the sun had set below the vast, distant, horizon. Yet the sky was lit up for hours afterward. The setting sun had revealed a new source of light. The land was ablaze, driven by the incessant winds of the plain. Wild fires lit up the night. Their smoky haze was the catalyst for that brilliant sunset. As we continued on through the night in utter silence, the distant flickers seemed like spirits, keepers of this strange new realm. My imagination took an unexpected journey that night. A journey that made Oklahoma one of the most memorable places in my travels. And that I did not expect.

Love, -D.