As we left Oklahoma the previous night, Dana remarked that it seemed some of the empty fields on either side of us might have been wheat fields that had already been harvested. Now this may seem like an innocuous comment to you, dear reader, but it struck fear into my heart that my decade long quest to see the amber waves of grain might be stymied once more. It was June 9, 2008 when we realized that our initial plan to visit Kansas on our inaugural Amber Waves trip was not a viable one, and I've spent the past 12 years angling to get back to this state. At that time, Kerrie helpfully suggested we might get a glimpse of some Colorado wheat, and that had to suffice for the time being.
Therefore, once we settled into our wonderfully historic hotel (just wait until you hear this chapter of almost forgotten black history*!) in Wichita, I spent the waning hours of June 9, 2020 researching everything there is to know about wheat farming in Kansas. While there is far more available on the subject that most laymen would ever want or need to know, there was still no definitive answer as to whether and where we would be most likely to find the fields I had dreamed about for so long.
Our plan, more or less, was to wake up yesterday morning and drive until we found wheat. We had two possible itineraries and thought we'd ask a local or two which they suggested. Well, to say that the locals look at you like you're crazy if you say you want to take a drive to see some wheat is a grand understatement. Our otherwise lovely hotel clerk looked puzzled. "There's no wheat around here," she said. "Oh, we're willing to drive," we said. Another quizzical look.
"To see wheat?"
"Yes, to see wheat."
"Oh, okay, then just drive north."
The start of our drive north revealed one harvested field after another, and it's possible there may have been a few tears shed. We intended to take the highway to Hesston, at which point we would take a parallel local road to Salina, with the hope that we might find an accessible wheat farm. When Dana blew past that exit, there may have been a full fledged panic attack by someone in the car, and that person may have been me.
Alas, as if the Keeper of the Plains was already looking out for me, the exit for Moundridge, where "community is a way of life," suddenly appeared, and with the sight of its welcoming (and wheat adorned) sign, my blood pressure immediately lowered. As soon as we got off the exit, we were driving next to acres upon acres of not yet harvested, completely accessible, absolutely gorgeous golden wheat. We pulled off to a side dirt road, where there was only an occasional interruption by a truck driven by someone who was supposed to be there, and had our first foray into the wheat. While the weather has been in the 90's for every other day of the trip, the temperature had dropped into the 60's the night before and was now in the low 70's with a blissful breeze. It honestly could not have been any more perfect if I had ordered up the exact day I wanted to have this experience.
Daniel is either the sweetest son alive or a bit of a masochist, as he likes to find just the right song to move me to tears in any particular instance, and this was no exception. We were there long enough to listen to the wheat, "America the Beautiful," "Fields of Gold," and whatever other tidbits of music he felt might be appropriate at the time, my crying, and, of course, lots of laughter.
I never fully understood the whole "waves" part of the metaphor until standing there in the midst of all that wheat on a perfectly windy day. Suffice it to say that I didn't need the musical accompaniment to be moved to tears.
And, of course, what we found so extraordinary just off the side of the road in Moundridge is such a common image here in Kansas that no resident here can fathom that we came here specifically to experience it. If that's not a profound lesson about perspective and taking for granted the majesty in your own backyard, I'm not sure what is. When we stopped into a charming little Moundridge gift store, several hours later, as we were making our way back to Wichita but needed one more time round our favorite new community, the sweet woman who ran the store apologized that she didn't have anything to sell us with an image of wheat on it. She realized that she'd never seen any such product available from any of the companies she orders.
When we could finally pry ourselves away from frolicking in wheat (carefully, of course, so as not to disturb it), we visited McPherson and Salina, two sweet little towns with a few surprisingly hip coffee shops and boutiques. We wandered around for a little while before heading back to Wichita, with our essential second trip to Moundridge - and a bonus discovery of an even larger wheat field to explore - as a given.
Back in Wichita for the night, we opted for dinner in Old Town, one of the areas I had most wanted to explore, followed by a trip to see the iconic Keeper of the Plains, a breathtaking sculpture created by Blackbear Bosin, the grandson of a Kiowa Chief. While the "ring of fire" surrounding the sculpture is typically lit each night at 9:00, they have temporarily suspended that tradition due to the virus. Still, there were lots of people like us who either hadn't gotten the memo or didn't care about the nightly lighting since the statue at sunset is quite a vision all by itself.
Personally, it was difficult for me to imagine a more perfect way to end a perfect day, 12 years delayed but every bit as extraordinary as I first imagined it would be.
*So it turns out that our hotel is sitting in the spot of the Dockum Drug Store, where the first successful sit in occurred 19 months before!! the famous one in North Carolina that gets all the attention. The students' successful protest led to the desegregation of Dockum's stores and is honored in a statue we will find at some point this morning! :)
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