The Mississippi.

April 17, Ste. Genevieve.

We're on a hill overlooking the Mississippi river, but cannot see it for the levees. Thinking of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, reading and re-reading Mark Twain, and the years in Missouri, the great flood of 1993. The river is mythic to me.
We passed our first cultivated fields, first in a long series now that we're entering the Midwest for good.