Looking for my roots -- or at least a memory -- I headed out of Salem and into nearby agricultural country. With no Jeffersonian square mile checkerboard patterns placed on the physical geography, it is driving curving back roads passing through small villages where the many one time main streets are being recycled by Mother Nature.
I hadn't expected to see irrigation as I drove through the countryside, but later I found that the area gets almost no rain from about mid July to mid September. The agriculture was diverse with milking operations, wheat fields, vineyards, berry orchards, tree farms and other products that will eventually find its way to your dinner table or to decorate your home.
As I drove around another high point on one of the winding roads, there were acres of color. The only conclusion that I could make was that it was flower seed growers.
Considering the size of the flower seeds (the size of poppy seeds and smaller), I wonder how the seeds were actually harvested. No doubt there is machinery to harvest the seeds. To harvest the seeds by hand would take a lot of people.
After that great drive around the country, this wasn't the only marvel to satisfy my curiosity. It will take a few more posts to get current with this latest nomadic and aimless exploring.