“Bright, clear sky over a plain so wide that the rim of the heavens cut down on it around the entire horizon…Bright, clear sky, to-day, to-morrow, and for all time to come.
     …And sun! And still more sun! It set the heavens afire every morning; it grew with the day to quivering golden light-then softened into all the shades of red and purple as the evening fell…Pure colour everwhere. A gust of wind, sweeping across the plain, threw into life waves of yellow and blue and green. Now and then a dead black wave would race over the scene…a cloud’s gliding shadow…now and then…
      It was late afternoon.  A small caravan was pushing its way through the tall grass.  The track that it left behind was like the wake of a boat-except that instead of widening out astern it closed again.
      ‘Tish-ah!’ said the grass…’Tish-ah, tish-ah!’…Never had it said anything else-never would it say anything else.  It bent resiliently under the trampling feet; it did not break, but it complained aloud every time-for nothing like this had ever happened to it before…’Tish-ah, tish-ah!’ it cried, and rose up in surprise to look at this rough, hard thing that had crushed it to the ground so rudely, and then moved on…”
– O.E. Rolvaag, Giants in the Earth: A Saga of the Prairie


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