Roll after roll. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, lie in fields waiting to be retrieved, moved, sold, or whatever. Judging by the hundreds piled around the edges of fields and along roadsides, many of these rolls will end up rotting, reminders of how difficult it is to correlate production and consumption. That day in western Kansas, standing in a seemingly endless field dotted with more than a hundred amber rolls contrasting with the pale blue sky, it was easy to focus on just the beauty and stillness of the place, to ignore the interstate highway just a couple miles away over the horizon, the interstate that has both facilitated the overproduction of produce and helped sell those surpluses.
