A quick stop at the Alexandria rest area on Route 94 in Minnesota. 9:30 EST, and the sun was setting. The land around us was reasonably flat. Cornfields were bordered by thick stands of trees. Roadsides were coated with lush green grass. Stately, three armed poles marched along beside the roads, supporting four levels of heavy duty wires, high overhead.
The rest area offered several acres of green, tree shaded lawn, overshadowed by mature shade trees. The sweet scent of purple iris wafted to meet us as we approached the building. Under trees and in beds around the building and along walls, were colorful, well tended flower beds.
An elderly man in a caretaker's uniform knelt by one of the beds, digging up the soil with a small trowel. Hosta, geraniums, petunias, and impatiens were spaced along the bed with plenty of room for growth. Behind them rose the taller iris, purple and gold, in full bloom.When exiting the building, he greeted us with a smile. I commented on the lovely flowers, and thanked him for providing such a restful area.
He rose carefully, and gazed ruefully at the small tool in his hand. "I could only find this to work with; I need a shovel!" I told him that still does a good job, just requires more of his back to compensate. He smiled, and moved on.
With the Trucker resting on a nearby bench, I read the plaque standing nearby. The Red River Trading Route ran near here in the 1800's. It described, among other things, the mud and mosquitoes that plagued those who braved the route. And the wheels of the traders' carts were six feet high, held together by wooden nails and leather. It is said that the squeak of those wheels could be heard for several miles. The Trucker's wheels are definitely not such a trial to the ears, though the traders' oxen most certainly were quieter than the Truckers' horsepower!
The gardener reappeared then, asked if I have a minute, and motioned toward his office door. The Trucker nodded permission, so I followed. In the office, he gestured toward a bulletin board on the wall. "There's a photo of the job last year's guy did," he told me in a barely discernible Canadian accent. The photo showed the same flowerbed in front of the building, completely covered with orange marigolds, so full they overhung the sidewalk.
It was a beautiful sight, but I preferred the variety of flowering plants, neatly spaced to allow the black Minnesota dirt to show between them, and told him so. He explained the local soil packed and hardened in strong afternoon sun or in rain. Spacing the plants required regular turning of the soil to allow water the soak to the plants' roots. Another thing, he mentioned, was that marigolds are said to deter mosquitoes, of which the area has plenty. Maybe those traders should have carried marigolds!
He inquired of the Trucker our destination, and wished us safe travels. With smiles all around, we parted, he to his work, we to the Trucker's...and on the way out, took one more rapturous sniff offered by those lovely purple irises!
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