On Friday afternoon I took the tollway to the Cretaceous Period, passing through the tangled cloverleaf of elevated ramps that can vector you off in the direction of Laredo, Duluth, Houston or the Hill Country if you miss your exit. When you’re up on one of those overpasses that tower over the negative space of the city, you risk testing the effectiveness of that little concrete guardrail if you try to take a proper look at the landscape below. If you did, you would see the wide plain of what was once a shallow sea, where leviathan reptiles swam in the space now occupied by the kinds of suburbs that are invisible to all but those who live there.
Unlike the unsolicited Statesman newspaper that is wrapped in plastic and dumped on my driveway, this is a Sunday read I actually look forward to. You've also inspired me to grab my 10 year old and a trowel and head out on a fossil hunt.
A Secret History of Empty Lots
Unlike the unsolicited Statesman newspaper that is wrapped in plastic and dumped on my driveway, this is a Sunday read I actually look forward to. You've also inspired me to grab my 10 year old and a trowel and head out on a fossil hunt.
Another fascinating read. I look forward to reading your Field Notes every week. Beautifully written and unusual subjects. Thanks.