[By Kai Sanburn] We move into rolling hills through an impressionist’s fall with pointillist forests – burnished cooper, quivering gold, blushing reds and last-gasp greens. For days, we walked through Ohio’s mono-culture flatlands.. Soy, soy, corn. Corn, corn, soy..where late summer corn counted for what there was of elevation, just about as high as an elephant’s eye. GMO crops mile after mile until Youngstown when the land began to fold into these low rolling hills. Now, creeks and streams thread silver through the woods and
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