whilst American explorers crossed the Texas Panhandle, they dubbed it a part of the “Great American Desert.” A “sea of grass,” the llano seemed empty, flat, and rarely liveable. modern developments—cell cellphone towers, oil rigs, and wind turbines—have merely further to this stereotype. but during this lyrical ecomemoir, Shelley Armitage charts a distinct rediscovery of the principally unknown land, a trip without delay deeply own and far-reaching in its exploration of the connections among reminiscence, spirit, and place.
Armitage starts her narrative in an effort to stroll the llano from her relations farm thirty meandering miles alongside the center Alamosa Creek to the Canadian River. alongside the way in which, she seeks the relationship among her father and one of many area’s first settlers, Ysabel Gurule, who outfitted his dugout at the banks of the Canadian. Armitage, who grew up within sight within the small city of Vega, unearths this act of jogging inseparable from the act of listening and writing. “What does the land say to us?” she asks as she witnesses human changes to the landscape—perhaps so much catastrophic the continuing drainage of the land’s most dear source, the Ogallala Aquifer.
but the llano’s wonders persist: dynamic mesas and canyons, mammoth wildlife, various flora and fauna, wealthy histories. Armitage recovers the voices of historic, local, and Hispano peoples, their tales interwoven together with her personal: her father’s legacy, her mother’s decline, a brother’s love. The llano holds not just the great thing about ecological surprises yet a renewed attention of kinship in an international ever changing.
similar to the paintings of Terry Tempest Williams and John McPhee, Walking the Llano is either a party of an oft-overlooked quarter and a hovering testimony to the ability of the panorama to attract us into better figuring out of ourselves and others by means of experiencing a deeper reference to the areas we inhabit.