Waste: from the latin ‘vastus’; meaning barren, abandoned, uncultivated
Technically, road sides are waste lands in the sense that they are abandoned by man; though, paradoxically, no other piece of land is passed by more people. And yet, in late July there are few things more casually joyous than what can happen to them. Consider the symphony of orange ditch lilies, white Queen Anne’s lace, smoke-blue chicory, dusky-rose Joe- Pye weed, gold grass underlaid by green, and the trees silver in the wind against the blue sky. The hand of man lies carelessly and heavily on the roadside, yet beauty is there in the wastelands.
In the West, more so than I’ve noticed in the East, the roadside strip of land is so extremely prolific, compared to the land beyond on the other side of the fence where the cows have grazed. The roadside strip doesn’t get grazed, and, if the road is properly constructed, it is watered extra by the run-off. That’s the place to look for all the wildflowers and grasses.