Beneath a Hayfield

Intern Nate, a photo by meagan.porter on Flickr.

I know I love my job but once in awhile, I have the opportunity to cover a story that reminds me exactly why. Last week was one of those opportunities. The photo above isn't me, by the way. It's a candid of the Reedsburg Independent's intern, Nate, who had the distinction of being the last person to stand in this hole before it and the equipment inside were sealed for two years. But more on that later.

Leon's enthusiasm was infectious the first time he called to tell me about the EarthScope project, an ambitious endeavor to bury seismometers every 60 kilometers across the United States in order to create a 3-D model of the Earth's mantle. They had just poured concrete beneath his hayfield outside Loganville, Wisconsin, and they were set to bury the equipment in four weeks or so. Leon called again last week and said, weather permitting, they were all set to finish the project.

I could go on and on about the project itself, but I did that at length in my article for the Indy this week. What I aim to document on this blog is the experience of takin' pictures, what I did, how it felt, what I learned and what I can do better. The behind-the-scenes kind of stuff, which is why I chose the photo above. In it, Nate looks how I felt that day - absorbed in a project, on the scene and in the moment.

Despite having done a few hours research, looking at charts and mission statements, I had no idea what to expect that day when we headed out there. I had little clue how to prepare myself or my intern for it; as we drove out to the farm on hilly and windy country roads, all I was able to tell him was, "This is going to be so cool. No, really, this is so cool."

The weather was gorgeous that afternoon on the Statz's farm, a bit overcast, the bluffs sprawling as far as the eye could see. Everything was green and growing, reaching toward a blue sky and early summer sunlight. The EarthScope equipment was alien in the middle of that hayfield, a deep hole with tools strewn within arms reach of the man standing inside. Adjacent to that was a solar panel, metal and glass but like the scenery around it, also stretching toward the sky.

We absorbed the scene, all of us - friends, family, and neighbors of the Statzs, my intern and I. Nate and I circled around, taking pictures, taking notes. We were there about two hours and on the way back, we agreed that there was no way it could have been that long. Four kids were running around, peering into the hole, asking dozens of questions. I envied them; I have always been intimidated talking to expert-y people, afraid I'm going to annoy them with my ordinary, non-genius person questions. But those kids held nothing back, making my job infinitely easier.

It is rare and exciting to meet people so engaged in their work. The two field engineers who showed up that day spend two months on the road, almost every day in a different place, two weeks at home or what counts for home, then back on the road. Bob told us that he had maintained that routine for most of his life. But you could tell that, standing in a hole in the middle of a hayfield in Wisconsin, there was nowhere else he'd rather be. I felt the same way.

It's been over a week since we were on site. I finished my article and edited photos that same day, accidently losing track of time and staying late to get it done. It was easy then to report back on the story, but I am still finding it difficult to put into words what I felt that day. Maybe no words suffice, but it was one of my favorite experiences I've had as a reporter, and I feel privileged to have been asked to cover it.

Head to my Flickr for more photos from this story.