A wicked wind tore through our coats. Larry looked down from the highway across his neighbor's field squinting and frowning. The black clumps of earth overturned by the last plowing were infested with what appeared to be white mold. It looked like frost, but cold as it felt, it was too warm for frost to have remained on the ground.

"It's not frost," Larry was saying. "It's chemicals. And salt. The standing water from the snowmelt and the rain last week brought them to the surface. When the wind blows and dries things out, the salt and chemicals are left behind on top. Now that field's good for nothing."

"Can it be restored?" I asked.

"Takes time and money. Two things a farmer doesn't have."

I don't know how true this was for Larry's neighbor, but it was especially true for Larry. Two y…