Passing some cheery time on the elliptical machine, reading the Entertainment Weekly fall movie preview issue, I cam across a discussion of the trouble a director felt during the screening of his movie in “California farm country.” Into my head popped images seen at blurring speed along the 5 or 99. Carefully plowed rows, lines of grape vines, groves of almond trees - all in places outside of already small places like Lodi or Modesto. Maybe Stockton.

At the end of the article, however, the writer brings things full circle by commenting that the fear the director felt during that Sacramento screening was unwarranted.

Wait, what?

Sacramento is the farm country? Here? Really? I felt initially miffed; insulted that Sacramento got pegged instead of the clearly inferior Stockton or Modesto. Tracy, anyone?

Then, walking to my car this morning, my nose filled with the warm, earthy scent of summer farmland - grass and cow and agriculture.

Oh, right. California farm country. Here we are.