Rush Hour in the Tallgrass

Sure, it may look tranquil– from a distance.

But on the last day of May, you can feel the urgency on the prairie. Things get a little crowded; plants begin to jostle each other for available space.

The urgency is there in the alien-looking pale purple coneflowers, which merge into the tallgrass. Then they push, push, push their petals out into the fast lane.

 

You can feel the nature putting her foot down on the gas pedal. Dragonflies shed their underwater nymph status, pump out wings, then lift to the sky. What a ride!

Other commuters, like the damselflies, are deceptively still. They startle you when they suddenly dart out into air traffic to snag an unwary insect near the water’s edge.

New blooms appear each day, bumper to bumper. Each has its host of pollinators. They fuel up, then collect their tiny bags of gold dust. They share the wealth, from bloom to bloom.

 

The flowers range from jazzy, eye-popping hoary puccoon…

..to the pale, meadow rue buds; unnoticeable like a family sedan…

…and prairie alum root flowers, that sport some extra detail work, if you look closely.

 

The earliest spring bloomers signal the work of flowering is over, and drive home seeds.

 

Deep within the fast lane; amid the crush of the prairie blooms…

 

…a thousand insect motors are idling. They accelerate into a buzz of activity, a hum of new adventures unfolding.

It’s the last day of May on the prairie. Summer is on the horizon. What adventures await you in the tallgrass?

This is one rush hour you don’t want to miss.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): Schulenberg Prairie Visitor Station area, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; pale beardtongue (Penstemon pallidus), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; three photos of pale purple coneflower  (Echinacea pallida) opening, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; female calico pennant (Celithemis elisa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; eastern forktail (Ischnura verticalis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL; spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis) with a pollinator, author’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL; hoary puccoon (Lithospernum canescens), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; purple meadow rue (Thalictrum dasycarpum), author’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL; prairie alum root (Heuchera richardsonii), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bastard toadflax (Comandra umbellata) going to seed, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie phlox  (Phlox pilosa) and spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis) with grasses, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  bee on wild white indigo or false indigo (Baptisia alba v. macrophylla).

May Daze on the Prairie

“The world’s favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.” — Edwin Way Teale

On a sunny day in May, find a high place to survey the tallgrass prairie.

 

Look for the lovely lupine, which paints patches of the prairie purple.

 

Hike a trail, and hunt for May-apples. Gently lift an umbrella-like leaf and observe how the flower transitions to fruit.

 

Prairie phlox blooms pinwheel through the grasses. Makes you want to do a cartwheel, doesn’t it?

 

The smooth, milky-white meadow anemones lift their petals to the sunshine.

 

Cream wild indigo is in full bloom; white wild indigo, looking like spears of asparagus, promises to follow. Soon. Soon.

 

Shooting stars flare, reflex their petals, fade; then move toward their grand seed finale.

 

Wild geraniums finish their explosions of blooms and form seeds, with a tiny insect applauding the performance.

 

Wild coffee shows tiny reddish-brown flowers, ready to open.

 

A few blooms of American vetch splash the grasses with magenta…

 

…while the new buds of pale beardtongue dip and sway, ghost-like in the breeze.

Have you been to the prairie yet this month? No? Go!

You won’t want to miss the flower-filled, dazzling days of May.

Edwin Way Teale (1899-1980) , whose quote opens this essay, was born in Joliet, IL. He is best known for “The American Seasons;” four books chronicling his trips across the U.S. His book, Near Horizons (1943),  won the John Burroughs medal for natural history writing.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby: (top to bottom) Clear Creek Knolls, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL; lupine (Lupinus perennis), Nachusa Grassslands, Franklin Grove, IL; May-apple (Podophyllum peltatum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie phlox (Phlox pilosa) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; meadow anemones(Anemone canadensis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL; shooting stars (Dodecatheon meadia), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; cream wild indigo (Baptisia bracteata) and wild white indigo (Baptisia alba macrophylla), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; wild geranium (Geranium maculatum) and a pollinator, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; two views of wild coffee (late horse gentian) (Triosteum perfoliatum) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; American vetch (Vicia americana), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; pale beardtongue (penstemon) (Penstemon pallidus), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Twilight in the Tallgrass

“Twilight drops her curtain down and pins it with a star.” — Lucy Maud Montgomery

Come with me. Let’s take a hike on the prairie at twilight.

See how the slant of sunlight shapes shadows on the leaves.

How the prairie dock forms a backdrop for wild hyacinths; a contrast of  leather and lace.

 

Soft impressionistic clouds of prairie dropseed light up as the sun slips beyond the horizon.

 

At twilight, you notice the beauty of the back of a wild geranium, which looked so ordinary earlier in the day.

 

You stand, astonished. And then, one by one, the stars come out, casting their star-shadows…

 

You wait, and see a shooting star, or two, or three…

 

 

Crazy constellations of flowers twirl across the grasses….

 

…and galaxies of petals swirl their pollinating passengers.

 

You think about your life, as you contemplate the play of light and dark.

 

So much to see and think about, if you hike the tallgrass at twilight.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby, taken at the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle,  IL:  trail through the prairie; prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) and wild hyacinths (Camassia scilloides); prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis); wild geranium (Geranium maculatum); starry Solomon’s seal (Smilacina stellata); shooting stars, (Dodecatheon meadia); golden Alexander (Zizia aurea); wood betony (Pedicularis canadensis); prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum).

The opening quote is by Lucy Maud Montgomery, the beloved author of Anne of Green Gables and its numerous sequels. She did most of her writing at twilight.

Bright White Delights on the Prairie

Bright colors aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.

Need convinced? Hike the prairie and prairie savanna on a fine spring day in May and look for flashes of white. Among the blooms, you might see…

…the small white lady’s slipper orchids. After the seeds germinate, it takes almost a dozen years for the plant to produce flowers. No instant gratification here… but it’s worth the wait, isn’t it?

 

Frequent pollinators include this halictine bee. Almost as beautiful as the bloom.

 

Common valerian  looks anything but common. The blooms smell like dirty socks, but it appears its antsy visitors don’t mind the scent. As the flowers fade, the stalks turn bright pink. Who knew?

 

If you hike the prairie savanna nearby, you may stumble on a cluster of large-flowered trillium. Instinctively, you’ll drop to your knees to appreciate them more fully. Wow.

Whoever named “blue-eyed grass” had a sense of humor. It’s not in the grass family (rather, it’s an iris) and this particular species is not blue.  Despite its name, this “common blue-eyed grass” is uncommonly beautiful.

 

I have an affinity for violets, although my neighbors think of them as weedy trespassers. On the prairie, the common white violets line the trails. They rarely venture into the tallgrass arena, where they’d have to duke it out with tougher plants.

 

Smooth and false Solomon’s seal are starting to bloom in the savanna and in the shadier areas  of the prairie. But the real showstopper is starry Solomon’s seal, sprinkled through the grasses.

 

One of the first prairie plant names I learned was bastard toadflax, which colonizes large areas, dabbing the prairie with dots of white. Its seeds were once a tasty trail snack, when eaten in small amounts, for hungry Native Americans on the move.

 

Even the lone dandelion that blooms unwelcomed by the trail puts on a colorless, star-like show. Love ’em or hate ’em, the dandelion has its own ethereal beauty as it throws its starred seeds to the wind.

 

Sure, it’s no lady’s slipper.

But even dandelion seeds take on a bit of bright white glamour on a fine spring day in May. Why not take an hour  or two and go see for yourself?

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby at the Schulenberg Prairie and Savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL (top to bottom): small white lady’s slipper orchids (Cypripedium candidum), small white lady’s slipper orchids with halictine bee (Cypripedium candidum), common valerian (Valeriana edulis var. ciliata), large-flowered trillium (Trillium grandiflorum),  white blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium albidum), white violet (Viola blanda), starry Solomons seal (Maianthemum stellatum), bastard toadflax (Comandra umbellata),  dandelion (Taraxacum officinale),  small white lady’s slipper orchid (Cypripedium candidum). 

 

Leaning into the Light

There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light. ~Barry Lopez

 

April rains soak the prairie. At last–May arrives.

Days grow longer in the tallgrass. The prairie, burned just a few short weeks ago, is carpeted with emerald.  Sunshine warms the newly arisen plants.

 

Prairie dock waves in the breeze.

 

Compass plants unfurl their ferny leaves.

The first few tentative blooms on the prairie appear.

Leaning into the light.

Violets spill over from the woodlands…

 

Prairie smoke nods in shocking pink, ready to throw out its silks.

 

Prairie dropseed spikes across the prairie in electric green.

 

A few wild geraniums tentatively skirt the edges of the prairie, as does…

 

… toothwort, spreading through the oak savanna.

 

A barrage of bluebells stuns the eyes.

 

A prairie trillium lifts its blood-dark bloom…

 

…as wood betony spins its petals in swirls of butter yellow.

 

Shooting stars appear as if from nowhere, arcing in a dance choreographed by the breezes.

 

The long days of winter and darkness are over.  You can feel spring bubbling up through the landscape.

Welcome back, light.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): storm, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; after the rain, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; compass plant (Silphium laciniatum) leaf uncurling, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; common violet (Viola sororia), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie smoke (Geum trifloum), Meadow Lake prairie planting, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  wild geranium  (Geranium maculatum), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; cut-leaf toothwort (Dentaria laciniata, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bluebells (Mertensia virginica) , The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie trillium (Trillium recurvatum), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; wood betony (Pedicularis canadensis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL;  shooting stars (Dodecatheon meadia), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; sand boil, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

The longer quote shortened at the beginning of this essay is from Barry Lopez’s book, Arctic Dreams and is as follows: How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one finds darkness not only in one’s culture but within oneself? There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light. ~Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams