“…While I know the standard claim is that Yosemite, Niagara Falls, the upper Yellowstone and the like, afford the greatest natural shows, I am not so sure but the Prairies and the Plains, while less stunning at first sight, last longer, fill the esthetic sense fuller, precede all the rest, and make North America’s characteristic landscape.”–Walt Whitman
*****
Spring merges into meteorological summer on the prairie. The days yo-yo between cloudless humid afternoons in the 90s and beautiful breezy days in the 70s. It’s a deceptively cool morning. None-the-less, it promises heat as I set out on my hike. I leave my old blue Honda on the two-track and make my way up a rocky hilltop.
The prairie puts on growth right now like a toddler outgrowing clothes. You feel as if sitting and watching the grass grow is a literal possibility.
Pale purple coneflowers press in on all sides in every possible stage of bloom. Fibonacci, anyone?
The prairie offers us the most when we offer it our time and our presence. Sit. Look. Look some more. Not everything has as much pizzazz as the coneflowers. The downy yellow painted cup makes up for what it lacks in vibrant color with originality.
It rubs shoulders with the uncommon short green milkweed, one of more than a dozen native milkweed species in Illinois—and a perfect “10” in Flora of the Chicago Region.
Homely, you say? No glamour other than its conservation value? Perhaps. Yet this milkweed is as welcome to a weary monarch butterfly looking to lay its eggs as its flashier counterpart, the orange butterfly weed, just about ready to bloom on the prairie.
Sure, the prairie has its share of eye-popping color right now.
But that’s not what necessarily draws us to it. The prairie satisfies us for the long haul with its interplay of wind and weather, pollinator and patterns. Grasses and gradients of color, birdsong and blooms.
It is deceptively simple.
As you spend time with the prairie, you begin to understand just how very complex it is.
Other stunning landscapes may wow you for a short while, but quickly lose their appeal. The prairie moves into your soul over time, sets up housekeeping, and endlessly satisfies you with its nuances. Look again. Listen.
As many have observed, the prairie doesn’t shout. But listen closely. It whispers.
And a whisper can be a powerful thing.
****
Walt Whitman (1819-1892) delivered the opening quote in this blogpost in a speech he prepared (but never gave) for a speaking engagement in Kansas on a trip out west in 1879-80. You can read more of his essay in “America’s Characteristic Landscape,” included in John T. Price’s edited collection of nature writing, The Tallgrass Prairie Reader (2014, University of Iowa Press, Bur Oak Books).
All photographs and video copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida) with Halictidae (sweat bee) (Agapostemon splendens), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; downy yellow painted cup (Castilleja sessiliflora), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; short green milkweed (Aslepias viridiflora) Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis) Henslow’s sparrow (Passerculus henslowii), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; white wild indigo (Baptisia alba macrophylla), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; familiar bluet damselfly, male (Enallagma civile), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; video of prairie ponds with dragonflies and birdsong, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; trail through Clear Creek Unit, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.
Grateful thanks to Susan Kleiman, Nachusa Grasslands, who generously gave me the gift of her time.
Tuesdays in the Tallgrass 
For me, prairie landscapes differ from the majestic ones because after outward spaciousness, its even bigger impact is found by looking downward for the small living worlds. A real package deal!
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Love the “little things!” Thank you for that reminder, Sandy. And thank you for reading!
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These words and descriptions of prairie speak to my heart. Thanks
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So glad, Kathy! Thank you for sharing your thoughts, and for reading this week.
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I love the little things. Thank you for magnifying these.
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Thank you for reading, Judi! There is so much in the small things…. so easy to miss, and so much to see. Grateful for your comments this week.
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Another prairie lover here in Texas just reading your blog for the first time! I love it! Can I sign up to receive it in my inbox? I’m the outreach coordinator for the Fort Worth Chapter of the Native Prairies Association of Texas. Look for us! I would love to hear more about your prairies. My husband is from Illinois, is that where you are located? Amazing work! Thanks for a small prairie respite!
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I love, love, love hearing from Texans who are engaged with prairies! Absolutely, there should be a “follow” button to click on the right hand top of your screen. If you don’t see it, send me an e-mail at phrelanzer@aol.com, and I’ll try to help further. Yes to Illinois — I live just outside of Chicago, and am a steward supervisor on the Morton Arboretum’s Schulenberg Prairie (100-acre planted prairie, fourth oldest in North America) and a steward at Nachusa Grasslands, a 4,000 acre TNC preserve in Franklin Grove, IL with bison. Thank YOU for reading, and taking time to comment. And thank you for your good work in Texas! I will look for you all. Do you have a FB page?
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