“It’s possible to understand the world from studying a leaf. You can comprehend the laws of aerodynamics, mathematics, poetry and biology through the complex beauty of such a perfect structure.” — Joy Harjo
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We wake up to fire and ice.
Crosby’s backyard prairie planting, Glen Ellyn, IL .
Worn-out leaves are alight with dawn; brushed with frost.
Cup plant (Silphium perfoliatum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The grass crackles with freeze as the rising sun illuminates each blade, sparks of light on a frigid morning. Swamp milkweed’s silk seed tufts are tattered almost beyond recognition by the night’s sharp whisper.
What a month of wonders you’ve given us to be grateful for.
Common evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
See you next year, November.
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Joy Harjo (1951-) is our 23rd Poet Laureate of the United States. A writer of the Muscogee (Creek) Nation, her words are often autobiographical, and incorporate myths and folklore. Her poetry makes you think (“I could hear my abandoned dreams making a racket in my soul”). Her books include Catching the Light, Poet Warrior, Crazy Brave, and An American Sunrise. I love this line from Secrets from the Center of the World where she writes, “I can hear the sizzle of newborn stars… .”
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Join Cindy for her last program of 2022!
Wednesday, December 7, 2022 (6:30-8:30 p.m.) 100 Years Around the Arboretum. Join Cindy and award-winning Library Collections Manager Rita Hassert for a fun-filled evening and a celebratory cocktail as we toast the closing month of The Morton Arboretum’s centennial year. In-person. Register here.
“Even then, I sensed that the buffalo signaled something profound….”–Dan O’Brien
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We followed the sandhill cranes south this weekend…
Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis) and sun halo, Glen Ellyn, IL (2016).
…as we traveled to central Indiana. The morning skies were an ever-changing source of awe, from the moment we started our drive at sunrise…
Sunrise over the interstate, just outside DuPage County, IL (cell phone image).
…to the beautiful morning cloud formations over the corn fields of the northwestern corner of the Hoosier state.
Headed south down Interstate 65 in Indiana. (Cell phone photograph).
And a lunar eclipse! Still to come.
A favorite stop when we travel this way is Kankakee Sands in Indiana’s northwest corner. This past Saturday, we celebrated “National Bison Day” honoring our official United States mammal, so it seemed like a no-brainer to carve out a few extra miles to see if we could get a glimpse of this charismatic megafauna.
Bison viewing area, Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
Kankakee Sands is a beautiful mosaic of wetlands and prairie, part of a greater conservation effort that includes about 20,000 acres. Within its acres are 86 rare, threatened, and endangered species.
Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
We don’t always see the bison when we stop, but this time, we were in luck.
Bison (Bison bison), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
What awe-inspiring creatures! Two young bison stuck close to their mama, while keeping an eye on us.
Bison (Bison bison), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
We watched another part of the herd run by in the distance. Bison can attain speeds of up to 35 mph. How can animals that can weigh more than 2,000 pounds move so quickly? What made them hurry to the other end of the prairie?
No idea. But they were fun to watch.
We took a few moments to walk the hiking trail at less-than-bison speed…
Trailhead at Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
…and stretched our legs after the long car journey. From the trail, we could observe some of the prairie plants in their full fall glory.
Hiking the trails at Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
Little bluestem is at its peak.
Little bluestem (Schizachryrium scoparium), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
What a glorious grass! Those rust hues. Those seeds, which spark the sunlight! It’s a lovely grass for home plantings, as well as on the larger landscape of the tallgrass prairie. I was reminded that I have three little bluestem plugs still waiting to be planted at home, sitting on my porch. Ha! Better get those in soon.
Little Bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
Tufted thistle swirled its seeds into the wind as we watched.
Pasture thistle (Cirsium discolor), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
The wind had also broken off mullein’s tall spikes…
The non-native common or great mullein (Verbascum thapsus), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
The native—but weedy—seedheads of evening primrose swayed in the breezes.
Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
On the hill at the end of the trail, a tall tree, denuded of most of its leaves, loomed in the dying light. Very November-esque.
Tree at Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
In the distance, white tailed deer mingled with the bison. They seemed content to share the prairie. Although we didn’t hear birdsong, we saw evidence of birds that were long gone south.
And then suddenly…a northern harrier cannonballed out of the grasses. Wow!
Northern harrier (Circuscyaneus), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
We watched it soar over the prairie; a fast-moving blur. It was quickly lost in the dying light.
Northern harrier (Circuscyaneus), Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
While we were startled by the owl-like northern harrier, the mama bison and her young ones placidly grazed in the tallgrass. For them, it was just another part of a normal evening on the prairie.
Bison (Bison bison) at Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
What a peaceful scene, yet full of surprises. I felt myself relax. The prairie has a way of reminding me what contentment feels like.
The most difficult part of going to Kankakee Sands is making the decision to leave, and face the last leg of traffic entering Chicago. So much beautiful prairie here, all around. What an worth-while place to stop for a hike.
Dusk at Kankakee Sands, Morocco, IN.
On the drive home, closing out our Sunday, we watched an almost-full moon rise over the 34-acre Biesecker Prairie as we waited at a stoplight for the light to change in St. John, Indiana. The prairie is right at the intersection.
Almost-full moon rise over Biesecker Prairie, St. John, IN (cell phone photo).
It was worth setting the alarm for. Pretty spectacular.
Full Beaver Blood Moon Lunar Eclipse with stars, 4:58 am, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Bison. A lunar eclipse. Prairies. What a wonderful way to begin the week. Who knows what other treats are in store?
I can’t wait to find out.
*****
The opening quote is from Buffalo for the Broken Heart by Dan O’Brien (1966-). The New York Times notes O’Brien has a “keen and poetic eye” as he writes about his struggles to raise bison on a Black Hills ranch. Read more about his life and work here.
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Close out 2022 by Joining Cindy for a Class or Program
Saturday, November 12, 2022 (1-2:30 p.m.) Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden, hosted by the Antioch Garden Club, Antioch, IL. In-person. Free and open to the public, but you must register. For information and to inquire about registering for the event, visit the garden club’s website here.
Wednesday, December 7, 2022 (6:30-8:30 p.m.) 100 Years Around the Arboretum. Join Cindy and Library Collections Manager Rita Hassert for a fun-filled evening and a celebratory cocktail as we toast the closing month of the Arboretum’s centennial year. In-person. Register here.
A very happy birthday to Trevor Dean Edmonson, site manager at Kankakee Sands, whose birthday is today! Thank you for the work you do!
“But what pencil has wandered over the grander scenes of the North American prairie? …I have gazed upon all the varied loveliness of my own, fair, native land, from the rising sun to its setting, and in vain have tasked my fancy to imagine a fairer. — Edmund Flagg
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Gray clouds slide across the sky. Low temperatures send us to our closets, looking for heavy sweaters and winter jackets.
Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
I’m tempted to stay inside. Duck out of any hiking.
Mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
But! Autumn is in full swing.
Native prairie and pollinator neighborhood planting, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Who would want to miss it?
Whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
October loves to surprise us. One day, it’s all sunshine and warmth, the next, there’s a hint of the Midwest winter to come.
College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
On the prairie this month, it’s all about the seeds. Fluffy seeds.
Butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) and prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Seeds in crackly coats.
Tall cinquefoil (Drymocallis arguta), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Seeds soft as silk.
Butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Seeds with the promise of a new generation.
Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Sure, there are still wildflowers in bloom.
Tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
And leaves full of color.
Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), College of DuPage Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Some leaves more beautiful than the flowers.
Prairie dock (Silphium terabinthinaceum), College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Forget the trees. The prairie stars in October’s fall color show.
College of DuPage, Russell R. Kirt Prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.
What a beautiful season to hike the tallgrass!
Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) and New England aster (Symphotrichum novae-angliae), neighborhood planting, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Why not go see?
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The opening quote is from The Tallgrass Prairie Reader, edited by John T. Price (University of Iowa Press), from Edmund Flagg, who wrote about the Illinois prairie in 1838.
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Upcoming Programs and Classes
Thursday, October 20, 2022 (10:15-11:30a.m.)—The Garden’s Frequent Fliers: Dragonflies and Damselflies, Lincolnshire Garden Club, Vernon Hills, Illinois. Closed event for members. For information on joining this garden club, please visit their website here.
Saturday, November 5, 2022 (10-11:30 am) —Winter Prairie Wonders, hosted by Wild Ones of Gibson Woods, Indiana, in-person and via Zoom. Cindy will be broadcasting from Illinois. For more information on registering for the Zoom or for in-person registration, visit them here.
Saturday, November 12, 2022 (1-2:30 p.m.)Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden, hosted by the Antioch Garden Club, Antioch, IL. Free and open to the public, but you must register. For information and to inquire about registering for the event, visit the Wild Ones here.
Wednesday, December 7, 2022 (6:30-8:30 p.m.) 100 Years Around the Arboretum. Join Cindy and Library Collections Manager Rita Hassert for a fun-filled evening and a celebratory cocktail as we toast the closing month of the Arboretum’s centennial year. Register here.
“When you come to a fork in the road, take it.”—Yogi Berra
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Autumn settles in for the long haul. Carmine and gold kiss the green-leaved trees overnight. Overhead, cerulean blue skies dotted with puffs signal mercurial weather.
Mackerel sky, Glen Ellyn, IL.
We wake this weekend to a light, patchy frost.
Ohio goldenrod (Solidago ohioense) with frost onCrosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
It zaps my basil and okra in the garden, but the zinnias…
Zinnias (Zinnia elegans ‘Cut and Come Again’), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
….and the kale don’t seem to mind too much.
Mixed kale (Brassica oleracea sp.), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The prairie planting shrugs it off.
Pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
What’s a little frost? No big deal. It’s all par for the season.
White wild indigo (Baptisia alba macrophylla), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
As the weather turns chilly, our hibernation instincts kick in. Put on a jacket and go for a walk? Or curl up with a book on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate? And yet, there are so many reasons to hike the tallgrass prairie in October. Here’s a little motivation to get us up off the couch and outside this week.
1. That color! The prairie draws with a full box of crayons in October, everything from blues…
Smooth blue aster (Symphyotrichum laeve), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Pale Indian plantain (Arnoglossumatriplicifolium), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
You might even discover autumn’s palette in a single leaf.
Prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
2. Flights of Fancy. Sure, the pollinator season is winding down. But the prairie still hums with life. Common eastern bumblebees lift off from every wildflower.
Common eastern bumblebee (Bombus impatiens), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Late monarchs still cycle through the prairie and my garden. Hurry! Hurry.
Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) on New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum (2021).
Everything in the season says “It’s late!” An empty nest, invisible during the growing season, signals the transition. I think of an old poem by John Updike, “the year is old, the birds have flown… .” The prairie shifts gear from growth to senescence.
Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
3. Stunning Seeds. Next year’s prairie floats on the breezes.
Pale Indian plantain (Arnoglossum atriplicifolium), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Other seeds wait to drop into the rich prairie soil.
The late summer prairie wildflowers are caught in the transition; some in seed, some in bloom, some still somewhere in between.
Blazing star (Liatris aspera) with sky blue asters (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
So much change! So much to see. And that’s just a taste of what’s waiting for you…
Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
…when you go for a hike on the October prairie.
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The opening quote is from baseball great Yogi Berra (1925-2015), who was known for his “Yogi-isms.” Another one of my favorites: “You can observe a lot by watching.”
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Join Cindy for a class or program this Autumn!
Tuesday, October 11, 2022 (7-8:30 p.m.)—The Tallgrass Prairie; An Introduction hosted by Twig & Bloom Garden Club, Glen Ellyn, IL. This is a closed event for members. For information on joining the club, visit their Facebook page here.
Friday, October 14, 2022 (10-11 a.m.)—-A Brief History of Trees in America. Discover the enchanting role trees have played in our nation’s history. Think about how trees are part of your personal history, and explore trees’ influence in American literature, music, and culture. Hosted by the Elgin Garden Club and the Gail Borden Public Library District, Main Branch, 270 North Grove Avenue, Meadows Community Rooms. In person. Free and open to the public, but you must register. Find more information here.
Thursday, October 20, 2022 (10:15-11:30a.m.)—The Garden’s Frequent Fliers: Dragonflies and Damselflies, Lincolnshire Garden Club, Vernon Hills, IL. This is a closed event for members only. For information on joining this club, please visit their website here.
Nature Writing II –Four Thursdays–October 27, November 3, 10, and 17, 2022, (9 to 11:30 a.m., in-person). Offered by The Morton Arboretum. Experiment with a variety of styles and techniques as you continue to develop your own voice. The same qualities of good writing apply to everything from blogs to books! No matter your background or interest, become the writer you always dreamt you could be. Register here.
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Save Bell Bowl Prairie! Click here to see what you can do to help persuade airport officials to preserve this important Illinois prairie remnant.
Beautiful Schulenberg Prairie Photo Exhibit! Local friends—don’t miss the MAPS special exhibit: “Seasons of the Schulenberg Prairie”, commemorating its 60th year. Sponsored by The Morton Arboretum from October 12-16. Free with Arboretum admission. For details, click here.
“Tallgrass in motion is a world of legato.” — Louise Erdrich
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September closes out the month with sunny afternoons. Crisp evenings. Nights dip into the 40s. Flannel shirts make their way to the front of the closet, although my sandals are still by the door. It’s a time of transition.
Wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium) and Ohio goldenrod (Oligoneuron ohioense), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
About an hour before sunset this weekend, I saw a sundog to the west from my front porch. So bright!
Sundog, Crosby’s house, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Down south, hurricane season is in full swing. Here, in the Midwest, the air teases with the promise of… frost? Already?
Common mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum) with an unidentified insect (possibly Neortholomus scolopax), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Surely not. And yet. Who knows?
Sky blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
In the garden, the green beans have succumbed to fungal rust. Although my beans have flirted with it before, I think my decision to grow pole beans too densely on a trellis without good air circulation likely led to the disease. My bean season has come to an end, it seems. Ah, well. Wait until next year.
The cherry tomatoes continue to offer handfuls of fruit…
…and the mixed kale, planted this spring, seems delighted with the cooler weather.
Mixed kale (Brassica oleracea), Crosby’s garden, Glen Ellyn, IL.
In the herb garden, the sweet basil, thyme, dill, and Italian parsley are at their peak.
Italian parsley (Petroselinum crispum), Crosby’s garden, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The promise of coming frost means the rosemary needs to come inside. Rosemary is a tender perennial in my garden zone 5B, and needs to spend the winter by the kitchen sink.
Meanwhile, while the prairies in my region are dominated by tallgrass, our backyard prairie patch is adrift in panicled asters, new England asters, and—sigh—Canada goldenrod going to seed. Where have my grasses gone? A few lone cordgrass stems are about all I see. I’m a big fan of goldenrod, but not Canada goldenrod, that greedy gold digger. At least the pollinators are happy.
In the midst of the tangle of asters, a lone prairie dock lifts its seed heads more than six feet high. Most of my Silphiums–prairie dock, compass plant, and cup plant—kept a low profile this season. There are several prairie dock plants in the prairie patch, but only one flowered.
Prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Despite the Canada goldenrod run amuck in the backyard, I’m delighted with the three new goldenrods I planted this season in the front: Ohio goldenrod, stiff goldenrod, and showy goldenrod. Of the three, the showy goldenrod has surprised me the most. Such splendid blooms! I’ve seen it on the prairie before, almost buried in tallgrass, but in the home garden it really shines.
Showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) with a common eastern bumblebee (Bombus impatiens), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The bumblebees are nuts about it.
Showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa) with three common eastern bumblebees (Bombus impatiens), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
As I amble around the yard, admiring the colors with which autumn is painting the world, there’s a glimpse of red. A cardinal flower? Blooming this late in the season? It’s escaped the pond border and found a new spot on the sunny east-facing hill. What a delightful splash of scarlet, even more welcome for being unexpected.
October is so close, you can almost taste the pumpkin spice lattes and Halloween candy. The prairie plantings shimmer with seed. The natural world is poised for transition. A leap into the dark. Shorter days. Longer nights. A slow slide into the cold.
Blazing star (Liatris aspera), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The opening quote is from Louise Erdrich (1954-) and her essay “Big Grass” in The Tallgrass Prairie Reader (2014) edited by John T. Price (and originally from a Nature Conservancy collection Heart of the Land: Essays on Last Great Places, 1994). It’s one of my favorite essays in prairie literature.
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Join Cindy for a program or class this autumn!
Friday, October 14, 2022 (10-11 a.m.)—-A Brief History of Trees in America. Discover the enchanting role trees have played in our nation’s history. Think about how trees are part of your personal history, and explore trees’ influence in American literature, music, and culture. Hosted by the Elgin Garden Club and the Gail Borden Public Library District, Main Branch, 270 North Grove Avenue, Meadows Community Rooms. In person. Free and open to the public, but you must register. Find more information here.
“Listen!—it rains; it rains! The prayer of the grass is heard… .” –Frederick J. Atwood
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Rain stormed in with lights and fireworks this weekend, bringing long-needed relief to the Chicago western suburbs. And, a few flooded basements. This was substantial rain; rain that meant business. Rain that overflowed creek and river banks. Rain that soaked deep.
In the prairie planting, asters and goldenrod bowed under the water’s weight. Great blue lobelia and black-eyed Susans, at the mercy of my garden hose for the past week, perked up at a chance for real water. Rain.
Great blue lobelia (Lobelia silphilitum) and black-eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Spider webs sprang into view, bedazzled by raindrops.
Spider web, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
In the front yard prairie pollinator planting, I parted the sodden flowers of showy goldenrod. Deep inside were sheltering insects, including one rain-soaked bumblebee.
Common eastern bumblebee (Bombus impatiens) on showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
As the clouds passed and the flowers dried, pollinators shook off the wet and took wing. I spent some time on iNaturalist and with various online insect guides before naming this one below. I believe it is the transverse banded drone fly, sometimes called a “flower fly.”
Possibly the transverse banded drone fly (Eristalis transversa), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.Corrections welcome!
I’m still learning insect ID (thanks, gentle readers, for your correction of the wasp to the hover fly in last week’s blog), so I’m not 100 percent certain. But by any name, it’s a stunning little insect.
Showers brought out sky blue aster blooms in my front yard planting. I’m delighted to see the three plants I put in this spring made it to the fall finish line, after being nibbled almost to death by rabbits all summer.
Sky blue aster (Symphyotrichum oolentangiense), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The scientific name of this aster—Symphyotrichum oolentangiense—is a mouthful. Originally, the name was in honor of Ohio’s Olentangy River by botanist John Riddell, but the river’s name was misspelled. For a short time, the New York National Heritage Program tells us it was Aster azureus, which is much easier for naturalists like myself to pronounce, until the genus became Symphyotrichum. Ah, well. Nobody said botany would be easy.
I was grateful beyond words for the rainfall, but also, for the cooler, sunny weather of the past week. Meals moved back to the patio as the temperatures swung from “steamy” to “crisp and cool.” This gave us a a front row seat this weekend to keep an eye on the moonflower vine, whose two buds we’ve been watching with rapt attention.
No, it’s not a native plant. But I make a place for it in my prairie garden each season. It’s a long wait from the direct sowing the seeds to that first flower. About two months, most seasons. This year it has been a little longer, likely because of the dry weather, and of the five or so seeds I planted, only one survived. Just this week I noticed it had leapt from the trellis by the patio to the arborvitae. That’s a first! Usually I wind the vining tendrils up and down and across the trellis. This one got away from me.
On Saturday, after reading on the back porch for a while, I put down my book on the patio table and went in to fix dinner. When I brought out dinner, one of the moonflower buds had opened. Wow! Jeff and I “oohhed” and “aahhed” as our dinner cooled and we admired the first bloom of the season. It must have been waiting for the Harvest Moon to open. Our moonflower has a light fragrance, something like vanilla. After dark, I went to admire it one last time before bed.
The song “Nights in White Satin” comes to mind. We never have very many moonflowers; frost kicks in around the first or second week of October in our part of Illinois and crumples the vine just as it gets going in earnest. Each bloom only lasts one night. By morning, this one was only a memory. Such a fleeting pleasure! Is it worth it to give it a space? I’ve always thought so. Night-blooming flowers are rare in my region, and this one’s a beauty.
However, not all vines give me this much pleasure. Last week I mentioned I was besieged with the non-native perennial vine sweet autumn clematis (Clematis terniflora). It covers part of my garden like a snowdrift. Or maybe kudzu. The doc says I can’t pull weeds for three more weeks, so I can only stand back and sigh. At least it smells pretty! But, it is suffocating my two pricey spice bush saplings, my blazing star, my white wild indigo, my….well, you get the idea. It’s out of control. It makes my rambunctious native arrow-leaved asters look well-behaved.
Arrow-leaved aster (Symphyotrichum sagittifolium) with sweet autumn clematis (Clematis terniflora) in the background, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
I wrote last week that I was considering replacing the sweet autumn clematis next year with virgin’s bower (Clematis virginiana), an Illinois native. One of the reasons I love being a part of the prairie and garden community is learning from my readers, who sent me emails and comments this week strongly recommending against it. Evidently, virgin’s bower plays nicely on prairies and savanna edges, but goes berserk when planted in some home gardens. Espie Nelson, one of my favorite prairie experts (and long time steward with her husband, Don) wrote to me saying one of her native virgin’s bower vines had taken over a 15 foot area in her yard. She plans on totally eliminating it this season. Another reader, Mary, told me virgin’s bower is a “thug.” She had to pull it out when it invaded a neighbor’s yard.
As Espie wisely wrote me, “Don’t trade one exotic plant for a native plant that has the same vigorous growth patterns.” Good advice. I’ll enjoy virgin’s bower in my favorite natural areas, and not in my yard. Looks like I’ll invest in more non-vining natives, instead.
Blazing star (Liatris aspera) with a common eastern bumblebee (Bombus impatiens), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Meanwhile, another reason for dining on the back porch—besides watching moonflowers—is migration. Monarchs are moving through, although my backyard has only attracted them one at a time. Jeff and I saw a small swarm of common green darner dragonflies massing over the backyard this weekend, doubtlessly headed south. Cornell University said it also expected us to see “massive” bird movement this past weekend, with an estimated 316 million to 400-plus million migrating birds moving through each night across the United States. If I sat on the patio and squinted against the bright blue sky, I could make out a few birds high up, moving south.
Courtesy Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Facebook Page, 9-9-22.
I filled the feeders, and crossed my fingers. But, the backyard seemed to only harbor the usual suspects; goldfinches pulling out cup plant and hyssop seeds for their supper, and a few hummingbirds browsing the zinnias….
Hummingbirds seem to be everywhere right now, passing through my backyard on their way to Mexico and Panama. Can you find the one in my next-door neighbor’s oak tree? It’s scoping out the competition at my nectar feeders.
Ruby-throated hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) having a “where’s Waldo” moment in the neighbor’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Hummingbirds arrive around the end of April in Chicago’s western suburbs and vanish by mid-October. I’ll miss their whizz-whirr of wings and their tiny chirps when they’re gone.
We’ll have to enjoy other backyard wildlife. Chipmunks, perhaps. They’ve set up house under the patio, and play tag across the patio as I drink my coffee in the mornings. And the squirrels, busy burying their nuts in the lawn.
Eastern fox squirrel (Sciurus niger), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Yep. We won’t lack for squirrels. Too bad ours are so camera shy.
Eastern fox squirrel (Sciurus niger), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
We’ve learned not to leave breakfast on the patio table unattended. Ahem.
Speaking of food. In last week’s post, I mentioned something about the tomatoes “slowing production.” The garden must have been listening. Although the tomatoes are indeed slowing down, and Jeff pulled some of the plants that won’t set anymore ripe fruit before frost, the pole beans are pumping out Kentucky Wonders at a steady rate. There’s also plethora of sweet peppers that needed picked…
Giant marconi sweet peppers (Capsicum annuum)—-these were all on two plants in one picking. Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
…and the thornless ichiban and prickly black beauty eggplants are in overdrive. This summer, I planted two plants on my south wall of the porch, with concrete at their feet. It’s the hottest spot in the garden.
Black beauty eggplant (Solanum melongena‘Black Beauty’) foreground) and ichiban eggplant (Solanum melongena ‘Ichiban’ right), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
I’ve picked almost a dozen in the past week, which is more eggplant than I know what to do with. After giving some away, I tried making the Mediterranean dip baba ganoush for the first time. Loosely following a recipe from Cookie & Kate, I cut the eggplants in half, brushed them with olive oil, then roasted them at 450 degrees Fahrenheit for 45 minutes. When they cooled, I scooped out and strained the insides, then mixed the goop with tahini (a sesame seed paste), fresh garlic and parsley from the garden, a little cumin, and lemon juice. Yum! It’s now my favorite way to eat eggplant. And it uses up a lot!
Baba Ganoush and Stonefire Naan rounds.
As I walk around the garden and prairie, I’m aware of the lowering slant of the sun, the cooling temps. Monarchs and dragonflies heading south. Prairie wildflowers and grasses going to seed.
Wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium), Crosby’s front yard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
September is a dynamic month, exploding with color and change. I’m glad I’ve got a front row seat, here in my backyard prairie and garden.
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Words from Kansas poet Frederick J. Atwood’s poem “The Breaking of the Drought” (1902, Kansas Rhymes and Other Lyrics) open the blog today. This short poem continues: The thirsty ground drinks eagerly; As a famished man eats bread; The moan of the trees is hushed; And the violets under the banks; Lift up their heads so gratefully; And smilingly give thanks. Thanks to Kansas on the Net for republishing the poem.
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Join Cindy for a Program or Class this Autumn!
Monday, September 19 –-A Brief History of Trees in America, Downers Grove Garden Club, Downers Grove, IL. In-person, free and open to the public, but please visit here for details and Covid protocol.
Saturday, September 24 —In-Person Writing and Art Retreat at The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL, Spend a day immersed in nature with guided writing and art workshops. Set aside time to disconnect from the day-to-day and focus on the natural world through writing and art. Sessions will explore nature journaling, sketching, developing observation skills, and tapping into your creativity. Throughout the day, you will learn from professional writers and artists, take in the sites of the Arboretum, and explore nature with fellow creatives. Appropriate for all levels. Cindy will be teaching the morning sessions. Click here for more information, Covid protocol, and to register (only a few spaces left!).
“Things take the time they take. Don’t worry.”—Mary Oliver
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August takes its last steamy, stormy breaths.
Cumulonimbus clouds.
Tumultuous sunsets send me to the porch each evening to watch the show.
Sunset.
An unexpected health setback means no big hikes for a while. Instead, I go for walks around the yard. There is so much to see.
Look at the determination of this insect, making a beeline for the blazing star.
Possibly a Spurred Ceratina Carpenter Bee (Ceratina calcarata) headed for Rough Blazing Star (Liatris aspera).
I like its single-minded focus on what’s in front of it. A reminder to pay attention to what I can do, instead of what I can’t do right now.
And what’s this? A Marine Blue Butterfly sips nectar in the front yard prairie planting. Earlier, I saw one of these “rare strays” to Illinois at Nachusa Grasslands, 90 miles west. But that was on a 4,000 acre mosaic of prairies, woodlands, and wetlands, where you might expect to encounter an unusual insect. I’m stunned to see this butterfly in my small suburban front yard.
Marine Blue Butterfly (Leptotes marina) on Rough Blazing Star (Liatris aspera).
Would I have noticed this tiny, nondescript butterfly if I was busy with my normal prairie and dragonfly hikes in the bigger preserves? Probably not. Maybe it’s a reminder that “there’s no place like home.”
Common Eastern Bumblebee (Bombus impatiens) on Cut and Come Again Zinnia (Zinnia pumila).
My sneezeweed, now in its second year, is covered with winged creatures. I try my phone app iNaturalist on them for identification, but none of my ID’s feel certain. The insect world is so big, and my ID skills are so limited.
Common Sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale ) with (possibly) Spurred Ceratina Carpenter Bees (Ceratina calcarata).
As I walk, there’s a loud chatter at the feeders. A downy woodpecker stops mid-peck to see what all the fuss is about.
Downy Woodpecker (Dryobates pubescens).
A noisy goldfinch and furious hummingbird battle over the hummingbird feeder. A water moat keeps ants from plundering the sugar water. The goldfinch seems to think the water moat is his personal watering hole. The hummer wants a nip of nectar.
American Goldfinch (Spinus tristis) and Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris).
The winner!
American Goldfinch (Spinus tristis).
The defeated hummingbird brushes by my head in a whir of wings on his way to the neighbor’s feeder. I follow him with my eyes. And then I see it.
Hummingbird Clearwing Moth (Hemaris thysbe)on Cut and Come Again Zinnia (Zinnia pumila).
Not a hummingbird—but a Hummingbird Clearwing Moth! Its wings are mostly a blur as it works the zinnias.
Hummingbird Clearwing Moth (Hemaris thysbe)on Cut and Come Again Zinnia (Zinnia pumila).
One of the reasons I include non-native zinnias in my backyard plant mix is as nectar sources for hummingbirds, moths, butterflies, and bees. I watch this day-flying moth hover over flower after flower for a long time, marveling at its downy body and gorgeous wings.
Hummingbird Clearwing Moth (Hemaris thysbe)on Cut and Come Again Zinnia (Zinnia pumila).
When it flies away, I check the pond for visitors. Two frogs keep watch.
Froggie love(possibly Lithobates catesbeianus).
Kitschy, yup. But they started life in my grandparent’s garden, and now, they attend to mine. It’s a connection to the past that never fails to make me smile.
European Green Bottle Fly (Lucilia sericata) on Black-Eyed Susan (Rudbeckia sp.).
A wasp nestles into the marsh marigold leaves. For the millionth time, I wish I knew more about wasp ID. Wasps are such a large group of insects! I believe it’s a paper wasp. You can see where the old-fashioned phrase “wasp waisted” comes from.
Possibly an Umbrella Paper Wasp (Polistes sp.) on Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris).
A Margined Calligrapher—a type of hover fly—rests on Garlic Chive blooms. The chives, much like my pink garden Chives, have popped up all over the garden and close to the pond. Such a delicate insect!
Margined Calligrapher (Toxomerus marginatus), a type of hover fly, on Garlic Chives (Allium tuberosum).
Almost a dozen Great Blue Lobelia blooms are “blue-ming” around the water, and the insects approve.
Spurred Ceratina Carpenter Bee (Ceratina calcarata) visiting Great Blue Lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica).
A carpenter bee seems as enamored of it as I am. The flowers are deep sapphire! So very blue.
An hour walking through the prairie garden has a way of taking care of that. Even if only for the moment.
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The opening quote is by Mary Oliver (1935-2019) from her poem, “Don’t Worry” (Felicity). Although much of her poetry is set in New England and Ohio, her love of nature and ability to connect with the physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects of our lives through her words transcends geography. Read more here.
***All photos in today’s post are from the Crosby’s prairie plantings and garden in Glen Ellyn, IL.
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Join Cindy for a Program or Class this Autumn
Saturday, September 24 —In-Person Writing and Art Retreat at The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL: Spend a day immersed in nature with guided writing and art workshops. Set aside time to disconnect from the day-to-day and focus on the natural world through writing and art. Sessions will explore nature journaling, sketching, developing observation skills, and tapping into your creativity. Throughout the day, you will learn from professional writers and artists, take in the sites of the Arboretum, and explore nature with fellow creatives. Appropriate for all levels. Cindy will be teaching the morning sessions. Join me! Click here for more information and to register.
Rusty-patched Bumblebee (Bombus affiinis)on purple coneflower (Echinacea purpurea)Big Rock, IL.(2021)
Ambling beetles browse the petals.
Margined Leatherwing Beetle (Chauliognathus marginatus) on Common Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum), Ware Field Prairie Planting, Lisle, IL (2019).
Enjoy the aimless ants. Marvel over the butterflies, looking like so many windsurfers…
Orange Sulphur butterflies (Colias eurytheme), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL (2014).
Where would we be without these marvelous creatures?
Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) on Orange Jewelweed (Impatiens capensis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL (2021)
Three cheers for the prairie pollinators!
Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
Long may they thrive.
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The opening quote for today’s post is by Illinois author Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) from his classic book, Dandelion Wine. This book was required reading in my Midwestern high school English classes back in the seventies, and a wonderful introduction to his more than 27 novels and story collections.
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Join Cindy for a Program in August!
West Cook Wild Ones presents:A Brief History of Trees in Americawith Cindy Crosby on Sunday, August 21, 2:30-4 p.m. Central Time on Zoom. From oaks to maples to elms: trees changed the course of American history. Native Americans knew trees provided the necessities of life, from food to transportation to shelter. Trees built America’s railroads, influenced our literature and poetry, and informed our music. Discover the roles of a few of our favorite trees in building our nation—and their symbolism and influence on the way we think—as you reflect on the trees most meaningful to you. Free and open to the public—join from anywhere in the world—but you must preregister. Register here.
“Why are wildflowers so important to us who care for flowers? …to encounter them in their natural habitat is an extraordinary aesthetic pleasure… .” — Katharine S. White
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Hello, June! I can’t wait to see what you have in store.
In my backyard this week, an eastern blue jay has commandeered the peanut feeder. Jays tend to be, well, a little possessive, so the other songbirds aren’t as delighted as we are about this. The striking sapphire and cerulean blue feathers bring Jeff and me to the kitchen window to watch it, every time.
Eastern blue jay (Cyanocitta cristata), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
It’s interesting to note that the “blues” we see are actually brown. The Cornell Lab tells me the brown pigment in the feathers, called melanin, look blue because of “light scattering” (read more here). Who knew? Evidently, the “blue” we see in other birds such as indigo buntings and bluebirds is also an optical illusion. Cool!
I remember when the Corvids were nearly wiped out by West Nile Virus almost two decades ago—and you didn’t see a jay or a crow anywhere. Now, when I hear a blue jay calling from the trees or see one at the backyard feeder I feel my spirits lift. It’s a story with a happy ending. We could use more of those.
Out on the prairie, a field sparrow sways on a new white wild indigo spear, singing its accelerating series of notes. I have trouble telling sparrows apart, so hearing the song always helps.
Field sparrow (Spizella pusilla) on white wild indigo (Baptisia alba), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Deep in the grasses I spy my first calico pennant dragonfly of the season. I don’t like to say I have favorites, but… how could I not?
I discover another little critter strolling through the prairie phlox blossoms. Can you find it?
Prairie phlox (Phlox pilosa) with a critter, possibly the obscure plant bug (Plagiognathus obscurus), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
And nearby, a carolina saddlebags dragonfly perches on an old plant stalk, soaking up sunlight. We don’t see many of this species here, so it’s always a treat.
Carolina saddlebags dragonfly (Tramea carolina), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
Compass plant leaves, backlit by the sun, are a reminder of their towering flowers which will dominate the prairie in July.
Many of the first spring wildflowers are focused on setting seed. Wood betony’s tall stalks remind me of corn on the cob with the kernels gnawed off.
Wood betony (Pendicularis canadensis), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL. Plus a tiny ant!Species unknown.
Nearby in the savanna, the snakeroot hums with more insect activity.
Common black snakeroot (Sanicula odorata) with one of the mining bees (Andrena sp.), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.
Nearby a pasture rose opens, flushed with pink.
Pasture rose (Rosa carolina), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
What a pleasure it is to hike the prairie in early June!
Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
Why not go see?
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The opening quote is from Katharine S. White (1892-1977) from her only book, Onward and Upward in the Garden. White began working at The New Yorker in 1925, where she served as editor for 34 years. She shaped the magazine in a way that is still felt today.She married E.B. White, a writer at the magazine, who wrote many books including Stuart Little and Charlotte’s Web; he was also the co-author of Elements of Style. Katharine’s book includes some lively critique of 1950’s seed and garden catalogs–fun reading.
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Join Cindy for a Program or Event
Tuesday, June 7, 7-8:30 p.m.:The Garden’s Frequent Fliers: Dragonflies and Damselflies, Crestwood Garden Club, Elmhurst, IL. (Closed in-person event for members; to become a member visit them here ).
Wednesday, June 8, 7-8:30 p.m.Lawn Chair Lecture: The Schulenberg Prairie’s 60th Anniversary. The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. Bring your lawn chair and enjoy sunset on the prairie as you hear about the people, plants, and creatures that have made this prairie such a treasure. Tickets are limited: Register here. (Note: This event may be moved inside if inclement weather makes it advisable; participants will be notified).
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If you love the natural world, consider helping “Save Bell Bowl Prairie.” Read more here about simple actions you can take to keep this important Midwestern prairie remnant from being destroyed by a cargo road. Thank you for caring for our Midwestern “landscape of home”!
“By planting flowers one invites butterflies… .” —Zhang Chao
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At last! It’s time to plant the garden. I’ve been slowed this month by a heat wave which threatened to scorch my tender six-packs of seedlings, set out on the porch to harden off. Now, cloudy, drizzly, and cooler days are in the forecast—without frost. Or so it seems. (Please don’t zap me, Mr. Jack Frost, for feeling optimistic.)
Rain and heat have pushed the prairies into spectacular spring bloom.
Shooting Star at Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
Seeing all the spring prairie wildflowers inspires me to want to plant more prairie at home. After digging our first front yard prairie patch last week, I’m already in expansion mode. I dropped in on two local native plant sales Friday (you know…just to look) and came home with a trunk-load of more prairie plants and no clear idea where they would go.
Short green milkweed (Asclepias viridiflora), Glen Ellyn, IL.
In a dry and partially shady spot next to the backyard patio went three native wild columbine, a jacob’s ladder, and two prairie alumroot. They join a single alumroot next to the existing prairie smoke, three prairie coreopsis, and single butterfly milkweed planted a few years ago.
It’s not all natives by the patio. There are two clematis, a vining honeysuckle transplanted from a garden move a few years ago, a petite daylily gifted by a friend, and fire-engine red oriental poppies, which reliably bloom by Memorial Day each spring.
Oriental poppy (Papaver orientale), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL (2018).
There’s also one old gloriously fragrant rosebush that came with the house more than two decades ago that I can’t talk myself into getting rid of. But slowly, the balance is tipping toward natives, instead of the traditional garden plants.
Plant sale prairie plant plunder, Glen Ellyn, IL.
I love prairie alumroot for its gorgeous leaves, which look good all year round. There will be tiny greenish blooms on the existing plant any day now. The newcomers may need a little time to flower.
Prairie alumroot (Heuchera richardsonii), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL. And yup — thats a rogue dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) in the background.
A little turf stripping, some plant shuffling and it’s time to add more prairie plants to the expanded front yard prairie plot. As I tap out the plants from their containers, it’s interesting to see the butterfly milkweed roots which give it the species name tuberosa, meaning “swollen” or “tuberous.”
Butterfly milkweed, wild quinine, prairie brome, and common mountain mint all find a seat. I’m already planning next year’s expansion, and thinking of plants I wish I purchased. So many plants…too little budget.
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After planting prairie in the yard, there’s nothing quite as inspiring as visiting the real thing. Jeff and I spent Saturday touring some native prairie remnants 90 minutes away with the wonderful folks of the Illinois Native Plant Society (INPS), Northeast Chapter). Our first stop was Flora Prairie in Boone County.
Flora Prairie Preserve, Boone County, IL.
This 10-acre gravel remnant echoes the quarries that surround it.
Flora Prairie Preserve, Boone County, IL.
Shooting star dot the wooded area as well as the prairie.
Shooting star (Primula meadia), Flora Prairie Preserve, Boone County, IL.
Jack in the pulpit pops up in the shade.
Jack in the pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
A profusion of prairie violets is in full bloom.
Prairie violets (Viola pedatifida), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
The sunny areas are patched with prairie smoke…
Prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
…some going to seed and showing its namesake feature.
Prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
There are other treasures as well, such as fringed puccoon…
Fringed puccoon (Lithospermum incisum), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
…and its more common cousin, hoary puccoon.
Hoary puccoon (Lithospermum canescens), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
As we hiked, Jeff and I saw our first monarch of the season. It moved so fast, it was only a blur in the grasses. A good omen for the season ahead? I hope so!
Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
We followed this prairie visit with a visit to Beach Cemetery Prairie, a three-and-a-half acre remnant in the shadow of two nuclear towers in Ogle County.
Shooting star (Primula meadia), Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
As we hiked this gravel kame, surrounded by agricultural fields, I was reminded of how critical these last remaining prairie remnants are. We need them to remind us of what Illinois used to be.
Prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
We need these prairie remnants to remind us what we’ve lost.
Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
They are also time capsules; models which help us plan and carry out future prairie restorations. They help us understand how original prairies functioned, and what plant associates naturally grow together in the wild.
Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
This was our first tour with the INPS, and we learned from several knowledgeable and enthusiastic people in the group more about the prairie plants that make Illinois “the prairie state.” Kudos! If you live in Illinois, check these folks out here and consider joining even if only to support their efforts. It wasn’t lost on us that both prairies we visited this weekend are a stone’s throw from Bell Bowl Prairie, another dry gravel hill prairie remnant, which is slated to be destroyed by an Amazon cargo service road at Chicago-Rockford International Airport. You can read more about that here. Seeing these two prairies was a reminder of what is lost when we lose sight of what is most important.
Shooting star, Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL.
So many gorgeous wildflowers! So much Illinois history. We came away awed over Illinois’ prairie heritage, and with a renewed desire to reflect more of it in our small suburban yard. Seeing these prairies for just a few hours, admiring the diversity of wildflowers and fauna…
Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum) with a tiny critter, Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
…and thinking about the 22 million acres of original tallgrass prairie in Illinois that has been lost was a reminder that without more people visiting these beautiful places, falling in love with them, and advocating for them, we will lose more of our landscape of home to development or neglect. Planting prairie in our yard is a way to learn the plants at every stage of their development, and discover their stories and their pollinator associates. It’s also a reminder to keep the idea of prairie at the forefront of people’s hearts and minds.
Violet sorrel (Oxalis violacea) with tiny insects, possibly the metallic wood boring beetles (Acmaeodera tubulus), Flora Prairie, Boone County, IL.
I’m already making my prairie plant list for next year.
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The opening quote by Zhang Chao (1650-1707) is from his book, Quiet Dream Shadows, a collection of essays that focus on nature.
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Join Cindy for a program or class!
Wednesday, May 18, 12:30-2 pm:100 Years Around the Arboretum (With Rita Hassert), Morton Arboretum Volunteer Zoom Event (Closed to the public).
Thursday, May 26, 10:30am-noon: Stained Glass Stories of the Thornhill Mansion,in person at The Morton Arboretum. Open to the public. Register here.
Thursday, May 26, 6:30-8 pm: Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden, hosted by Old St. Patrick’s Church Green Team on Zoom. Register here.
Sunday,June 5, 2-3:30 pm: Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers, Downers Grove Public Library and Downers Grove Garden Club. Kick off National Garden Week with this in-person event! Open to the public. Click here for more information.
Cindy Crosby is the author, compiler, or contributor to more than 20 books. Her most recent is "Chasing Dragonflies: A Natural, Cultural, and Personal History" (Northwestern University Press, 2020). She teaches prairie ecology, nature writing, and natural history classes, and is a prairie steward who has volunteered countless hours in prairie restoration. See Cindy's upcoming online speaking events and classes at www.cindycrosby.com.
Tuesdays in the Tallgrass 