March Prairie Madness

“The more concerned we become with the things we can’t control, the less we will do with the things we can control.” —John Wooden

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Come hike with me, as March’s sunshine duels with storms and rainbows. Let’s get away from the news for while.

Glen Ellyn, IL.

March weather means brace for turbulence. Each forecast hangs by a thread…

Most likely a bald-faced hornet (Dolichovespula maculata) nest, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

… and may change from moment to moment. When you’re inside watching college basketball you don’t notice the weather so much. But on a long hike! The weather is the thing. You check the sky each moment for clues about what the weather will throw at you next.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

So much going on along the trail. Mosses greening up…

Possibly seductive entodon moss (Entodon seductrix), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

…while fungi fans out orange on the fallen logs…

Fungi (possibly crowded parchment? (Stereum complicatum) mixed with mosses and lichens at Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

…and lichens crochet circles on the tree trunks.

Greenshield lichen (Flavoparmelia sp.), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

A few trees are eviscerated by prescribed fire, a different “March madness” that consumes all natural resource stewards and staff in the spring. There’s only a short window to put the flames on the ground; rejuvenating our woodlands and prairies. Will the weather cooperate?

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Other trees are poised between dormancy and leaf-out. Soon the woods will be misted with emerald. It’s the pause before the big dance between dormancy and awakening.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Rains and snowmelt have left large pools of standing water. No chorus frogs…yet. Too cold today.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Limestone trails are sloppy; the chalky slush clings to my hiking shoes.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

In the prairie ponds, a blue-winged teal paddles alone, back from its winter vacation down south.

Blue-winged teal (Anas discors), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen this duck species. What a pleasure to find one amid the common mallards, dabbling for goodies under the water’s surface! Although mallards are pretty handsome birds.

Mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Overhead, the first killdeer fly by, uttering their strange eerie cries. Feathers caught in the grasses and shrubs hint at other birds, still unseen.

Unknown bird’s feather, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Large flocks of sandhill cranes pass over, calling to each other as they scrawl their calligraphy in the sky.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Waves and waves and waves of sandhill cranes… .

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

As Jeff and I hike the seemingly endless trail under a shifting platinum sky, the sun occasionally illuminates the prairies around us. Then retreats. Deep in the grasses, white-tailed deer herd themselves from prairie to woodland. We count them as they spring across the prairie. Three…five…ten…thirteen.

White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Then, they noiselessly vanish into the woods.

I turn my attention to the grasses. Can I identify the prairie plants in various states of decomposition?

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

I try. Tall coreopsis.

Tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Indian hemp.

Dogbane or Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Indian grass.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Wild bergamot.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Common milkweed.

Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

And—a jumble of other plants in various stages of senescence.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

The soft, fuzzy common mullein, one of the forest’s aliens, push up toward warmth and sunlight.

The non-native common mullein (Verbascum thapsus), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Garlic mustard, another unwanted invader, announces its presence with its bright green leaves. Lots of stewardship work ahead.

Non-native garlic mustard (Alliaria petiolata), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Such a juxtaposition! The bright emerald growth of spring. The russets and taupes; ochres and chocolates of last year’s grasses, woody plants, and wildflowers.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

March is a season of transition. It’s ripe for the possibility of change.

The southwest skies darken. Wind ripples the grasses. We pick up our pace, feeling the aches and pains of almost five miles on the trail.

Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Out of breath, we reach the parking lot just in time. The first rumbles of thunder and raindrops are minutes away.

It’s the end of March on the prairie.

Bluebird house, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Out with the old.

Fungi (possibly Daedaleopsis of some sort) and various lichen (Physiaceae), Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Waiting for something new.

Bird’s nest, Herrick Lake Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

April is a breath away. Another month to start fresh.

Glen Ellyn, IL.

Another month to wait, work, and hope for change.

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John Wooden (1910-2010), “The Wizard of Westwood,” is best known for winning ten NCAA national basketball championships— and a record seven in a row —during his tenure as coach with the UCLA Bruins.

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Join Cindy for a class or program this spring!

Literary Gardens–In Person: — Wednesday, March 29, 7-8:30 p.m. La Grange Park Public Library, LaGrange, IL. (Free but limited to the first 25 people). For more information, contact the library here.

The Tallgrass Prairie: Grocery Store, Apothecary, and Love Charm Shop: April 4, 7-8:30 pm. Free and open to the public. Presented by the Winfield Area Gardeners. For more information and location, visit here.

A Brief History of Trees in America: April 5 (Closed event for the Illinois Garden Council). Chicago Western Suburbs.

Literary Gardens — In Person — April 11, 7-8:30 p.m., Glenview Garden Club and Glenview Public Library. Free and open to the public, but seating is limited. Register here.

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers — Monday, April 17, 5-6 p.m., Rock River Garden Club, Dixon, IL. (Closed event for members)

The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction — Tuesday, April 18, Algonquin Garden Club, 12:30-2 p.m. (Closed event for members)

Spring Wildflower and EthnobotanyWalk—Thursday, April 20, 8:30-10:30 am or Saturday, April 29, 8:30-10:30 am at The Morton Arboretum. Registration information here. (Both walks SOLD OUT, ask to be put on a waiting list)

The Tallgrass Prairie in Popular Culture –Sunday, April 23, 2-5 p.m. The Land Conservancy’s 32nd Annual Celebration, High Tea at the McHenry Country Club, Woodstock, IL. Tickets are $45-$70 — available here.

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Please visit Sandy Hook Promise to learn how you can help change gun violence.

Bedazzled by Birds and Garden Catalogs

“The bumblebee consults his blossoms and the gardener his catalogs, which blossom extravagantly at this season, luring him with their four-color fantasies of bloom and abundance.”—Michael Pollan

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It’s that time of year.

Garden catalogs, Glen Ellyn, IL.

My mailbox overflows. Catalogs from Prairie Moon Nursery. Prairie Nursery. Park Seed. Burpee. Seed Savers Exchange.

You get the idea.

Still, these are not enough. The more garden catalogs I receive, the more I yearn for the ones I don’t have. (Baker Creek Heirloom Seed, where, oh where, is the catalog I requested?) Evenings, I pore over my precious stack. Make lists. Compare prices. Check shipping costs. Consult last year’s lists of successes and failures. I order from some companies, like Prairie Moon Nursery, even when I don’t particularly need to. I want to see them stay in business.

The packet pictures are a foreshadowing of the season to come. Little envelopes full of dreams.

So many seed packets! So little time. Not pictured: Many more…. .

Last August, I swore I’d order no tomatoes and peppers in 2023. The bounty of the past few gardening seasons has been incredible. We pop frozen cherry tomatoes in chili all winter; shake out chopped sweet peppers into scrambled eggs. Never have such few plants produced so much bounty. And yet… .

Garden tomatoes (Solanum lycopersicum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL. (2018)

I may plant a few cherry tomato plants; plus a SuperSauce tomato or two. Perhaps a couple of peppers. You know…three plants, max. After all, tomatoes and peppers are part of the joy of summer.

Giant Marconi sweet peppers (Capsicum annuum ‘Giant Marconi’), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL (2022).

After a happy morning with the garden catalogs, Jeff and I go for a hike at a local forest preserve.

Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

The call of sandhill cranes is a continuous soundtrack to our ramble. Bird migration is ramping up.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis) over Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Birders glass the lake with their binoculars, pointing. Northern shovelers! Almost a dozen scattered across the water.

Northern shovelers (Spatula clypeata), Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

There is a flotilla of mergansers, diving and dabbling. A birder tells us he sees the lesser scaup and we zoom in on a few, hoping to see the field marks. I dutifully enter that species in eBird, but I’m not sure. When I return home, and blow up my blurry photos, I consult a birding friend. Ring-necked duck, we both agree—a life bird for me. But my oh my! The ring-necks and the scaups look so much alike.

Best guess is that these are ring-necked ducks (Aythya collaris), but I’d appreciate correction. Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

So much to learn! I edit my eBird entries and cross my fingers, hoping I’ve got it all right. It’s fun to see new species, even if the waterfowl are confusing.

I don’t have to worry about identifying the starlings. They lift off from a tree in waves, then float through the sky in groups known as murmurations. I’m not fond of starlings (a non-native species), but I can’t help but admire their choreography.

European starlings (Sturnus vulgaris), Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

As we hike around the lake, checking for birds, we admire the 365 view. Danada Forest Preserve and its prairie plantings are directly across a busy highway from endless shopping strips and restaurants. Jets lift off from Chicago-O’Hare International Airport, adding their grumble to the birdsong.

Across the highway from Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

How wonderful that this preserve was set apart. As we hike alongside families, bikers, horseback riders, and older folks, I feel a sense of gratitude.

Rice Lake, Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL (cell phone image).

A turkey vulture flies high overhead.

Turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) over Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

Clouds gather in the west and a mackerel sky foretells the coming rain. We’ve hiked further than we intended, and forgotten our water bottles.

Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

By the time we make it back to the car, we’re ready to put up our feet and rest.

Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum), sometimes called dogbane, Danada Forest Preserve, Wheaton, IL.

What a joy to hike the prairie this month! What a delight to see new birds. How fun to anticipate the warmer season on the way, and then, return home to once again browse the garden catalogs.

What a marvelous month you are, March. I can’t wait to see what other delights you have to show us.

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This post kicks off with a quote from one of my favorite chapters in Michael Pollan’s book, Second Nature:”Made Wild By Pompous Catalogs.” Pollan (1955-) who writes compellingly about the frustrations, joys, and desires of the home gardener, also authored Botany of Desire and The Omnivore’s Dilemma, two books that are must-reads. Read more about him here.

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Join Cindy for a Class or Program in March!

Literary Gardens —In Person— March 7, 7-8:30 p.m,– Hosted by the ELA Library and Lake Zurich Garden Club. Location change — now at St. Matthews Lutheran Church, Hawthorn Woods, IL. Free and open to the public. For more information, visit here.

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers ONLINE — March 15, 7-8:30 p.m., Hosted by Bensonville Public Library. Free and open to the public, but you must register for the link by calling the library. Contact information here.

Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers ONLINE –March 16, 7-8:30 p.m., Hosted by the Rock Valley Wild Ones. This event was formerly a blended program and is now online only. Open to the public; but you must register. Contact information is here.

Literary Gardens — In Person —– Saturday, March 18, 9am-12:30 pm. Keynote for “Ready, Set, Grow!” Master Gardeners of Carroll, Lee, Ogle, and Whiteside Counties through The Illinois Extension. Dixon, IL. Registration ($25) is offered here.

The Morton Arboretum’s “Women in the Environment Series”: The Legacy of May T. Watts— (in person and online)—with lead instructor and Sterling Morton Librarian extraordinaire Rita Hassert. March 24, 10-11:30 a.m., Founders Room, Thornhill. Registration information available here.

Literary Gardens–In Person — Wednesday, March 29, 7-8:30 p.m. La Grange Park Public Library, LaGrange, IL. (free but limited to 25 people). For more information, contact the library here.

See Cindy’s website for more spring programs and classes.

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Bell Bowl Prairie in Rockford, IL, needs your help. As of this writing, it appears the bulldozers (as May Watts would say) are drooling. The destruction of this remnant is near at hand. Find out how you can help save this threatened prairie remnant at SaveBellBowlPrairie.

Goodnight, Tallgrass Prairie

“I am in love with this world.” — John Burroughs

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Daylight savings time kicked in Sunday in the Midwest. An extra hour before sunset! I head to the prairie for a late hike in last light.

Bridge over Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

It’s the last days. Each member of the prairie community seems set apart tonight. Who knows when a prescribed burn will wipe the tallgrass slate clean for another season? The fires may arrive at any time. Until then, I want to appreciate everything I see.

I pick up my pace on the muddy two-track.

It will be dark soon.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight, moon.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the grasses.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the prairie dock.

Prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight, carrion flower seeds.

Carrion flower (Smilax ecirrhata), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight mosses and lichens.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight, lingering ice in Willoway Brook.

Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight bur oak.

Bur Oak (Quercus macrocarpa), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the brambles.

Pasture rose (Rosa carolina), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the bridges.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the vines.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the midges.

Midges (family Chironomidae), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight, mountain mint.

Common mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight, houses on the edge of the prairie.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the redwing, singing sounds of spring.

Red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the other redwing, singing back to him.

Red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the brook, running cold and clean.

Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight to the bundleflower, reflected in the stream.

Illinois bundleflower (Desmanthus illinoensis), Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight air.

Wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight chair.

Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight sparrows everywhere.

Chipping sparrow (Spizella passerina), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Goodnight prairie.

Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

See you in my dreams.

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The opening quote is by John Burroughs (1837-1921),an American writer and naturalist. Almost every year, a book of natural history wins the John Burroughs Medal, an award given in his honor. For a complete list, look here. This post was inspired by many readings of Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown to my children and now, my six grandchildren.

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Join Cindy for a class or program (see http://www.cindycrosby.com for more)

March 26, 10-11:30 am — Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers at Brookfield Garden Club, Brookfield, IL. (Closed event for members only, to inquire about joining the club, click here.)

March 28, 7-8:30pm—Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden at Grayslake Greenery Garden Club, Grayslake, IL. Contact the club here for details.

Wild and Wonderful March Prairie

“Gardens console us, welcome us, connect us. They humble. They teach… . Couldn’t prairies exist in our backyards in some meaningful form?” — Benjamin Vogt

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Snow. 70 degrees and sunshine. Sleet. 75 mph wind gusts.

It is March in the Midwest, full of twists and turns…and wonder. We wake up, not knowing if we’ll put on sweaters and boots or shorts and sandals. Each day offers surprises, like crocus suddenly in bloom.

Crocus (Crocus sp.), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

The first daffodils and hyacinths spear green shoots through the prairie dropseed in my backyard. Welcome back!

Daffodils (Narcissus sp.) and prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Redpolls cluster at the feeder, seemingly loath to begin their trip to their Arctic breeding grounds. They remind me of myself getting ready to go somewhere. “Hold on—let me do one more thing before we go… .”

Common redpolls (Acanthis flammea), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

A male redpoll feeds a female redpoll some thistle. Is this courting behavior? I’m not sure. This was our first year to have redpolls at our backyard feeders in Illinois and I know very little about them. What an unexpected delight! Who knows if we’ll see them again? I’ll miss the redpolls when they are gone. They’ve left us with some beautiful memories, and the reminder that life is full of these unexpected amazements —-if we pay attention.

Rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium) Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

There will be other birds to enjoy. The female downy woodpeckers hang around all year…

Downy woodpecker (Dryobates pubescens), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

…and so do the males, with their bright scarlet splash of color.

Downy Woodpecker (Dryobates pubescens), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Our backyard prairie, lank and leaning after months of weather, gets a facelift with the falling snow. Magical!

Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Even the pawpaw tree—though leafless—is lovely with its snow-piled limbs.

Pawpaw tree (Asimina triloba), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Temperatures hover around freezing, but our pond remains thawed from Saturday’s wild 70-degree temperature binge.

Crosby’s backyard pond, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Gently, I bend the fall-planted buttonbush shoots near the pond. They feel supple, rather than brittle. Tiny buds. A flush of color. It has survived the winter. Last summer, with its drought and weather swings, was a tough year for newly-planted perennials.

Buttonbush ( Cephalanthus occidentalis) Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

My New Jersey tea hasn’t done as well. Under the eaves, close to the house, this native shrub gets plenty of warmth but not as much moisture and sun as it would in the bigger prairie planting. Should it be moved this year? Hmmm.

New Jersey Tea (Ceanothus americanus), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

It’s a stick! Not much to write home about, is it? Every spring I think I’ve lost this shrub, and each spring New Jersey tea surprises me. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.

Other natives like prairie smoke….

Prairie smoke (Geum triflorum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

…and prairie alum root still hold some green. They look alive and ready for the growing season.

Prairie alum root (Heuchera richardsonii), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

We’re one week into the month of March.

Gray-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

A week of blustery wind and snow. A week of warmth and rain. A week of good news, as Covid numbers recede. A week of terrifying events on the other side of the world.

View from the prairie, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

A week of wondering. What’s Mother Nature going to throw at us next?

Crosby’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

As the snow falls and ices the prairie with wonder, I remind myself: There’s a lot to look forward to in the new year. Plenty of astonishments and delights ahead that we can’t even imagine.

I can’t wait.

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The opening quote is by Benjamin Vogt (1976-) from his book, A New Garden Ethic: Cultivating Defiant Compassion for an Uncertain Future, which calls us to reconsider lawns, and plant our gardens thoughtfully. Read more about Vogt here.

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Join Cindy for a program or class!

See http://www.cindycrosby.com for details.

March 8, 7-8:30pm — Dragonflies and Damselflies: Frequent Fliers in the Garden at Twig and Bloom Garden Club, Glen Ellyn, IL. More information here.

March 9, 1-2:30 pm— Illinois Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers at Garden Club of Oak Park and River Forest, Oak Park, IL (Open to the public). Details here.

March 26, 10-11:30 am — Illinois Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers at Brookfield Garden Club, Brookfield, IL. (Closed event for members only)

March 28, 7-8:30pm—Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden at Grayslake Greenery Garden Club, Grayslake, IL. Contact the club here for details.

March Arrives on the Prairie

“March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight… .” ―L. M. Montgomery

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In like a lamb. The first day of March is mild and the forecast shows more of the same. Sunshine, a few clouds. Temperatures that will stretch and hit 50 degrees. The Farmer’s Almanac tells us if March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb. Is the reverse true—will it go out like a lion, then? We’ll find out in a few weeks. Spring is a work in progress.

Crescent moon at sunrise, looking south over Crosby’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Wait, what? Spring? Today—March 1—is the first day of meteorological spring and this year, it’s also Mardi Gras or Shrove Tuesday. Astronomical spring is March 20, so go ahead — celebrate the first day of spring twice! In the Midwest, March is the month for snow and longer hours of sunlight, for the Northern Hemisphere’s vernal equinox, for tornadoes and the first woodland and prairie wildflowers, for St. Patrick’s Day and Lent, and in some years, Easter. Originally, it was the first month of the old Roman calendar. In my garden, March is the month of snowdrops and crocus blooms. Hyacinth and daffodil shoots peek through the prairie dropseed along the warmest side of the house.

Spring bulbs coming up through prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

This weekend, as Sunday drew to a close, Jeff and I went for a hike at Blackwell Forest Preserve. In winter, it’s a favorite spot for ice fishing and snow tubing. In the summer, kayaks and small motorboats ply the biggest lake as families fish and picnic along the shoreline.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Blackwell is also the site of the Urban Stream Research Center, where the federally-endangered Hine’s Emerald dragonfly is being reared in its nymph stage. When the dragonflies are ready to transform from nymph to adult, they are taken to selected locations and released. The Hine’s Emerald adult dragonfly is on my must-see list. I hope 2022 is the year. I’ve only seen the nymph.

Hine’s Emerald Dragonfly (Somatochlora hineana) nymph, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Difficult to believe this nymph will become a beautiful dragonfly, isn’t it? Take a look here to see it in its adult stage.

Tonight, a few archery enthusiasts are out and about the preserve, practicing their skills. A lone ice fisherman collects his gear and heads for his truck. The parking lot is still full of cars, despite the gathering dark. Where is everyone? Perhaps others are out on the trails like we are, enjoying the last half hour before closing time and heading home to start the work week.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

As we begin our hike, I admire the prairie restoration signs. I don’t remember seeing them before, or that “prairie” was brought to the attention of visitors. Yay!

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

I’m happy to spy many of my favorite prairie plants. Switchgrass, turning luminous in last light.

Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) , Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Thimbleweed.

Thimbleweed (Anemone cylindrica), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Indian grass limns the shoreline.

Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

A small stand of evening primrose stands out against the grasses.

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Wild blackberry canes thread through the prairie plantings, adding a welcome bit of color. I admire the red, even though as a prairie steward, I know how aggressive this native can be.

WIld blackberry canes (Rubis xxx), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

An alien-looking finger of mullein, ringed with ragged leaves, points toward the sky.

Great mullein (Vervascum thapsus) Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Wild bergamot still holds its minty scent.

Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

The air smells like melting snow and mud.

Cold and exhilarating.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

It’s almost closing time, so we turn around and start back to the parking lot. But we can’t resist a detour to the bridge.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

There, we watch the sunset and scan the frozen water. The tracks on the lake are human, dark and slushy.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

I wonder how recent these footprints are? With the temperatures warming, the ice would have been tricky. Were they foolhardy kids? Or were the footprints made much earlier in the week, when the temperatures were bitter and the lake was frozen solid? Difficult to say.

Someone left a message.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

Sweet! I don’t know if mom would have been happy they were out there, but I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment.

Old nest, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

The sun drops behind the trees.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

On the opposite side of the lake, the sky becomes a lavender haze.

Sunset, Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

We head back to the car. What a pleasant way to end the day! A hike at the forest preserve with prairie plants all around, and new preserve signs showing intentions for future prairie restoration.

Signs of hope.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

“A work in progress.” After a week of stunned disbelief watching world events, I needed the peace and solace of a sunset prairie hike and a reminder that everything is a “work in progress.” Tomorrow is another day. Another chance for change.

Blackwell Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL.

It’s a good way to welcome a new week. I’m ready to usher in a brand new month, full of possibilities.

You, too?

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The opening quote is by Lucy Maud Montgomery (1874-19420, author of the fictional series Anne of Green Gables; her complete body of work includes 20 novels, 500 poems, more than 500 short stories and numerous essays. Most of her novels are set on Prince Edward Island in Canada.

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Upcoming Programs

See http://www.cindycrosby.com for details.

March 8, 7 pm-8:30pm — Dragonflies and Damselflies: Frequent Fliers in the Garden at Twig and Bloom Garden Club, Glen Ellyn, IL.

March 9, 1-2:30 pm— Illinois Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers at Garden Club of Oak Park and River Forest, Oak Park, IL.

March 28, 7-8:30pm—Add a Little Prairie to Your Garden at Grayslake Greenery Garden Club, Grayslake, IL.

Prairie Fire Season

“Fire works best in nature as it does in the lab, as a catalyst. It interacts. It quickens, shakes, forces.” — Stephen Pyne

*****

It’s time.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Rising temperatures. Light winds. Rain, forecast later in the week. There’s a sense of urgency. This is the moment.

Time to burn the tallgrass prairie.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

In 2020, the Covid-19 lockdown occurred during prescribed fire season. For the first time in recent memory, the Schulenberg Prairie—like many prairies—was left unburned.

Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

So much was surreal about 2020; not the least was to see the prairie in its second year growth. Spring wildflowers were partially invisible under thatch and old grasses. Black walnut saplings, sumac, and gray dogwood moved in. Prairie shrubs looked, well, shrubby, without their annual fire regime. Most stunning was the prairie pasture rose, which grew taller than I’ve seen it before, with beautiful rose hips that lingered into spring.

Pasture Rose (Rosa Carolina) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

And now, in a matter of four hours, the last two seasons of tallgrass growth have gone up in smoke.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

A red-tailed hawk hovers, waiting to pounce on any small mammals running ahead of the flames. How do they know what fire will do? I wonder. Nearby, a field sparrow sings from a wild plum tree, oblivious to the spectacle taking place. I often find hawk feathers and other bird feathers on my hikes here; now, there will be no trace. Only ashes and bird song.

Feather, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

A woman pulls her car to the side of the road; rolls down her window. “Do you know why they’re doing this?” she asks. It’s an excellent question. The short answer is this: Prescribed fire helps keep a prairie healthy. Without fire, we would lose our prairies.

Fire keeps brush and trees from taking over the tallgrass and turning it to woodland.

Bur Oaks (Quercus macrocarpa), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Spring burns warm the ground. The blackened soil heats up much more quickly than unburned soil. This tells the prairie plants it’s time to grow.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Old leaf litter—dead plants—vanish in the flames, freeing up space for new growth.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Fire also helps control some weedy plants that might otherwise take over the prairie and outcompete native plants. The prescribed burns help prairie stewards maintain diversity.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

I watch the hardworking women and men of the fire crew check the prairie for hikers, then lay down a waterline around each area to be burned.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

The water line, back-burns, mowed pathways, and the gravel road create boundaries that help keep the fire within a contained space.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

With the help of a drip torch, different portions of the prairie are set on fire.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Up in flames go the prairie dock leaves.

Prairie Dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Mountain mint seedheads turn to ashes.

Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

The last lingering seeds of carrion flower: vanished.

Upright Carrion Flower (Smilax ecirrhata), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Late figwort disappears into the inferno.

Late figwort (Scrophularia marilandica) Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

The last vestiges of 2020 on the prairie are only a memory.

False sunflower (Heliopsis helianthoides) Shadow, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Fire is usually something we fear.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Today, we embrace it. Welcome it. Respect it.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Losing our prairie burn season in 2020 was only one of many losses in a year full of assorted griefs.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

But with today’s prairie fire, I feel joy.

Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

At last. There’s hope for the season ahead.

*****

Stephen Pyne (1949-) is professor emeritus at Arizona State University, and the author of The Perils of Prescribed Fire from which the opening quote for this post is taken. He’s written 34 other books, most of them about fire. Listen to his Ted Talk How Fire Shapes Everything here.

*****

Join Cindy for an online class! See http://www.cindycrosby.com for a full list of upcoming talks and programs.

Virtual Wildflower Walks Online: Section A: Friday, April 9, 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. CST Woodland Wildflowers, Section B: Thursday, May 6, 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. CST Woodland and Prairie Wildflowers. Wander through the ever-changing array of blooms in our woodlands and prairies in this virtual walk. Learn how to identify spring wildflowers, and hear about their folklore. In April, the woodlands begin to blossom with ephemerals, and weeks later, the prairie joins in the fun! Each session will cover what’s blooming in our local woodlands and prairies as the spring unfolds. Enjoy this fleeting spring pleasure, with new flowers revealing themselves each week. Register here.

A Brief History of Trees in America: Online, Wednesday, April 28, 7-8 p.m. Sponsored by Friends of the Green Bay Trail and the Glencoe Public Library. From oaks to sugar maples to the American chestnut: trees changed the course of American history. Discover the roles of a few of our favorite trees in building our nation as you remember and celebrate the trees influential in your personal history and your garden. Registration here.

Plant A Backyard Prairie: Online, Wednesday, June 9 and Friday, June 11, 11am-12:30pm. CST –Bring the prairie to your doorstep! Turn a corner of your home landscape into a pocket-size prairie. If you think prairie plants are too wild for a home garden, think again! You can create a beautiful planted area that welcomes pollinators and wildlife without raising your neighbors’ eyebrows. In this online class, you will learn: how to select the right spot for your home prairie; which plants to select and their many benefits, for wildlife, and for you; creative ways to group plants for a pleasing look, and how to care for your prairie. Plus, you’ll get loads of inspiration from beautiful photos and stories that will bring your backyard prairie to life before you even put a single plant in the ground. Register here.

The Prairie Whispers:”Spring”

“The afternoon is bright, with spring in the air, a mild March afternoon, with the breath of April stirring… .”—Antonio Machado

*******

It’s 63 degrees. I leave my heavy winter coat, gloves, and scarf in the closet and pull out my windbreaker for the first time in months.

Treeline in bright sun, East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Winter hasn’t quite let go. No mistake about it. But the five senses say a shift in seasons is underway.

Gray-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata) and Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota), Dick Young Forest Preserve Prairie, Batavia, IL.

In between the prairie dropseed planted along the edges of my backyard patio, the crocus and snowdrops have emerged from their dark sojourn underground.

Crocus (Crocus sp.) , Cindy’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

When I dug them in last October, the pandemic seemed to have gone on forever. Vaccination was only a dream. Spring seemed a long way off. Today, I count the flowers—10, 20, 40… . Look how far we’ve come.

Crocus (Crocus sp.) ,Cindy’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Cardinal song wakes us in the morning. The windows are cracked open to take advantage of the smell of clean, laundered air.

Tall coreopsis (Coreopsis tripteris), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

On the prairie trails I see a honey bee, flying low to the ground, looking for something blooming. Not much. Warm temperatures and hot sun have brought the earliest prairie fliers out today. My ears catch the buzz—a sound I haven’t heard in months. Soon, I won’t even register it when the pollinators are out in numbers. Today, that “buzz” is still new enough to catch my attention.

Gray-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata), Dick Young Forest Preserve, Batavia, IL.

In the afternoon, hundreds of sandhill cranes pass overhead, their cries audible even inside the house. We stand on the back porch, eyes shielded against the bright sun, watching.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Cindy’s backyard prairie, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Waves upon waves upon waves. Heading north to the top of the world. Flying determinedly toward something they only dimly remember.

Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Dick Young Forest Preserve, Batavia, IL.

On the prairie, ice still slicks the trails where shadows lie. We pull on knee-high rubber boots and slosh through slush.

Trail through Dick Young Forest Preserve prairie, Batavia, IL.

In spots the paths are springy like a mattress. The trail gives unexpectedly and I tumble down, sprawling, laughing. It’s like sinking into a pillow– although a cold, muddy one. In spring, there are so many new sounds and scents it’s easy to forget to watch your step.

Bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Burdock burs, grasping at their last chance to hitchhike a ride, catch our clothes. We spend a few minutes pulling them off. Ouch! I’d forgotten how sharp they are. Years ago, I remember our collie getting into a big patch of burdock. Impossible to remove. I spent a good long while with the scissors, cutting the burs out.

Dick Young Forest Preserve prairie blues, early March, Batavia, IL.

All around me are the last seeds of 2020; those that remain uneaten by voles, undisturbed by winter storms. Seed dispersal is so varied on the prairie! Wind and animals; people and birds—we all have a role to play in the continuing life of plants. Even now, the vanishing snow is filtering the fallen seeds into the soil, ready for a new life.

Indian hemp or dogbane (Apocynum cannabinum), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Inhale. The smell of damp earth. Not the scent of fall’s decay, but something similar.

Goldenrod (Solidago sp.) “bunch gall”, East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

The fragrance teases my nose. Tickles my memory. It’s the spring’s “prairie perfume.”

The sky begins to cloud with tiny popcorn cumulus. The warmth of the day takes on a bit of a chill. These are the last days of tallgrass.

Rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Any day now, fire will come to these prairies. Smoke-plumes will rise in the distance. The old season will be burned away.

After the prescribed fire, Fermilab Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL. (2018)

Until then, the brittle grasses and battered wildflowers wait, tinder for the flames.

Nachusa Grasslands, prescribed fire on Big Jump Prairie (2016).

Today, spring seems like something exotic, something new.

Cattails (Typha sp.), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

It’s not a shout yet. It’s barely a whisper.

Wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium), Dick Young Forest Preserve prairie, Batavia, IL.

But listen.

Canada wild rye (Elymus canadensis), East Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Can you hear it?

*****

The quote that opens this post is by Antonio Machado (Antonio Cipriano José María y Francisco de Santa Ana Machado y Ruiz) (1875-1939) from Selected Poems, #3. Machado is regarded as one of Spain’s greatest poets. Reflective and spiritual, his poems explore love, grief, history and the landscape of Spain. A longer excerpt (as translated by Alan Trueblood), reads: “The afternoon is bright, /with spring in the air, /a mild March afternoon,/with the breath of April stirring,/ I am alone in the quiet patio/ looking for some old untried illusion -/some shadow on the whiteness of the wall/some memory asleep/on the stone rim of the fountain,/perhaps in the air/the light swish of some trailing gown.”

*******

Join Cindy for an online class! See http://www.cindycrosby.com for a full list of upcoming talks and programs.

Virtual Wildflower Walks Online: Section A: Friday, April 9, 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. CST Woodland Wildflowers, Section B: Thursday, May 6, 6:30 to 8:00 p.m. CST Woodland and Prairie Wildflowers. Wander through the ever-changing array of blooms in our woodlands and prairies in this virtual walk. Learn how to identify spring wildflowers, and hear about their folklore. In April, the woodlands begin to blossom with ephemerals, and weeks later, the prairie joins in the fun! Each session will cover what’s blooming in our local woodlands and prairies as the spring unfolds. Enjoy this fleeting spring pleasure, with new flowers revealing themselves each week. Register here.

Plant A Backyard Prairie: Online, Wednesday, June 9 and Friday, June 11, 11am-12:30pm. CST –Bring the prairie to your doorstep! Turn a corner of your home landscape into a pocket-size prairie. If you think prairie plants are too wild for a home garden, think again! You can create a beautiful planted area that welcomes pollinators and wildlife without raising your neighbors’ eyebrows. In this online class, you will learn: how to select the right spot for your home prairie; which plants to select and their many benefits, for wildlife, and for you; creative ways to group plants for a pleasing look, and how to care for your prairie. Plus, you’ll get loads of inspiration from beautiful photos and stories that will bring your backyard prairie to life before you even put a single plant in the ground. Register here.

The Prairie Whispers “Spring”

“…this spring morning with its cloud of light, that wakes the blackbird in the trees downhill…”—W.S. Merwin

******

On March 1, Jeff and I celebrated the first day of meteorological spring by hiking the 1,829-acre Springbrook Prairie in Naperville, IL.  March came in like a lamb.

From its unlikely spot smack in the middle of subdivisions and busy shopping centers, Springbrook Prairie serves as an oasis for wildlife and native plants. As part of the Illinois Nature Preserves and DuPage Forest Preserve system…

… it is (according to the forest preserve’s website) “a regionally significant grassland for breeding and overwintering birds and home to meadowlarks, dickcissels, grasshopper sparrows, woodcocks and bobolinks as well as state-endangered northern harriers, short-eared owls, and Henslow’s sparrows.” Some of these birds stick around during the winter; others will swing into the area in a month or two with the northward migration.

That’s quite a list of birds.  Shielding our eyes against the sun, we see something unexpected.

A bald eagle! From its “grave troubles” in the 1970s (as the Illinois Natural History Survey tells us), it is estimated that 30-40 breeding pairs of bald eagles now nest in Illinois each year. We watch it soar, buffeted by the winds, until it is out of sight. As we marvel over this epiphany, we hear the sound of a different bird. Oka-lee! Oka-lee!

We first heard them a week ago as we hiked the Belmont Prairie. Their song is a harbinger of spring.  Soon, they’ll be lost in a chorus of spring birdsong, but for now, they take center stage.

A few Canada geese appear overhead. Two mallards complete our informal bird count. Not bad for the first day of March.

The scent of mud and thaw tickles my nose;  underwritten with a vague hint of chlorophyll.

Strong breezes bend the grasses.

The temperature climbs as we hike—soon, it’s almost 60 degrees. Sixty degrees! I unwind my scarf, unzip my coat.

Joggers plod methodically along the trail, eyes forward, earbuds in place. They leave deep prints on the thawing crushed limestone trail. Bicyclists whiz through, the only evidence minutes later are the lines grooved into the path.

Our pace, by comparison, is slow. We’re here to look.

Bright light floods the grasslands. Mornings now, I wake to this sunlight which pours through the blinds and jump-starts my day. In less than a week—March 8—we’ll change to daylight savings time and seem to “lose” some of these sunlight gains. Getting started in the morning will be a more difficult chore. But for now, I lean into the light.

What a difference sunshine and warmth make!

Families are out in groups, laughing and joking. Everyone seems energized by the blue skies.

Grasslands are on the brink of disappearance. To save them, we have to set them aflame. Ironic, isn’t it?  To “destroy” what we want to preserve? But fire is life to prairies. Soon these grasses and ghosts of wildflowers past will turn to ashes in the prescribed burns.

Mowed boundaries—firebreaks—for the prescribed burns are in place…

…a foreshadowing of what is to come. We’ve turned a corner. Soon. Very soon.

The prairie world has been half-dreaming…

…almost sleeping.

It’s time to wake up.

All the signs are in place. The slant of light. Warmth. Birdsong. The scent of green.

Spring.

*****

The opening quote is part of a poem “Variations to the Accompaniment of a Cloud” from Garden Time by W.S. Merwin (1927-2019). My favorite of his poems is “After the Dragonflies” from the same volume. Merwin grew up in New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and was the son of a Presbyterian minister; he later became a practicing Buddhist and moved to Hawaii. As a child, he wrote hymns. He was our U.S. Poet Laureate twice, and won almost all the major awards given for poetry. I appreciate Merwin for his deep explorations of the natural world and his call to conservation.

*****

All photos this week copyright Cindy Crosby and taken at Springbrook Prairie, Forest Preserve District of DuPage County/Illinois Nature Preserves, Naperville, IL (top to bottom):  March on Springbrook Prairie; sign; prairie skies (can you see the “snowy egret” in the cloud formation?); bald eagle (Haliaeetus leucocephalus); red-winged blackbirds (Agelaius phoeniceus); possibly a red-winged blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) nest (corrections welcome); mallard ducks (Anas platyrhynchos); rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccafolium); switchgrass (Panicum virgatum); Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans); hiker; bee balm (Monarda fistulosa); bee balm (Monarda fistulosa); prairie skies; dogbane or Indian hemp (Apocynum cannabinum); mowed firebreak; curve in the trail; snowmelt; common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca); common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca); grasses and water. “Lean into the light” is a phrase borrowed from Barry Lopez —one of my favorites —from “Arctic Dreams.”

******

Join Cindy for a Class or Talk in March

Nature Writing Workshop (a blended online and in-person course, three Tuesday evenings in-person) begins March 3 at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. For details and registration, click here. Sold out. Call to be put on the waiting list.

The Tallgrass Prairie: A Conversation— March 12  Thursday, 10am-12noon, Leafing Through the Pages Book Club, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. Open to the public; however, all regular Arboretum admission fees apply.  Books available at The Arboretum Store.

Dragonfly Workshop, March 14  Saturday, 9-11:30 a.m.  Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. Free and open to new and experienced dragonfly monitors, prairie stewards, and the public, but you must register as space is limited. Contact phrelanzer@aol.com for more information,  details will be sent with registration.

Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online begins March 26 through the Morton Arboretum.  Details and registration here.

See more at http://www.cindycrosby.com   

Rumors of Spring

“Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up…” –Woody Guthrie

*****

There’s a rumor in northern Illinois that it’s spring. But not a lot of anecdotal evidence to support it. Talk to anyone and you’ll hear the usual early April grouching about gray days, unexpected snow, and temps barely nudging 30 degrees.

Natural areas managers scramble to get in their last prescribed burns before spring commences in earnest.

On most prairies,  fire has kissed the tallgrass and gone, leaving the earth stripped and covered with ash. If you don’t look closely, it can all seem a bit melancholy.

But look again.

The prairies are awakening. You can see it in the juxtaposition of what was lost, and what is green and new.

Listen as April releases her icy grip on the tallgrass and wakes up the streams and springs.

The prairie knows it’s time to get moving.

Wake up, wood betony!

Just one glimpse of your crinkly maroon leaves reminds me that your lemon-colored blooms are not far behind.

Come on, April wind and rain! Topple the old compass plant stalks that escaped the fires; let them meld with the earth, covered by new growth.

Wake up, Virginia bluebells!

I can’t wait until you color the woodlands around the prairies with your impossible blue.

Pincushion the burned ground with green, prairie dropseed.

Let’s get this season underway!

I want a front row seat…

…as the prairie swings into a slow crescendo…

… as the spring frogs chorus their approval…

…as from the ashes, the prairie is renewed.

It’s time. Wake up!

*****

“Wake Up,” the lyrics of which open this post,  was written in 1954 by folk musician Woodrow “Woody” Wilson Guthrie (1912-1967). During his Oklahoma childhood, Guthrie’s older sister died in an accident, his family became bankrupt, and his mother was institutionalized. These tragedies—and later, the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl—gave him empathy with people who suffered, and heavily influenced his music. Guthrie, who died of Huntington’s Disease, wrote everything from children’s tunes to political protest songs. Read more about him here.

*****

All photos and videos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): gray skies on the prairie, Fermilab Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; prescribed burn, East Woods, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; video–the prairie greens up, Fermilab Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; snail shell and unknown green sprout on the prairie, Fermilab Prairie Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; video–water running through the prairie, Fermilab Prairie Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; wood betony (Pedicularis canadensis) leafing out, Fermilab Prairie Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Fermilab Prairie Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) leafing out, West Side Woodland, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica) in bloom, Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; bench on Fermilab Prairie Interpretive Trail, Batavia, IL; switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) Fermilab Natural Areas, Batavia, IL; frog calls at Crowley Marsh, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; Nachusa Grasslands at the end of March, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.

Prairie Shadows; Prairie Promise

“Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.” — Nathaniel Hawthorne

*******

It’s “shadow season” on the prairie, a time where everything seems a ghost of its former, vibrant self. I find it one of the most difficult times of the year in the tallgrass. Everything that remains at the turn of March to April is seemingly brittle. Ruined. Grasses are flattened. The prairie seems worn out.

Waiting for fire.

Or maybe I’m just projecting my own winter-weary self on the prairie. The prairie—as always—has its gifts to give.  These gifts just aren’t that in-your-face, “wow-look-at-that-color!” good looks. No wildflowers. No juicy grasses. Few returning grassland birds.

There is a whole lot of animal scat and mud. Trash, small mammal bones, and flotsam and jetsam left behind after the snow melt.

It’s discouraging. But sometimes, to see hope for the future—or even, just to give yourself a mental boost to get to next week—you have to look a little closer. Dig a little deeper. Take more time. Sit with things.

When you do, you find that with the prairie’s maturity comes a different sort of beauty. It’s nuanced.

Some plants are crumpled and twisted. This one caught a plant virus. See that thick stem? It’s frayed a little around the stress points, but not broken…

Prairie dock leaves are so wrinkled you have to look twice to recognize them.

Much different from their beginnings just a year or so ago.

All the knowledge of the past prairie season is encapsulated here in March. A shadow of what once was. You can’t help but be reminded of our own fleeting presence here.

 

There’s promise. That promise will be more evident after the prescribed fires, when the prairie is once again lush and green and beginning to bloom.

Despite the stands of dead foliage, what is important to the prairie is still here. Even if unseen. It’s right where you’re standing. Down deep where the fire can’t touch it, in the roots that plunge up to 15 feet or more into the earth.

Martin Luther King, Jr., once said: “Everything we see is but a shadow cast by that which we don’t see.” He wasn’t talking about the prairie, but his words are applicable. Those unseen deep roots that grip the soil so tenaciously–and will remain untouched by fire—are the prairie’s future. They hold the history of the prairie–the soil—in their grasp. While the life of the prairie above the ground is finished—that fleeting shadow of wildflowers, grasses, and color—there is more to consider than what is visible to our eyes.

Some prairies have already been burned as March comes to a close. But, without the right weather conditions, many of our local prairies are still in a state of anticipation. Waiting for the flames. For the prairie to flourish—for color and life and motion to be kindled again in the tallgrass—calls for something harsh, extravagant, and radical to happen.

There’s not much time left. March is almost over.

Bring on the fire.

*****

The opening quote is by dark romantic writer Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), a neighbor of Ralph Waldo Emerson and a contemporary of Abraham Lincoln, Bronson Alcott, Henry David Thoreau, Herman Melville (who dedicated his novel Moby Dick to Hawthorne), and Louis Agassiz. To support his writing, and later his family, Hawthorne did everything from working as a surveyor to shoveling manure. He’s known for his short stories and his novels, such as The House of the Seven Gables. Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter was one of the first mass produced books in America, and required reading when I was in high school. Writer D.H. Lawrence said of The Scarlet Letter, “There could be no more perfect work of the imagination.” Hawthorne is buried at Authors Ridge in Concord, Massachusetts.

*****

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): Schulenberg Prairie in March before the burn, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL;  unknown mammal bones, Prairiewoods Prairie, Hiawatha, IA; spoon in the tallgrass, Prairiewoods Prairie, Hiawatha, IA; prairie dock leaf (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Illinois DNR, The Nature Conservancy IL, Downer’s Grove Park District, Downer’s Grove, IL; pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida) (probably infected with a virus), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Illinois DNR, The Nature Conservancy IL; Downer’s Grove Park District, Downer’s Grove, IL; wrinkled prairie dock leaf (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Illinois DNR, The Nature Conservancy IL, Downer’s Grove Park District, Downer’s Grove, IL; green prairie dock leaf (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Aldo Leopold Prairie Visitor Center prairie planting, Baraboo, WI; feather on prairie plant (both unknown species), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; pasque flowers (Pulsatilla patens) Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa) and Indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans)  at Prairiewoods, Hiawatha, IA; ball gall, Prairiewoods, Hiawatha, IA; unburned savanna and burned prairie at Prairiewoods, Hiawatha, IA; prescribed burn sign, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL; prescribed burn in the distance, viewed from The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.