A Spring Prairie Ballot

“Every spring is…a perpetual astonishment.”—Brother Cadfael

*****

It’s election day in the Chicago Region. After casting my vote, I’ll be ready to clear my head of being buffaloed by a deluge of ads, strident television commercials, and unwanted texts (how did they get my phone number, anyway?)

Bison (Bison bison), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

I’m casting my vote for a prairie hike. A vote for spring.

Prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) with spring bulbs, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL (2022).

What’s on the ballot today? Warm weather for starters. This past week (and possibly today) we can expect tornadoes, severe storms, high winds, hail, and a deluge of rain that makes keeping my kayak handy sound like a good idea. I plan to keep a close eye on the weather radar and listen to weatherman Tom Skilling.

Turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) over Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

In my backyard pond, the first marsh marigolds open.

Marsh marigold (Caltha palustris), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Typically, it’s the first native plant in my yard to bloom each year, following my non-native daffodils, crocus, hyacinth, and snowdrops. It’s important not to confuse my marsh marigolds with the non-native, very aggressive lesser celandine (Ficaria verna) which takes over wet areas in neighborhoods and forest preserves.

Invasive non-native lesser celandine, sometimes called fig buttercup (Ficaria verna) Willowbrook Wildlife Center, DuPage Forest Preserve, Glen Ellyn, IL.(2022)

An easy way to tell the native and the non-native apart is to flip a bloom over. The lesser celandine has three green sepals on the back of the bloom; the marsh marigold does not.

The aggressive non-native lesser celandine (Ficaria verna) on the left; the native marsh marigold (Caltha palustris) on the lower right. (2022)

Worth watching for this spring, and learning the difference.

Red admiral butterflies are usually quick to show up around marsh marigold bloom time.

Red admiral butterfly (Vanessa atalanta), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. (2021)

I’m on high alert for the first one in my backyard. As I walk around in the mud, looking for early butterflies, I see the purple hyacinths are in bloom. Ahhh! What a heavenly fragrance.

Purple hyacinth (Hyacinthus orientalis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

But what’s this? Some of our backyard wildlife has sampled the flowers, then ruthlessly tossed them aside.

Broken stem of purple hyacinth (Hyacinthus orientalis), on top of the prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Ugh. Looking closely, I find more hyacinth blooms, stripped and tossed into the prairie dropseed. My eyes narrow. I scan the yard for the culprit. Then, I look up.

Eastern fox squirrel (Sciuris niger), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL. (Undated)

“Who, me?” He’s blaming the chipmunks.

Moving away from the ruined hyacinths, I check the two native spicebush shrubs which seem to have escaped wildlife damage over the winter. The first flower buds are open!

Northern spicebush (Lindera benzoin), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

Charming! I recently read that all parts of Lindera benzoin are said to be edible, including the buds, twigs, flowers and fruit. This pair was planted in 2021, sourced from Possibility Place Nursery, knowing that northern spicebush is a host plant for the spicebush swallowtail butterfly. I’ve never seen the spicebush swallowtail in my yard, but I have high hopes. How have my other native shrubs fared? No flowers on my witch hazel this year, but it’s still young. Next to it, the two-year-old native hazelnut shrub has its first catkins.

American hazelnut (Corylus americana), Crosby’s yard, Glen Ellyn, IL. Note the cut stems!

But—oh no oh no oh no—the bunnies have been busy. Lots of small branches sheared off. How could you? Wascally wabbits! The writer Michael Pollan once wrote in his book, Second Nature, that planting a garden clears the mind of any easy sentiments about wildlife, and nature in general. Hopefully, now that there is more green stuff available to eat, the eastern cottontails will leave my shrubs alone.

Meanwhile, Jacob’s ladder is in bud.

Jacob’s ladder (Polemonium reptans), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

And look at that shooting star! The bunchy leaves are crisp and healthy-looking.

Shooting star (Dodecatheon meadii or Primula meadia), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

I can’t wait to see the flowers in early to mid-May.

Shooting star (Dodecatheon meadia or Primula meadia), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2018)

The few flowers I have in my backyard are beautiful, but they pale in comparison to those massed on the remnant prairies.

Shooting star (Dodecatheon meadia or Primula meadia), Beach Cemetery Prairie, Ogle County, IL. (2022)

In the raised beds, last year’s Italian parsley is resurrecting. My parsley is an open-pollinated biennial, which means if I let it grow this spring, it will eventually set seed. I’m not sure I want to do that—parsley seed doesn’t cost much—but it might be fun to see the flowers. It’s a good host plant for black swallowtail butterfly caterpillars.

Italian parsley (Petroselinum crispum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

The garlic has put on noticeable growth. However, the raised beds need more compost and topsoil. Dirt has a way of settling.

Garlic (Allium sativum), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.

There are some noticeable plant absences. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, where, oh where, is my prairie smoke? And what has happened to the prairie alumroot? It’s coming up, although a bit nibbled.

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

But no sign of the prairie smoke. Fingers crossed.

Out on the prairies, charred earth shows that the site staff and volunteers have been busy.

Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

The storms and showers forecast for today will quickly mist them with green. Spring is here, and on her prairie and garden ballot are a hundred thousand unfolding miracles each day.

Pasque flower (Pulsatilla patens), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL. (Undated)

You only need to show up and pay attention.

Why not go see?

******

The opening quote is from Brother Cadfael, a fictional character in the book A Raven in the Foregate. His character was created by novelist Edith Pargeter (1913-1995) known by her pen name as Ellis Peters. “The Cadfael Chronicles” is a murder mystery series set in the Abbey of Shrewsbury during medieval times, and features this Welsh Benedictine monk, who joins the order after years spent as a soldier. The books were later adapted for television. Pargeter was the recipient of the Edgar Award and Silver Dagger Award for her writing, and authored many other books outside the series. If you haven’t read her books, I’d start with the first in “The Cadfael Chronicles,” A Morbid Taste for Bones.

******

Join Cindy for a Class or Program

Tonight! 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, 8:30-10:30am 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.

More classes and programs at www.cindycrosby.com

Hiking Wolf Road Prairie

“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” — E.B. White

*****

Happy February! January 2022 has come and gone, and with it the realization that I haven’t set in motion some of my New Year’s resolutions. I thought I would have accomplished more of them by now.

Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

But—I’ve been reading Atomic Habits, a new book about getting stuff done, and I’m a little less discouraged by what I haven’t accomplished yet. I’ve got a plan for February. There’s always tomorrow.

Rosette gall, Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

One habit that hasn’t been difficult to maintain is hiking, despite the cold. This weekend, Jeff and I headed for the Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, a remnant black soil prairie not far from our home.

I love the juxtaposition of city and tallgrass at this site. The sky seems so immense.

Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

So much sunshine! So much snow. It almost calls for sunglasses. We shield our eyes with our hands instead.

Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

The clouds look newly-laundered in the cold, fresh air. It’s a lovely day to be outside, despite the chilly temperature.

Wolf Road Prairie is crossed with sidewalks, the ghost skeleton of a subdivision that was almost built here in the 1920s. The Great Depression put an end to it. Jeff always loves scraping aside the snow to find the old walkways.

Sidewalks under the snow at Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

Because of the Save the Prairie Society, a group of people who saw the value of this remnant, Wolf Road Prairie was preserved instead of developed again in the 1970s. Rather than a subdivision, we have this wide-open space, with more than 360 species of native plants.

Unknown aster, Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

I don’t have anything against subdivisions. I live in one. But as I hike, I am grateful for the vision of those who recognized this high quality prairie remnant for the special place it was, and ensured it lives on. We have plenty of subdivisions in the Chicago region. Almost all our prairie remnants like this one are gone.

On our hike, we bump into Wyatt Widmer, the site steward, and a group of volunteers out cutting brush and herbiciding woody plants. It’s inspiring to see them caring for this 82-acre preserve; the prairie—and savanna and wetland—that has brought Jeff and me so much pleasure for so many years. People are an important part of prairie.

Rose mallow (Hibiscus moscheutos), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

Seeing them working is a timely reminder that the prairies which seem so “natural” are kept healthy and vibrant today by dedicated staff and volunteers and the sweat equity they invest. Today, without people to put fire to the last of the prairies, weed and cut brush, and collect seeds and redistribute them, what’s left of our Illinois prairies would eventually disappear. Prairies need our help.

White wild indigo (Baptisia alba), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

As I hike, I think about the prairie where I’m a steward. One of my New Year’s resolutions is to finish my management plan with my co-steward and the natural resources staff at the Arboretum where I volunteer. It feels a little overwhelming to get it done. Our 100-acre prairie has endless numbers of potential projects. What to tackle first?

Evening primrose (Oenothera biennis), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

After conducting a plant inventory in 2016, our group is anxious to replace some of the plants that have gone missing; get them back into circulation. But how to choose? Where to start? We also have a brush problem. A reed canary grass issue. And sumac? Don’t get me started.

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

Seeing these volunteers and the site steward working at Wolf Road Prairie prods me to finish that plan. February is a good time to dream, to make lists, and to be pro-active, rather than re-active. February is a good time to get things done.

Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

I want to be intentional about how the new season on the prairie unfolds.

Rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

But of course…

Probably motherwort (Leonurus cardiaca), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

…the prairie has a mind of its own.

Nodding wild onion (Allium cernuum), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

No matter how many lists I make, plants I order, or projects I envision, Mother Nature will have a say in what happens this year. There will be random events; occurrences I can’t plan for.

Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

Drought, windstorms, flooding, hungry mammals, and yes—Covid—may all play a role in our 2022 season. Even the best planning won’t ensure 100% execution and success.

Pasture thistle leaves (Cirsium discolor), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

But a plan is necessary. And part of my management plan is to be flexible.

River grape (Vitis riparia), Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

To adapt to whatever comes in 2022. To remind myself that when my planning fails, there’s always next year. Keep moving forward. Step by step. Little by little.

Bird’s nest, Wolf Road Prairie Nature Preserve, Westchester, IL.

Good reminders, for the prairie and for myself. We’ll see how it goes.

******

The opening quote is from E. B. White (1899-1985), who was the author of several beloved children’s books including Charlotte’s Web. Writers also know him as the co-author of The Elements of Style. Early in his newspaper career, he was fired by The Seattle Times, and later went to Alaska to work on a fireboat. When he eventually joined the staff of The New Yorker, he was painfully shy, and would only come into the office on Thursdays. There, he met his eventual wife Katharine, the magazine’s literary editor, whose son Roger Angell from her first marriage is the baseball writer and fiction editor at The New Yorker today. In the introduction to Charlotte’s Web, White is quoted as saying “All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.” It showed.

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Join Cindy for a class or program this winter!

February 8-March 1 (Three evenings, 6:30-9pm): The Foundations of Nature Writing Online —Learn the nuts and bolts of excellent nature writing and improve your wordsmithing skills in this online course from The Morton Arboretum. Over the course of four weeks, you will complete three self-paced e-learning modules and attend weekly scheduled Zoom sessions with your instructor and classmates. Whether you’re a blogger, a novelist, a poet, or simply enjoy keeping a personal journal, writing is a fun and meaningful way to deepen your connection to the natural world.  February 8, noon Central time: Access self-paced materials online. February 15, 22, and March 1, 6:30 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. Central time: Attend live. Register here.

March 3–Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online –online class with assignments over 60 days; one live Zoom together. Digitally explore the intricacies of the tallgrass prairie landscape and learn how to restore these signature American ecosystems. Look at the history of this particular type of grassland from the descent of glaciers over the Midwest millions of years ago to the introduction of John Deere’s famous plow to where we are today. We will examine different types of prairie, explore the plant and animal communities of the prairie, and discuss strategies specific to restoring prairies in this engaging online course. Come away with a better understanding of prairies and key insights into how to restore their beauty. You will have 60 days to access the materials. Register here.