A Moment of Prairie Peace

“When despair for the world grows in me… .” — Wendell Berry

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It’s tough to find words this morning. So—let’s go for a walk.

River jewelwing (Calopteryx aequabilis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

There is solace in watching damselflies. They flaunt and flirt and flutter in the cool July streams…

Ebony jewelwing damselflies (Calopteryx maculata) and river jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx aequabilis), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Their cares are so different than my own. What do they worry about, I wonder?

Springwater dancer damselfly (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Perhaps they keep an eye out for darting tree swallows, or a floating frog.

American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Maybe they watch for a ravenous fish, lurking just beneath the stream’s surface. Or even a hungry dragonfly.

Virginia bunch-flower (Melanthium virginicum) and widow skimmer dragonfly (Libellula luctuosa), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

As I walk and look around the prairie, I feel myself become calmer. The bumblebees and honeybees and native bees go about their life’s work of visiting flowers. Not a bad way to live.

Assorted bees on purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

The poet Mary Oliver writes in her poem, “Invitation”: “It is a serious thing/ just to be alive/ on this fresh morning/ in this broken world.”

Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

I wade into the stream and watch the damselflies. Some scout for insects. Others perch silently along the shoreline.

River bluet (Enallagma anna), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Others are busy dancing a tango with a partner…

Springwater dancer damselflies (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

…laying groundwork for the future.

Ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata) ovipositing, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Today, all I can do is walk in this world. All I can do is look.

Male ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata), Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

Pay attention.

Summer on the Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

I don’t want to stop feeling. Or stop caring.

Eastern amberwing dragonfly (Perithemis tenera) on unknown water lily , Lisle, IL.

I never want to be numb to the grief in this world, even when it feels overwhelming.

Fame Flower Knob, Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL.

But it feels like too much sometimes.

And even though the world seems broken beyond repair right now, when I look around me….

Michigan lily (Lilium michiganense), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.

… I’m reminded of how beautiful it can be.

Calico pennant dragonfly (Celithemis elisa) , Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

What will it take for things to change?

Common buckeye butterfly (Junonia coenia), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.

Never give up. We need to leave this world a better place than we found it. Even when putting the pieces back together feels impossible.

I need that reminder today.

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Wendell Berry (1934-) is a writer, environmental activist, novelist, essayist, and farmer. The beginning of his poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” opens this blog. You can read the complete poem here. It’s a good one.

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Upcoming Classes and Programs

Learn more about dragonflies and damselflies in Beginning Dragonfly and Damselfly ID, a two-part class online and in-person. Join Cindy on Thursday, July 14, for a two-hour Zoom then Friday, July 15 for three hours in the field at The Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. Register here.

Finding Peace in Wild Things

So much fear in the world right now.

It’s catching. I find myself jumpy, anxious. Feeling like nothing will change. Up against a wall of doubt.

When the world seems like an impossible place, I go to the prairie. This time, instead of going alone, I go with friends. I need the reminder of how much we need each other.  A reminder that we’re not alone in the world.

The late summer and early autumn greens and reds of the grasses are draining away, creating a new palette of rusts, tans, and browns.

It’s quiet here.

Until, suddenly, pheasants fly up – two, three – six! One lands in a tree.

I admire their vibrant colors — that scarlet head — even while acknowledging that pheasants aren’t native to this place. But there’s room here for them.

We have so much.

A Cooper’s hawk settles in near the black plastic mulched plant nursery, where plants are going to seed, which will be used for future restoration efforts. I love the plant nursery, with its sturdy rows of prairie plants. It’s a visual reminder of how we deliberately cultivate hope for change in the future.

The hawk stares me down. Even when we think we’ve got the way forward all figured out and organized, there’s always a wild card.

Look! Just around the corner,  a herd of bison spill over the grassy two track.

One blocks our way.

We keep a respectful distance. The bison stay together, tolerating our presence.

I admire their shaggy chocolate coats; their heft and muscle. Their coats gleam and shine in the late afternoon light.

They know where the juiciest grasses are, even now.

We watch them for a long time before we move away.

The slant of the November sun backlights the prairie like a false frost.

The milk-washed sky brightens; the smell of old grass and decaying chlorophyll  lifts in the autumn chill. I inhale. Exhale. The autumn prairie is changing, seemingly dying.

It’s not the end. Just a transition to the next season.

Fur and feathers…and a sea of grass. My fears are not gone, but they begin to dissolve in the late afternoon light. There is so much to be grateful for.

So much in this world that gives us reason to hope.

All photos by Cindy Crosby from Nachusa Grasslands, Franklin Grove, IL (The Nature Conservancy) 

There is a beautiful (copyrighted!) poem by Wendell Berry, The Peace of Wild Things, that I find a good antidote to difficult times. Find it at The Poetry Foundation: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/171140.