Yesterday a few friends and I journeyed in time, to the
grasslands that once rolled like ancient seas from the river to the mountains,
to a refuge for rare native plants, to a resounding moment of presence at the
heart of the prairie. We walked a paved trail, stopping often to identify and
photograph plants and insects.
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| Rattlesnake master, Eryngium yuccifolium |
Blackberries and black raspberries lined the path just
before it passed into the shade of a red cedar grove. Climbing out of the
shadows, we watched the meadows open before us. Sections of this prairie are
maintained by mowing. The fragrance of new mown hay spilled over us. Rattlesnake
master raised its white globes, and gayfeather gathered butterflies. Bluestem
grass waved at the sky.
The university maintains this land as part of a biological reserve. Some sections are mowed; others are burned or grazed. Some are left
untreated. Old fields have been reseeded with warm and cool season grasses. In
a garden a few miles down the road, ethnobotanists and chemists study the
medicinal properties of native plants. Public trails lead hikers into secret
worlds.
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| Gayfeather, Liatris pychnostachya |
The trail ends at an overlook with a long bench designed to
roll like the prairie. We spread out a picnic on its hills and valleys. We ate
and talked and gazed across the river valley toward the town. We finished as
the sun was setting. The crescent moon emerged from shining clouds.
On our way back, the two fastest walkers went on ahead. As
they followed the turning trail, they seemed to wade to their knees in long
grass until they vanished. A few minutes later we watched two ethereal figures
returning. Our friends appeared transformed, barefoot with flowing skirts and
swirling hair, tall nymphs of the wilderness conversing in musical voices on
the wind. Two strangers said hello as they passed us on their way to the
overlook.
There are moments like this if you pay attention: For the space of a
few heartbeats, strangers on a path embody a glimpse of immanent magic. Spirits of the Meliades tend the pastures, and Nephelai shepherd the wild clouds. Demeter
and her daughter wander through swaying grasses. The moon rides in dusk and
cloud above the shimmering prairie.
