“…Are we through discovering the world’s marvels? Only if we stop looking. The answer, I think, is to travel not farther but deeper…start with the ground beneath your feet.”—Doreen Pfost
I head to the prairie for a hike. A wall of snow, scooped from the cleared parking lot, blocks the trail. As I contemplate scrambling over the barrier, my fingers throb with cold. The wind picks up. I turn back to the car.
Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
“Wimp!” I scold myself. Ah, well. Sometimes, the prairie is best seen from a distance. At least on days when the wind chill is 30 below zero Fahrenheit.
Russell R. Kirt Prairie, College of DuPage, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Last Thursday, the sandhill cranes seemed to intuit that our deep freeze was on the way. As I sat in my car in the school pickup line, waiting on my grandchildren, waves of cranes flew south overhead.
I counted. And counted. And counted some more. By the time the bell rang to close the school day, more than 1,100 cranes had flown over. And those are just the ones I saw.
Sometimes, the ordinary is disrupted. What we think we know is turned upside down, inside out. Cranes moving south in January? I’ve not seen them moving south at this time of year before.
We live in a world full of wonders. It’s easy to forget this. In the opening quote that kicks off today’s post, naturalist and writer Doreen Pfost notes that there is virtually “no place on earth where someone else has not already been.” The prairies in my region, both planted and remnant, testify to this.
PrairiePond Walk & Dragonfly Landing, Lisle, IL.
Yet, she writes, that doesn’t mean we’re through discovering the world’s marvels. Instead of going farther, we go deeper, she says.
Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Deeper? Yes. A matter of realizing that our familiar places have more secrets to tell us. If we pay attention.
And sometimes, on days like the ones we’ve had this week, we can only peer through the frosted windows and take in the view outside from indoors.
Sundog and sun halo, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
There are marvels all around us, even in the deep freeze. Perhaps especially in the deep freeze.
They are waiting for us to notice.
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Doreen Pfost (1958-)is the author of the lovely book, This River Beneath the Sky: A Year on the Platte from University of Nebraska Press (2016). She is a volunteer naturalist who guides visitors to observation blinds at Audubon’s Rowe Sanctuary during the spring sandhill crane migration. Pfost also collects data for the Breeding Bird Atlas project. She lives in Wisconsin
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Join Cindy for a class or a program online in January!
1/17/24–-“Winter Prairie Wonders: Online” 7-8:30 p.m. hosted by the Bensenville Public Library, Bensenville, IL. Free and open to the public! For more information, visit their website here.
1/18/24–“Winter Prairie Wonders: Online” 7-8:30 p.m. hosted by the Wild Ones of Greater DuPage, IL. For more information, visit their website here.
1/22/24–-“Literary Gardens: Online” 7-8:30 p.m. with the Arlington Heights Memorial Public Library and Arlington Heights Garden Club, Arlington Heights, IL. Free and open to the public! Watch Party will be at the library, or see it in real time online (Cindy will be virtual). Visit the library’s website for more information here.
Great white trillium (Trillium grandiflorum), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Now, they begin to wither and go to seed.
White trout lilies (Erythronium albidum), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
The trout lilies, like so many of our spring wildflowers, depend on ants for seed dispersal, as do trilliums, violets, and many others. As the spring woodland wildflowers begin their march off of center stage, it’s time for the tallgrass prairie wildflowers to shine.
Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Let’s go for a hike and take a look.
At a glance, the prairie looks like nothing but green, green, green. But come closer.
We pull this invader from the prairie each spring, hoping to slow it down, as we do another member of the mustard family, dame’s rocket. And of course, we pull the garlic mustard—that terror of the woodlands and natural areas. There’s a lot of chatter right now about garlic mustard control. Should we leave garlic mustard alone? Bag it after we pull it? Or wait and hope the garlic mustard aphid shows up to help control the populations? For now, our stewardship group yanks it and piles it. We’ll see what the future holds.
Meanwhile, something is munching the new prairie dock leaves. Two somethings! Interesting.
Two insects on prairie dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.iNaturalist suggests these are goldenrod leaf miner beetles (Microrhopala vittata), but Iwouldn’t swear to it.
Nearby, prairie violet is out in full regalia.
Prairie violet (Viola pedatifida), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
The prairie violets are one of several violets native to our tallgrass prairies. Unlike the native common blue violet (Illinois’ state flower), the prairie violet has deeply lobed leaves.
Prairie violet (Viola pedatifida), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
On the Belmont Prairie in Downers Grove, you’ll see it paired with the native wild strawberry.
Prairie violet (Viola pedatifida) and wild strawberry (Fragaria virginiana), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
The Belmont Prairie in Downers Grove wasn’t burned this spring, so I have to look deep in the grasses to find the violet wood-sorrel.
Violet wood-sorrel (Oxalis violacea), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
That color! Such a pale lavender.
Violet wood-sorrel (Oxalis violacea), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
The leaves of the violet wood-sorrel are as charming as the flowers.
Violet wood-sorrel (Oxalis violacea), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Blue-eyed grass is another charming prairie wildflower.
Blue-eyed grass (probably Sisyrinchium albidum), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Ironically, it is neither blue here, nor is it a grass. It’s in the Iris Family. And look at all those pollinators!
Blue-eyed grass (probably Sisyrinchium albidum), Belmont Prairie, Downer’s Grove, IL.
But it’s the hoary puccoon that I can’t stop oohing and aahing over today.
Hoary puccoon (Lithospermumcanescens), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
The ants seem to appreciate the hoary puccoon as much as I do.
Hoary puccoon (Lithospermumcanescens), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.(Ant may be in the Formica Family).
My old friend, bastard toadflax, has opened.
Bastard toadflax (Comandra umbellata), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
What a beautiful day!
Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Wildflowers and grasses on the prairie are waking up!
Why not go see?
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The opening quote is from William A. Quayle (1860-1925) in The Prairie and the Sea (1905). An excerpt appears in John T. Price’s The Tallgrass Prairie Reader, University of Iowa Press, 2014).
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Illinois’ Wild and Wonderful Early Bloomers—Thursday, May 11, 9:30-10:30 a.m. Sponsored by the Hilltop Gardeners Garden Club, Oswego Public Library, Oswego, IL. Free and open to the public. For more information closer to the date, check here.
Dragonflies and Damselflies: Frequent Fliers of the Garden and Prairie, Tuesday, May 16, 10-11:30 via Zoom with the Garden Club of Decatur, IL (closed event for members). For information on joining the club, visit here.
I’m excited to moderate “In Conversation Online with Robin Wall Kimmerer,” June 21, 2023, 7-8 pm via Zoom. Brought to you by “Illinois Libraries Present.” Number of registrations available may be limited, so register here soon!
“To everything, turn, turn, turn; there is a season, turn, turn, turn… .” —Pete Seeger
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Now the mercury in the thermometer slips below 30 degrees, although the sun may shine bright in a bright blue sky. Leaves from the savanna float along on Willoway Brook, which winds through the Schulenberg prairie. It’s a time of transition. A time of reflection.
Willoway Brook, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
The first substantial snowfall arrived last night in the Chicago region. This morning, it turned the world blue and black in the dawn light.
Early morning, first snowfall, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
The projects we’ve put off outdoors seem more urgent now. No more procrastinating.
Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Winter is on the way. And this morning, we feel it’s already here.
Snow on prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), early morning, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
In the garden, the garlic cloves are tucked into their bed of soil with leaves mounded over them as protection against the cold. Next July, as I harvest the sturdy garlic bulbs and scapes, I’ll look back and think, “Where did the time go?” It seems after you turn sixty, the weeks and months just slip away.
…and also to the bok choy I’ve let stand in the garden, hoping to harvest it over Thanksgiving.
Bok choy (Brassica rapa subspecies chinensis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Both will take a light frost and flourish in cooler temperatures. But, they didn’t survive the the dip into the 20s very well on Monday morning. I should have covered them! Ah, well. Too late, now. Although I clean up my vegetable garden beds, I leave most of the prairie plants in my yard standing through winter; little Airbnb’s for the native insects that call them home over the winter. The prairie seeds provide lunch for goldfinches and other birds. I think of last winter, and how the goldfinches and redpolls clustered at the thistle feeders while snow fell all around.
Rare irruption of common redpolls (Acanthis flammea) in March, 2022, feeding with American goldfinches (Spinus tristis), Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL. Jeff and I counted hundreds of redpolls congregating at a time.
A few miles away on the Schulenberg Prairie, the tallgrass is full of seeds. The prairie tries to see how many variations on metallics it can conjure. Gold…
Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
…silver…
Common Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Transitions demand that we pay attention. Expend a little energy.
Sure, they can be rough.
Prairie dock (Silphium terabinthinaceum), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
But bring on the change.
Hello, snow. I’m ready for you.
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The song “Turn, Turn, Turn!” was written by American folk singer Pete Seeger (1919-2014) and performed in the 1950s, then made popular by The Byrds in 1965. If you’re familiar with the Book of Ecclesiastes, in the old King James Version of the Bible, you’ll see the lyrics are almost verbatim from the third chapter, although in a different order. The Limeliters (1962), Pete Seeger (1962), Judy Collins (1966), Dolly Parton (1984), and others have also performed the song. According to Wikipedia, the Byrds version has the distinction in the United States of being the number one hit with the oldest lyrics, as the words are attributed to King Solomon from the 10th Century, BC.
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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 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.
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Watch for the annual “Reading the Prairie” book review round-up next week! Just in time for the holidays.
“The joy that…identifying moths can bring proves unbridled, instructive, and revelatory.” —James Lowen
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What happens on the prairie after dark?
Learning about moths with Trevor Edmonson on the Schulenberg Prairie (2019).
More than you might think.
This past week, a small contingent of my prairie volunteer group continued our quest to learn what species of moths live and fly on the prairie. Since 2019, we’ve explored the exciting world of prairie moths by putting up a few sheets, hanging a mercury vapor light and a black light, and seeing what shows up. None of us are trained in moth ID, but thanks to iNaturalist , an app we use on our phones that helps with identification, we’re making progress. We’re not experts—nope, not by a long shot—but we are learning.
Using field guides like this one has been invaluable.
Peterson Field Guide to Moths.
But moths aren’t an easy species to understand. That said… .
We’ve learned that some moths can be found in the daytime—if you look closely in the tallgrass.
We’ve found there are 160,000 or more moth species in the world. That’s about 10 times as many moths species as there are butterfly species. The United States alone has around 11,000 species of Moths. Wow!
Haploa Moth (Haploa sp.) caterpillar, Belmont Prairie, IL (May 2022).
We’re learning that many moths have specific plant hosts. One of our rarest moths, Dichagryis reliqua “The Relic” has turned up every year since we began monitoring. Why? It uses prairie dropseed as its host plant —and we have it, in abundance.
Prairie Dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL (2016).
It’s impossible not to marvel at these diverse flying insects. They pollinate some of our favorite plants, and they are an important source of food for many birds, bats, and insects. Plus—look how pretty they are! We cheer when we see the pink streak moth.
And we puzzle over identifying many, many more we see. Moth identification isn’t easy! There’s so much to discover about moths.
And there is so much to learn about prairie, and how our management affects the creatures who depend on certain prairie plants. So far, we’ve identified about 130 moth species on our 100 acres. One of our prairie artists captured some of them on this beautiful mug.
“Moths of the June Schulenberg Prairie” mug by Karen Johnson at Karen’s Nature Art.
We’ve only scratched the surface of what’s flying in the tallgrass and savanna. There are 1,850 moth species in Illinois. Can you imagine what else we’ll see in the future, after dark? All we have to do is show up and pay attention. A sense of curiosity about the natural world will take you a long way.
There’s much we still don’t comprehend. But we do know this: The hours we spend learning about our prairie moths? It’s time well spent.
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James Lowen, whose quote about moths kicks off today’s post, is the author of Much Ado About Mothing: A Year Intoxicated By Britain’s Rare And Remarkable Moths, a fascinating and detailed look at a Moth Big Year in Great Britain.
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Join Cindy for a Program in August!
West Cook Wild Ones presents:A Brief History of Trees in Americawith Cindy 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.
“Sudden swarm of snail clouds, brings back the evening’s symmetry.” –Mykola Vorobyov
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Sunday marked the end of astronomical winter, as the vernal equinox signaled the transition to spring. The earth spins on its axis, balancing day and night. For a few months ahead, the hours of light will outnumber the hours of darkness.
Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Temperatures soar into the 70s. Spring bulbs, planted as solace during that first pandemic autumn, wake up and unfurl their colors: purple, lemon, cream. I think of Mary Oliver’s poem “Peonies“ in which she asked, “Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden“? Yes! As I start the coffee, I glimpse a new crocus or jonquil from the kitchen window and rush outside to see it. Welcome back! The return of these flowers reminds me it’s the two-year anniversary of the lock down in Illinois.
We’ve come a long way. Uncertainty still shadows our days.
Prairie and savanna burn, Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
We dig deep. Find resilience. When it isn’t enough, we dig deeper and scrape up more.
But we’re tired.
Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
We hang on. What else can we do?
Marcescentleaves on an oak , Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
As I read the newspaper each morning, my thoughts drift to halfway across the globe.
Sunflower (Helianthus sp.), the national flower of Ukraine, Crosby’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
How do we make sense of the senseless? The world seems ripped apart.
Spider silk, Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downers Grove, IL.
Global pandemics. War. Uncertainty. They remind me to cherish each moment.
In A Natural History of the Senses, Diane Ackerman writes: “So much of our life passes in a comfortable blur. Living on the senses requires an easily triggered sense of marvel, a little extra energy, and most people are lazy about life.Life is something that happens to them while they wait for death.”
Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
It takes so little to wake up to wonder. But that “little extra energy” feels drained by the past two years. And yet. I don’t want to squander this time I’ve been given.
Rattlesnake master (Eryngium yuccifolium), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
What a joy it is to have the freedom to rise in the morning and go for a walk, just to admire the world! To look at the sky. To appreciate the clouds, or hunt for the first shoots of new plants. This week, I’ve been reminded of what a privilege it is.
Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
There is so much I can’t do. But no matter what is happening in the world, I can pay attention to the beauty around me, no matter how small.
Wild strawberry (Fragaria virginiana), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
I’m looking for signs of change. Memos of hope.
Blue flag iris (Iris versicolor), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
The days pass so quickly. But I can make these moments count.
Pale purple coneflower (Echinacea pallida), Belmont Prairie, Downers Grove, IL.
Cultivating hope this week means digging deep for that “extra energy” to pay attention, even if it’s only a moment in the garden, time at the kitchen window watching the birds, or taking five minutes to admire the sunset. I don’t know any other way to make sense of the senseless.
Sunset, Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.
I only know I need to stay present to these moments of wonder.
Keep walking. Keep looking. Stay awake.
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The opening quote is a line from Ukrainian poet Mykola Vorobyov (1941-) from the poem Muddy Shore in his collection, “Wild Dog Rose Moon” (translated by Myrosia Stefaniuk). Vorobyyov studied philosophy at the University of Kiev in the 1960s, but was expelled and then monitored by the KGB, who refused to let him publish his work. Today, he is the author of four poetry collections and two children’s books.
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.
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.
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.
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.
“Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder.” — E.B. White
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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 readingAtomic 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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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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.
“I can stop what I am doing long enough to see where I am, who I am there with, and how awesome the place is.” —Barbara Brown Taylor
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Late November.
Sandhill cranes cry high above the prairie, scribbling indecipherable messages in the sky. They’re on the move south.
Sandhill cranes (Antigone canadensis), Glen Ellyn, IL (Spring 2021).
I’ll scan the skies the next few weeks, admiring them as they leave. The prairie skies will be emptier this winter when they’re gone. Months from now, I’ll see them again, heading north in the spring. What will the world look like then? It’s impossible to know.
The prairie in November.
I hike the prairie, deep in thought. It’s so easy to focus on what is being lost. November, with its seasonal slide into long nights and short days, seems to invite that. I have to remind myself to pay attention to what is in front of me. What the season offers. Seeds. Everywhere, the prairie is an explosion of seeds.
Silky seeds.
Common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca).
Flat seeds.
Compass plant (Silphium laciniatum).
Silvery seedheads.
Mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum).
Seeds like pom poms.
Savanna blazing star (Liatris scariosa nieuwlandii).
Seeds born aloft, in spent flower heads, like so many antenna.
Wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa).
Seedheads are skeletal. Architectural.
Sweet joe pye weed (Eutrochium purpureum).
Seeds are impressionistic.
Bridge over Willoway Brook.
Seeds reflected.
Illinois bundleflower (Desmanthus illinoensis).
Seeds wind-directed.
Prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis).
Bird-nibbled seeds.
Gray-headed coneflower (Ratibida pinnata).
Seeds feathered.
Little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium).
Seeds flying high in the prairie sky.
Prairie dock (Silphium terabinthinaceum).
Seeds caught in mid-fall. Almost there. Almost.
Black walnut (Juglans nigra) in American bladdernut shrub (Staphylea trifolia).
The pandemic has dragged on and on. Just when I thought we’d turned a corner—almost!—it feels like we’re headed in the wrong direction again. Seems we’re not out of the woods yet.
Schulenberg Prairie Savanna.
It’s easy to get distracted, worrying about the future. Sometimes my mind turns over my fears in a relentless cycle. Reading the newspaper over breakfast just fuels the fire. I forget to remind myself of all I have to be grateful for.
Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum.
Family. Friends. Food on the table. A roof over my head. This prairie to help care for.
Schulenberg Prairie entrance, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
It helps me to list these things. And then, to remind myself what’s good and lovely in the world.
Bridge over Willoway Brook.
I’m thankful to see the prairie seeds.
Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii).
They remind me that another season has passed.
Oak (Quercus spp.) leaves, Schulenberg Prairie Savanna.
A new season is just months away. Seeing the prairie give its energy to creating life through its seeds fills me with hope. Such a cycle! What a marvel.
The prairie in November.
Here, in the tallgrass, I see a world full of color. Motion. Sound. Beauty. The only tallgrass headlines are “Wow!”
The prairie in November.
How wonderful it is to be alive.
Schulenberg Prairie Savanna.
I walk, and I look, and I walk some more. How amazing to have the luxury of going to a beautiful place, with time just to think. How grateful I am to have a strong knee now, to take me down these trails that just three years ago gave me tremendous pain to hike.
Prairie two-track.
How overwhelmed with thanks I am that my body is cancer-free, after two years of uncertainty and fear. How grateful I am for this reprieve. There are no guarantees. We can only, as the late writer Barry Lopez wrote, keep “leaning into the light.”
Stiff goldenrod (Oligoneuron rigidum).
Your list of worries is probably different than mine. So, I imagine, is your list of what you’re thankful for. I hope this week finds you in a good place. I hope you have your own list of what brings you joy, in the midst of whatever you are dealing with.
The prairie in November.
This week I’m going to put aside my worries about the future. I’m going to focus on joy. There’s a lot to be thankful for. The prairie reminds me of this. I hope you can go for a hike, wherever you find yourself, and be reminded, too.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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All photos this week unless otherwise noted are from the Schulenberg Prairie at The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
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The opening quote is from Barbara Brown Taylor’s (1951-) An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. She is also the author of Learning to Walk in the Dark and many other books.
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Join Cindy for a program or class!
Winter Prairie Wonders: Discover the December Delights of the Tallgrass!Dec. 3 (Friday) 10-11:30 am (Central): Make yourself a cup of hot tea, snuggle under a warm afghan, and join prairie steward and writer Cindy Crosby virtually for this interactive online immersion into the tallgrass prairie in winter. See the aesthetic beauty of the snow-covered grasses and wildflowers in cold weather through colorful images of winter on the prairies. Follow animal tracks to see what creatures are out and about, and see how many you can identify. Learn how birds, pollinators, and mammals use winter prairie plants; the seeds for nourishment and the grasses and spent wildflowers for overwintering, protection, and cover. Then, listen as Cindy shares brief readings about the prairie in winter that will engage your creativity and nourish your soul. This is scheduled as a Zoom event through The Morton Arboretum. Register here.
Please visit your local independent bookstore (Illinois’ friends: The Arboretum Store in Lisle and The Book Store in Glen Ellyn) to purchase or order Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spiritfor the holidays. Discover full-color prairie photographs and essays from Cindy and co-author Thomas Dean.
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Save Bell Bowl Prairie! Visit the website to find out how you can help keep this critical remnant from being bulldozed in Illinois. One phone call, one letter, or sharing the information with five friends will help us save it.
“Thou blossom bright with autumn dew… .”—William Cullen Bryant
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September on the prairie opens with a suite of delights, despite the dry weather in the Chicago region. Skies this past week veered between a celestial milky ice…
Schulenberg Prairie trail, Lisle, IL.
…to a startling aquamarine fleeced with clouds.
Ware Field plantings, Lisle, IL.
In my backyard mix of traditional garden and prairie, a Cooper’s hawk keeps an eye on the bird feeders. She considers the whole spread her personal salad bar. The chipmunks and hummingbirds won’t get close, but the squirrels take a more laissez-faire approach. Not a bunny in sight.
Fall wildflowers and grasses fling themselves into the new month, bent on completing their cycle of bloom and set seed; bloom and set seed; bloom and set seed.
Indian Grass (Sorghastrum nutans) and Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii).
The low light filters through the now-golding tree leaves, a memo from nature that time is running out for warm season pursuits. I love the seed variety in the prairies and savannas. They range from sharp…
False Solomon’s Seal (Maianthemum racemosum), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna, Lisle, IL.
Pale asters froth up like foamy cappuccinos.
Ware Field planting in early September.
As I hike the prairie trails, I look for some of my fall favorites. White goldenrod, which looks like an aster, is tough to find but worth the hunt. That name! Such an oxymoron.
White goldenrod (Oligoneuron album), Schulenberg Prairie, Lisle, IL.
Hyssop stands out in the savannas; a pollinator plant favorite.
But the blue gentians are an extra dollop of delight.
Downy (or Prairie) Gentian (Gentiana puberulenta), DuPage County, IL.
As I admire the deep, deep, blues, I think a William Cullen Bryant poem about fringed gentians:
“Blue-blue-as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.“
I don’t find fringed gentians on my walk today, but I’ve seen them in previous years. I do discover, nearby in the tallgrass, the Stiff Gentians, sometimes called “Agueweed.” They are almost ready to open.
Stiff Gentian (Gentianella quinquefolia), DuPage County, IL.
Soon they’ll bloom, and add their tiny flowers to the prairies.
Cool breezes! That sunshine. What a day to go for a hike. I want to wander through the tallgrass, spangled with gentians, under September skies. Inhale prairie dropseed fragrance. Feel the tallgrass brush my shoulders. Feel the cares of the past week roll off my shoulders.
Possibly a Hybrid Bottle Gentian (Gentiana × pallidocyanea), DuPage County, IL.
Is there a better way to begin the month? If there is, I don’t know what it would be.
Why not go see?
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The opening line is from William Cullen Bryant’s poem, To the Fringed Gentian. Click here to read the poem in its entirety on the Poetry Foundation’s website. You may know Bryant’s poetic line, “Truth crushed to earth shall rise again” — made famous by Dr. Martin Luther King Junior in his speech, “Give Us the Ballot.”
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September 9, 9:30-11 am– in person–“The Tallgrass Prairie: Illinois Original Garden” Oswego Hilltoppers Garden Club, Oswego Public Library. Please visit the club’s Facebook page for guest information, event updates pending Covid positivity in Illinois, and Covid protocol. Masks required for this event.
September 27, 7-8:30 p.m.–in person–“The Tallgrass Prairie: Illinois Original Garden” Arlington Heights Garden Club. Please visit the club’s website here for guest information, event updates pending Covid positivity in Illinois, and Covid protocol.
“Let all thy joys be as the month of May”—Francis Quarles
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Is there a more beautiful time in the Midwest than mid-May?
It’s been a week for the birds. Migrating birds, that is. In the woods, the great crested flycatcher calls. Such a distinctive voice!
Great crested flycatcher (Myiarchus crinitus), Norris Woods Nature Preserve, St. Charles, IL.
I’ve read that the great crested flycatcher weaves unusual items into its nest: snakeskin, cellophane, plastic wrappers. Wouldn’t I love to spot one of those nests! This is the first great crested flycatcher I’ve ever seen. How did I miss it all these years? Likely I was busy looking down, not up: at the wildflowers.
Twinleaf (Jeffersonia diphyllagone) with seed capsule, Norris Woods Nature Preserve, St. Charles, IL.
Seeing the flycatcher is one of the wonderful benefits of hiking with knowledgeable birding friends. If I had been hiking alone, I would have been looking at wildflowers, and likely missed it.
Probably white baneberry or doll’s eyes (Actaea pachypoda), Norris Woods Nature Preserve, St. Charles, IL.
In his poem The May Magnificant, Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote: “Question: What is Spring–Growth in everything–Flesh and fleece; fur and feather; Grass and green world altogether… .” As we hike through the green, green, green woods, we discover a single, random feather. Our birding friends tell us it may be a young owlet’s. I would love to know how it came to be here along the trail.
Young owlet feather, Norris Woods, St. Charles, IL.
High in a tree, an indigo bunting surprises us. I love Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s description of the bunting; “a scrap of sky with wings.”
Most of the “blues” I see in the bird world belong to the blue jays that stop by my feeder. This past week, there’s been the color orange as well—the Baltimore orioles who love the grape jelly and orange halves we put out for them.
Prairie coreopsis. Great angelica. Prairie smoke. Anise hyssop. So many plants! When I ordered earlier this season, where did I imagine I could put them all? At the end of the day—a lonnnnng planting day—every plant had a seat in the prairie. Now it’s up to them and the weather.
As I turned on the hose to wash the dirt from my hands, I heard the first American toad of the year in our little pond. I turned the water back off to listen. Have you ever heard the American toad? No? You can hear it here. At night, when we crack open our bedroom window for the breeze, the sound can be deafening. In the forest preserve wetlands, lakes, and ponds, the American toad trillllllllll is a warm weather soundtrack for our hikes.
Hidden Lake Forest Preserve, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Birds! Toads. Plants. Wildflowers. The writer Ellis Peters wrote, “Every spring is a perpetual astonishment.” It’s difficult to know where to look. So much is happening on the prairies and in the woodlands. How can I choose where to hike? And so much is happening, right under my nose, here in my yard!
Near my prairie patch, the pawpaw tree is in bloom. Such an unusual flower color! That brownish-maroon reminds me of wild ginger blooms. For fun, I try to match the flower color to a lipstick shade. The closest I find is “Cherry Cocoa” or maybe, “Love in Maroon.” What do you think?
Pawpaw (Asimina triloba) tree in bloom, Cindy’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL.
Butterflies pass me as I examine the pawpaw flowers. Cabbage white butterflies showed up early this spring, stopping to lay a few eggs on my overwintered kale and kohlrabi. I don’t grudge them a few leaves. Especially since this year’s overwintered crop is a bonus. A gift to share.
Overwintered kale (Brassica oleracea, Acephala group) and kohlrabi (Brassica oleracea, Gongylodes group) going to seed, Cindy’s garden, Glen Ellyn, IL.
I saw my first tiger swallowtail last week, and a few friends have reported monarchs. Pearl crescent butterflies pass through the prairies and savannas, taking a moment to pause and let me admire their bright colors. They’re a common sight, and will continue to be throughout the summer. But no less delightful, for being so ubiquitous.
Pearl crescent butterfly (Phyciodes tharos), Norris Woods, St. Charles, IL.
The pearl crescent butterflies enjoy a wide variety of flowers. There are plenty of blooms to choose from in the middle of May. Wild geraniums are still going strong on the prairies and in the woodlands. Is it my imagination, or are they lingering longer this year? Maybe it’s the cool weather?
Wild geranium (Geranium maculatum), The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL. (2017)
Prairie, woodland, and savanna spring wildflowers are best seen up close.
Examining the wild hyacinth (Camassia scilloides), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.
Then, when something unusual comes along, you’ll have a ringside seat.
Nessus Sphinx Moth (Amphion floridensis) on wild geranium (Geranium maculatum), Norris Woods Nature Preserve, St. Charles, IL.
And—you’ll thank your lucky stars—so grateful and glad that you went for a hike in the middle of May.
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The opening quote is by Francis Quarles (1592-1644), an English poet. One of his descendants was the poet Langston Hughes (1901-1967), a celebrated poet and author.
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Join Cindy for a program or class!
The Tallgrass Prairie: Illinois Original Garden Online: June 2, 7-8:30 p.m. Illinois’ nickname is “The Prairie State.” Listen to stories of the history of the tallgrass prairie and its amazing plants and creatures –-from blooms to butterflies to bison. Discover plants that work well in the home garden as you enjoy learning about Illinois’ “landscape of home.” Presented by Sag Moraine Native Plant Community. More information here.
Literary Gardens Online: June 8, 6:30-7:30 p.m. Join master gardener and natural history writer Cindy Crosby for a fun look at gardens in literature and poetry. From Agatha Christie’s mystery series, to Brother Cadfael’s medieval herb garden, to Michael Pollan’s garden in “Second Nature,” to the “secret garden” beloved of children’s literature, there are so many gardens that helped shape the books we love to read. Discover how gardens and garden imagery figure in the works of Mary Oliver, Henry Mitchell, Barbara Kingsolver, Lewis Carroll–and many more! See your garden with new eyes—and come away with a list of books you can’t wait to explore. Registration through the Downers Grove Public Library coming soon 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. Offered through The Morton Arboretum. Register here.
Thanks to Tricia Lowery and John Heneghan for the afternoon hike, the gift of the prairie plants, and help with spotting wonderful flying critters this week.
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 