A prairie prayer

 

By Mary Kay Roth

Tallgrasses shimmer and shiver on this crisp-clear February afternoon, only a tickle of a breeze whispering and rustling over the land.  An absolutely perfect, sky-blue sky hovers above. And I breathe in one of the most serene sanctuaries I know, Spring Creek Prairie, a tallgrass prairie preserve found only 20 miles southwest of town.

There is simply something mystical about a prairie. 

The land here holds me close.  Embraces, cradles me in its arms. Keeps me safe and steady.

I’ve always said the outdoors is where I find my spirituality. The prairie is one beloved church where I pray.

Looking back, one of the best things I believe I did for my children was to immerse them in the great outdoors.  However, I may have failed in my mission to honor their own native horizons. 

Josh prefers the majesty and wonder of the mountains.  Anna would choose the hypnotic, turquoise waves of an ocean.

I will always be a prairie girl.

Glowing ever so quietly with nuanced beauty, the prairie offers a solid certainty that life is large and wide and somehow everything will be ok.  A prairie reaches deep into my soul and smooths out my crazy. 

And it seems almost everyone has their share of crazy these days.  I’ve had my own.  

Someone rear-ended and totaled my beloved car. Verizon folks are puzzled why my data refuses to transfer onto a new phone and Saturday’s Wordle took me six guesses. This week one of the fiercest, most fearless activists died in a Russian prison and a shooting in Kansas City came far too close to some of the dearest people in my life.  Meantime, the dog trainer says my puppy barks at people because she’s afraid of the world.  

At this point in life, many might turn to counselors. Medication. Meditation.  Chanting.

I go to the prairie.  

Strangely it doesn’t really solve my problems, it simply reminds me there is something bigger – greater.  No matter what happens in life, the raw and uncluttered beauty of a prairie vista will go on and on, as far as the eye can see. And the tallgrasses will continue rustling in the wind.

Other folks have said it better.

• Willa Cather: “As I looked about me, I felt that the grass was the country, as the water is the sea. The red of the grass made all the great prairie the colour of winestains, or of certain seaweeds when they are first washed up. And there was so much motion in it; the whole country seemed, somehow, to be running.”  
• Walt Whitman: “While I know the standard claim is that Yosemite, Niagara Falls, the Upper Yellowstone and the like afford the greatest natural shows, I am not so sure but the prairies and plains, while less stunning at first sight, last longer, fill the esthetic sense fuller, precede all the rest, and make North America’s characteristic landscape.”

Yet we must tread cautiously on this precious ground.  Once upon a time, tallgrass prairie covered 142 million acres. Today about one percent of North American prairies still exist, only 30 million acres, making prairies one of the rarest, most endangered ecosystems in the world. 

Yet if you live in Lincoln, prairies linger close.  

A wonderful patch of prairie grows on the far side of Pioneers Park.  Nine-Mile Prairie perches on the northwest edge of Lincoln.

And Spring Creek Prairie Audubon Center is an easy drive away. Now at 1,160 acres – they added 310 more acres in a recent purchase – I can wander three miles of walking trails here, through native grasslands, wetlands and ponds.

Scientists tell us prairies require little maintenance – no need for fertilizers or pesticides – build soil, capture carbon, trap sediment, provide rare native habitat for birds, butterflies, insects, reptiles and many small critters. 

But to be completely honest, I love prairies for more than their ecology.

I love them for their powerful connection to something more. I love them for their gentle heart.  For their restrained announcement of spring in subtle shades of emerald and olive green – for their summery tallgrasses reaching high, sunflowers towering above and birds practically screaming with joy – for their autumn landscape of burnished russet, ruby red and deep shadow.  

Even on this wintry afternoon, with acres and acres of brittle browns and austere grays, there’s something cozy and comforting at Spring Creek.

So, this afternoon I take time to lie down and disappear into the grasses, looking up into an endless sky, the silence around me, almost unbelievable.

I can hear my own heartbeat, feel the pulse of the land, practically feel the earth turning, as I nestle down and burrow even deeper into the prairie, lingering here for just a little while longer.     

*Spring Creek Prairie: https://springcreek.audubon.org/