all the little secrets of the prairie

One of my favorite things about the prairie is all of its little secrets. You can look out at its panorama and fail to really see it. At first glance, it can seem kind of boring and not as lush as other places. But if you look closely, and even get down on the ground on your hands and knees and really look, it is amazing to realize the prairie is teeming with life.

Tiny wildflowers and succulents, a myriad of birds calling and singing and flying from tree to tree, trees slowly coming into bloom, rabbits and coyotes and beetles and worms. There is so much happening here, and so many lessons to learn about life, seasons, diversity, and the interconnectedness of everything. There is so much beauty here, some of it huge, much of it tiny.

My life is like that too. Sometimes I can look at a season or relationship and see with eyes of not enough. I can rush through the day without stopping to cultivate gratitude, hope, wisdom, or joy. It’s when I slow down and actually savor the moments and notice the details that I find a symphony of loveliness everywhere I look.

This weekend we planted raspberry canes, tomatoes, spinach, peppers, onions, cosmos and globe flowers. I still have so much to plant. We will be out in the garden working all week, every spare minute that we can. We started tearing the privacy fence down, and clearing out the overgrown raised beds.

The apple trees are blossoming. I have been watering them, and I top-dressed both with a bag of compost each, for a slow nitrogen drip all season. I noticed some big, fat bumblebees buzzing around today when I was out for a walk. Maybe they will come and visit my apple trees soon, and pollinate their blossoms.

The hens are laying daily now, and they love foraging for bugs in the afternoons. We have a couple of retaining walls on the property, built of big stones. I walked outside yesterday just in time to see a hen jump off of the wall onto the ground several feet below. She sort of flapped her wings, gave a panicked squawk mid-fall, and landed in a flurry of feathers, almost tipping over as she fought for balance. Then she stood up very tall, looked around to see if any of the other girls had noticed, flapped her wings a few times, and marched off into a tall shrub to scratch and hunt for bugs.

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