Mountains, forests, farms, shore—New England’s landscape is as varied as its seasons, which present a fresh palette like clockwork every three months: delicate pastel crocus in spring; summer’s emerald rolling hills; autumn’s sapphire skies and raucous sugar maples and sassafras; the pristine white and steely gray of winter’s snow, slush and ice.
When I moved from Massachusetts to Nebraska nearly 15 years ago, the landscape seemed drab in comparison. Autumn and winter presented a dull palette of brown, gold and gray; spring was the green upon green of soybeans and early corn; summer, the washed-out beige of dried stalks. And in every season, the air seemed to hold the scent of manure, even in the city, miles away from the fields.
It’s taken several years, but over time as I’ve explored the land, I’ve come to realize that Nebraska’s landscape offers its own beauty and diversity. It’s more subtle—one must look more closely and carefully to notice its nuances—but it’s here.
On a recent Friday morning my son Noah and I hiked one of our favorite spots in Nebraska, Spring Creek Prairie Audubon Center, an 850-acre tall grass nature preserve, located about 20 minutes south of Lincoln. Since we discovered it several years ago, we’ve visited Spring Creek Prairie again and again, in every season. Each time the land and its wild inhabitants reveal something new.
Over the years my family has explored Spring Creek’s miles of walking trails, as well as some of its nearly 650 acres of native—meaning never plowed—tallgrass prairie. I’ve snapped hundreds of photographs of wildflowers, grasses, birds, insects and sunsets, and we’ve enjoyed many of the Center’s family-centered nature programs, like Firefly Fridays and Twilight on the Tallgrass. We’ve also learned the history of the ruts that slice the prairie, remnants of the pioneer wagons that passed through as they headed west more than one hundred years ago.
During our most recent visit, Noah and I looked for bullfrogs from the wooden bridge. Though we heard their song, deep like a rhythmic fog horn thrumming out from the marsh and over the bluestem grass, we failed to spot one from our perch.
We continued up the hill, following the path through early blooming coneflower, milkweed and yarrow, the dew soaking through our sneakers, dampening our socks. The prairie, we noticed, looked different—greener, lusher, the result of the unusually heavy rains we’ve had in Nebraska this spring. Noah’s favorite spot, a secret den beneath a tangle of willow branches, was inaccessible, the path flooded by the expanded pond and marsh.
We spent most of our time at the bottom of a hollow where, high above our heads, the cottonwood leaves whispered like the sound of rushing water. We stood amazed as dozens of dragonflies zipped from one leaf to another, their iridescent wings glinting in the sun. They ranged from cobalt blue to malachite to charcoal black. We wondered whether the insects changed color depending on the angle of the sun, or whether there were actually three different varieties of dragonfly dipping in and out of the shadows.
Most of the dragonflies were skittish, but one, larger than the rest and blue as the Mediterranean Sea, stayed still, allowing me to creep close with my camera lens. I snapped a dozen shots, each taken an inch closer than the last. And then Noah and I simply stood quiet, marveling at its bulbous eyes and the hairs bristling its legs, until, with a warning flutter of his wings, the dragonfly launched from the leaf in a blur of blue.
We emerged from the shade of the hollow blinking in the blazing sun, and then made our way back to the car, satisfied that the prairie had revealed its subtle beauty once again.
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Featured image by Duncan Harris, Creative Commons license via Flickr. Article photos and post by Michelle DeRusha.
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Jillie says
Hey Michelle! Your photos & descriptions are just plain wonderful! I felt like I was there with you & Noah. Maybe I should say I “wish” I’d been there with you & Noah! How lovely!
It’s funny that you should specifically mention Dragonflies. With my daughter now living in Prince Edward Island, she sends photo after photo of the wildlife there on that pristine island. I see the red fox, who appears everywhere there, the wild flowers that grow all along the roadsides, even the bug-life, which includes swarming mosquitoes every. where. So, jokingly, I emailed back that while her Dad & I work daily on siding our old house here in Sleepy Gulch, I too have seen some Ontario “wild-life” of my own! Like the toads living under tall Hostas at the side of the house. And slugs, bugs, snails and worms hiding under the old siding I’ve chucked in a pile. But the best was a Dragonfly who flew right into my face before winging away. I’ve never seen a single Dragonfly in my life! Yes, Ontario buzzes with our own brand of “wildlife!” 😉
I always love reading about your outdoor adventures with your boys. And I miss you, as there seems to be little time to “read you” these days. This was a treat!
Michelle DeRusha says
So, so good to hear from you, Jillie. I’m glad your daughter is finding some beautiful new sights to enjoy on Prince Edward Island…and it seems like her discoveries are helping you to open your eyes to your surroundings too. “Lucky” me, I have boys, so bugs, worms, and critters have been a part of my daily existence for a while now, but I still can’t tolerate the Nebraska grasshoppers after all these years here – so, so creepy! We see a lot of dragonflies here, especially out on the prairie, and when we go up to Northern Minnesota, there are a lot there too – bigger ones, and often a beautiful shade of cobalt blue.
Maureen Doallas says
Perfect place for a poetry trail. Lovely post, Michelle.
Michelle DeRusha says
Thanks, Maureen.
Joan Johnson says
Hi Michelle,
A beautifully written post of a beautiful place. Thanks so much for sharing your walk in nature.
Michelle DeRusha says
Thanks for accompanying me, Joan.
Laura Brown says
I love it that you’ve been there enough that Noah has a favorite spot.
I love also, that after you took pictures of the dragonfly (so we could see, too), you both simply stood and beheld it.
Matthew Kreider says
It never takes long to steep in a prairie. But never long enough. Lovely, Michelle.
Michelle DeRusha says
I could stay out there all day (my son wanted to leave before I did).
Martha Orlando says
A beautiful tour, indeed, Michelle! I’ve never been out west but your photos truly made me want to visit. Blessings!
Michelle DeRusha says
I have a guest room, Martha – you are always welcome! 🙂
Bethany Rohde says
I adore nature walks. This piece drew me in with its quiet beauty. Reading it was like sipping on chamomile tea. I felt my shoulders relaxing as my eyes settled onto those green hills. And what lovely descriptions- I could distinctly imagine the dragonfly launching “from the leaf in a blur of blue.”
Thanks for posting this, now I’m wishing to go for a stroll through the Bellevue Botanical Garden.
Michelle DeRusha says
We do go there often – at least once a season. I like to see how the places changes from season to season…and clearly the rain has had a big effect.
Michelle DeRusha says
Oops, sorry, Bethany — not sure why a previous comment repeated itself here. What I intended to say was that I love “like sipping chamomile tea” – what a lovely description! Glad you enjoyed the walk – hope you have a peaceful time at the botanical gardens.