Ecological Peace Prize

Who makes peace with nature?

What would it mean?

Is the deerslayer a murderer or a pacifist?

When someone else has killed every

wolf and bear and lion …

when as the poet says,

the mountain is afraid of its deer …

does the deerslayer deserve her prize?

What trees do they cut?

New forests mown down to their nubs …

does she deserve her prize as well?

Sprayers of poison, pullers of defenseless weeds,

strikers of the match that kindles the fires

that blacken all they catch … are they noble?

For tallgrass nature

with one one-hundredth of one percent left on planet Earth,

is it not time to sign the treaty?

Who makes peace with nature?

Whatever will it mean?

Fall In The Tallgrass

Now comes the most engaging season in the tallgrass wilderness.
It's a time of flowers, seeds - and falling back in grass and looking at the sky.
Then we brandish saws to slay the brush and transform it into bonfires
that sometimes cook our food.
It's a rich, easy, splendid time to be in nature.

Few bugs, little heat and humidity, deep colors, the threat of impending winter.
Hurry! Come out and join us!
We love fall for all these reasons. And there are better reasons too. 

Some of our most beautiful flowers bloom in early fall.
We're enriched by them. But we are drawn to seeds. We need plant embryos 
to restore health to more nature.

Plums and grapes once attracted the eyes of foxes, bears, and people. They still attract our eyes. 
Not enough animals these days move plum pits where they're needed. 
So we do. And plums multiply. 

Sometimes kids join in. They are natural in nature. This photo, as I remember, 
shows prairie pioneers whose recent backgrounds are in Asia, Africa, and South America. 
It makes no difference. Nature beckons every kid - as well as the kid in all of us. 

A handful of woodland puccoon seeds means "instant rare plant - restored" to an area that needs it. Our lives deserve more that makes us feel this good.  

A prairie dock leaf frames stems of Indian grass, smooth blue aster,
and purple prairie clover bearing seeds. We take in all - as we reach for the seeds. 

As we harvest, we connect with pasts - from hunter-gatherers to pioneer farmers.
We feel by turns empowered, meditative, companionable, and alone in deep nature. 

Then comes seed prep. To ready these treasures for planting, with care and anticipation.
The seeds delight our eyes and fingers; they're time capsules for next year's life. 

The onset of brush bashing is also a time of celebration. Buckthorn is an enemy easily understood - and readily defeated by mighty stewards.

The threat is obvious here. Bright fall colors mark the oaks, elms, and hickories. Buckthorn stays green and usurps the entire understory so little else can grow. A bully, it must go. 

We celebrate work with food. Life is good. In many senses. 

All of us prepare for winter in our own ways. 

This garter snake will now go underground to an "hibernaculum" with others of its kind.

This hazelnut bush turns colors as it prepares for winter by sending most of the energy and nutrients of its leaves down into its roots, to wait for spring. It also inspires to protect it from the deer, and from fire, until ready to stand on its own. We stewards have work to do. 

Modern seeds prepare for winter by inspiring us to transport them
to future habitats. Then they'll lie in wet ground going through age-old changes,
waiting for the light and warmth of a new year.  

In fall, much rots. Decomposition and renewal sweep away the past, 
providing opportunities for the future. 

In late November and early December come the fires.
They are another form of decomposition and renewal. We need and rejoice in them too. 

From September through December, we rejoice in our prairies and woodlands. The Somme team's fall schedule is at www.sommepreserve.org. Or find a group near you in your local park or preserve.

Photo credits 

Well, gosh, I don't even know who took them all. The splendid fringed gentian was almost certainly taken by the great Lisa Culp Musgrave. Most of the others are probably mine, although I notice that I'm in at least one, so I didn't take that. If you see a photo of yours here, please tell me so I can give you credit.

Most of these photos are from Somme. The grass-sprawled boys as well as the line of seeders are from the Orland Grassland. The fat garter snake is from Deer Grove East.