The Tallgrass Prairie Preserve

THIS is what I was looking for.  This is why I came.  Big.  Open.  Expansive.  Rarely does reality live up to expectation; and even rarer are the moments when reality exceeds expectation.  This was one of those.   I stopped at a scenic turn-off, I sat on the bike and listened.  And looked.  And felt.  And smiled.  This was the scene I wanted to see.  This is where I wanted to be.

The prairie sloped away ahead of me, behind me, and in every other direction.  There was no visible end to it and that was what I wanted to see – or not to see.  I can’t think of any place I’ve been in the Midwest where there isn’t always at least a silo, a house and a cornfield at every cardinal point.  Here there is prairie.  It feels open, but not empty.  There’s too much life.  Birds, flowers, bison and even a few trees.  There’s never nothing.  And that was just what I could see from my big picture point of view.

 The Rocky Mountains are big and grand and magnificent.  You can’t not be awed.  But you can enjoy them from your car with the windows rolled up and the air conditioning on.  The prairie truly reveals itself only to those who take the time to immerse themselves in it.  You have to get out of the car, off the road, and pause.  You have to relax.  You can try to look for it, but I think you have to let it in.  It’s there, waiting to be discovered.  The closer you look the more you see.  It would take lifetimes to appreciate the intricacies contained in an acre of a prairie hillside.  Vertically, horizontally, and across time. 

There’s an illusion in the prairie.  You look out over the distance and think it’s the same, but it’s never the same.  I’m thankful that I’ve had people take the time to help me see it.