There's lots of drought going on right now. Look at the map. Douglas county is lucky to be missing out on that, but I still think this spring is a little dry compared to last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. It'll probably get worse as the summer progresses, hopefully not. It seems like the great plains will turn into a big desert in the next few hundred years, at least that's my prediction. I'm not happy about it.
Still, May and June are the rainiest months, and it rains, and it rained. There's a special magic in the air right after it rains, while everything is rejuvenating. It was in this magical environment I departed for the Israel Chemicals LTD facility.
Yep, I went to a chemical plant, because there's a super cool prairie restoration on it's campus. I only discovered the place this winter, but it's become one of my favorites. Upon approaching I realized it had been burned since the last time I came, but was coming back with vigor. I've known since before I lived around them that fires are important to prairies, but I think this was my first time really seeing that in action.
Everything was fresh. Last year's grasses had given their carbon rich bodies to nurture new ones. The fecund husks shone through in places. Mounds made from dead saplings, and edges next to the trail. They laid over, laid into, then became, the dark soil.
| Those lighter green, large leaved plants in the foreground are baby milkweeds |
Up from the new grass rose some sturdy brown stalks, islands for birds to perch. There were swallows out that day, of both tree and barn varieties. (And I didn't get a picture of any of them :( because of course I didn't) Swallows are true athletes. Their careening and racing through the air would be enough of an event, but they top it off with brilliant colors. The barn swallow, perhaps the most iconic swallow, is the color of a waning crescent night, with a clay-red breast. The back of the tree swallow iridesces like labradorite, and it's white underparts shine like W.B. Mason's printer paper. Both share the sleek, aerodynamic swallow shape.
There were two birds I did not recognize, and honestly couldn't even muster a good guess as to what they were. They were shy and didn't let me get very close. One might maybe have been a meadowlark, but it could be something else just as well. I would have figured it out if I'd had a closer look. I'll just have to buy a new pair of binoculars soon, because I've given up on finding my old ones.
The easternmost part of the prairie hadn't been burnt, possibly because they wanted to keep those trees there. I'm not sure why they would want to keep the trees though, maybe there's some plan for that area.
This place gave me some hope, which I've needed lately. A lovely, rich ecosystem made by volunteers. And it's existing in harmony with a chemical plant. This is proof we can change the world. That's corny, but the whole blog is corny. This type of work; habitat restoration, creation, and preservation is what we need the most.
I've given up on global warming. I think most people have. Anything to help will be too little, too late. The ecological problems we as a society should be focusing on are how to deal with are preserving habitats, reducing harmful waste, & stuff like that.
When I went back home I took the levee route instead of the road. I found a unique plant on my way there. The elusive ditch weed. My guess is that it escaped from an adjacent house. I didn't take any home.
This blog took a while to write, hence the now-outdated drought report. Ever since I started working again I've felt like I have less creativity, or that my explosions of it are less frequent. I'm not even working very much at all, just 19 hours per week. I'm hoping this is just something about getting used to working again. It's only been about one month.
