It has taken me a long time to appreciate the Kansas Prairie, and it is harder in these times of drought when the landscape is brown except for the weeds. But I have learned to find a different kind of beauty in the more delicate things that make the prairie home.
Weeds are one of the survivors, it seems. They flourish regardless of the weather. Only frost can send them underground, just long enough for them to gather strength to reappear with the first glimmer of spring. But that seems to be the case for all eco-systems, not just the prairie.
I do love seeing windmills in farmers’ fields. I’m not sure why, but they symbolize a time and place and there’s a beauty in that, too. Being able to understand a situation because of only one thing like that is quite wonderful.
I’m not sure the cows standing in the hot sun nearby were quite as thrilled with the scene as I was.
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