Taking It All With Me

The trip is winding down, and here at about a half-way point between the Black Hills and home in Iowa, it’s time to get some sleep.  Packing up this morning, rarely my favorite thing to do, I was consoling myself that even though I was leaving a beautiful place, I was going to take many things back with me. 

The buffalo herd moves across the grasses, mostly in a slow and loose conglomeration of shaggy creatures.  Babies test out their legs, and discover hopping and running to their great joy.  The mamas look as if they hope the babies will do several more laps to be naptime ready sooner rather than later.  The herd sentries grunt back and forth; passing along directional, pace, and herd behavior instructions.  Rolling in the dust, sturdy buffalo legs stretch in wallowing holes to take dust baths.  Tiny cow birds gather around the buffalo, partners in their environment.  The calves stretch out next to their mommas, soak in the sun, and wake recharged and hungry.  They try to add their own grunts, with baby voices that are much higher than the adults surrounding them.  I will take them with me.

Antelope, elegant creatures of patterned colors, perch high on hills and low in the gullies.  They tend to pretend that human viewers are simply not there, conspicuously ignoring the person within view.  Watching the antelope, quietly munching the grasses and moving along the hill lines, I love their patterned looks and the sounds of their quiet grass clipping.  I will take them with me.

Sylvan Lake, Legion Lake, Stockade Lake, and several other lake spots reflect the pines, snow, and rock formation.  The ducks and geese that make their homes in the waters take turns honking and quacking at each other, flapping around in a merry chase of territorial nesting crankiness.  The air is full of pine smell, clean and sweet.  The water, still frozen in some places, is cold with spring snow melt.  Little fish dart in and out of the cattails.  Tiny birds played as they move in and out of the reeds.  An osprey dipped and dove into the waters.  The trails around the ponds and lakes are each different.  The Sylvan Lake path leads past the waters framed in low rocks to a path sided by tall rock walls.  The pines and birch trees close to the rocks are still encased in thick snows.  Higher up, where the sun is hitting, the snow has melted to form icicles that glow in the sunshine like jewels.  I will take them with me.

Blue birds perch on the fences and bird houses.  Tiny spots of sky blue, they are like little sky streaks that dart around.  The females are toned in browns, like little paintings that reflect the good soils and stones around them, delicate in coloring and well disguised in their environment.  The meadow lark sings the most beautiful song, loudly and joyfully from tree branches, fence posts, and anywhere else they can find.  Yellow, with a swirl of black on their chest, these birds are as beautiful to see as they are to hear.  Magpies, white

and dark blue, dart about as if they are the supermodels and everyone else should pause to watch.  They are beautiful, and I do pause.  A strutting turkey, fluffed up and gliding over pine needle covered ground attempting, all in the attempt to impress a hen was a beautiful sight.  She was even chasing him for a few minutes, so apparently it was working.  The gobble gobble and cluck cluck of the turkey was fun to hear.  The pheasants, hawks, burrowing owls, and noisy crows were all there and all so wonderful to see.  I will take them with me.

I have met wonderful people.  A woman on an adventure who displays warmth and caring in her work, will have a collection of stories that is worthy of writing in a much shared book.  A local small store owner brings Bob the Manager to the store each day to “work” as a greeter.  Bob is a liver colored lab who likes belly rubs and to show off his big blue toy bone.  The Custer Chamber of Commerce awarded Bob as having friendliest customer service; all because his person brought him to work and let those who visit the store enjoy that personality.  Another woman has picked up the pieces of her life and found a passion for photography that has inspired her to make more than a so-so existence, but to enrich the lives of others around her.  I felt as if she was looking to share, as one who cares about an art wants to share it with another.   A gentleman is warmly greeting guests, even as he is a guest here.  I hope that he feels as welcome

in the Custer area as he made us feel.  A retired rancher, working at the Wild Horse Sanctuary, let me see the plains through his eyes.  Grasses, sustainability, the balance cycle of predator and prey, water conservation, and the joy of spring’s arrival from the presence of a burrowing owl were only the frosting on the cupcake.  His love of the horses and caring for them and their preservation was something that could be described more as a passion than a job.  People who have greeted, smiled, welcomed, and been kind – I will take them with me.

Snow falling so gently while enveloped in the heat of the steam and water of a hot tub, watching deer eat their dinner just beyond the pines from the same hot tub, and the sound of migratory ducks and geese as they fly over - they are all cabin memories.  Tucked near an outcropping of rock, the cabin was a quiet landing place at the end of a day.  With a gas stove fire started, the living room was toasty and the perfect place to end a day flipping through pictures.  A kind hearted woman owns the cabins and so wants to share her joy of the cabins with those who stay there.  I will take these with me.

These are just a few of the things I will take home with me.  I packed them all so gently in my luggage and have them with me even now.  They are many more, and those also I will take with me.

Dream, Reach, Share & Fuzzy Faces

Prairie Lonesome with her friendship group

The last couple days have been busy, trying to see what we can in the Black Hills area of South Dakota.  A cabin that is charming, but without internet access, is a nice break and it’s a great excuse to go to Legion Lake Lodge where they have Wi-Fi, the staff is welcoming, and the Kansas City chef is turning out awesome food.  So, over a lunch of a fabulous chicken noodle soup and a chicken salad sandwich, it’s a great time to post a little update.  

Tuesday was a day of dream sharing at the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary.  You can read the more detailed account of the Sanctuary at www.gwtc.net, but I want to provide a short version of what this place is and how it got started.  Twenty five years ago, a rancher was out looking for cattle when he saw wild horses gathered into feed lots.  These horses, built to run in wide pastures, were hemmed into very tight spots and were being maintained but no more.  These native horses are rare and protected by federal law.  But, what do you do with them?  Most towns can’t handle a herd of wild horses running down the street; instead they were gathered into feed lots to be maintained – a sight that broke this rancher’s heart.  He had a dream of seeing the horses run free; able to be wild and living healthy lives out in the open.  Dayton Hyde, the rancher, did not leave this at a dream.  Instead, he engaged in a fight with the government to be able to open a sanctuary for the horses.  It took three years of work to make this dream come alive, many battles with naysayers and doubters, and many months of fence building to hold the original herd.  After the first four miles of fence were up, the first herd of horses arrived.  Some new horses are still arriving today.  Now, the sanctuary is spread out over several thousand acres, and provides homes to mustangs, paints, quarter horses, a retired Marine horse, and a few of the extremely rare Choctaw horses.  Dayton Hyde had a dream, reached for it, and then shared with others.  Today, a staff works to maintain this place for the horses and to share the stories and the horses with visitors.

Painted Desert's blue eyes

On a tour with a "retired" rancher, Mark, to see the horses, the view of the ranch included wonderful views, turkey, meadow larks, a burrowing owl, and of course the beautiful horses.  Out enjoying their morning breakfast, tails and manes were blowing in the wind, a welcome relief to blow off the flies.  The buffalo grass is stubby and looks like it would be a thin meal.  Mark assured me that it actually contains a lot of nutrition for the animals eating off of the land.  Loving the horses and the land as he does, it was a great chance to see this special place through a rancher’s eyes.  Small white Easter lilies and bright yellow pea pod flowers are starting to bloom on the grasses, lending polka dot patches of color to the grass and sandy soil.  The horses roam in their pastures, beautiful and able to run as they would like within their sanctuary area.

It is such a beautiful spot, but even more of a landmark to me as this was a dream that was given life and took off, through hard work and hard times, good work and good times.  It is the belief of a dream that is reached for and shared with others, a very powerful thing.

Black Bear on the logs

The fuzzy faces of bears were a highlight yesterday.  Bear USA is home to dozens of beautiful black bears.  Round bellies, shiny coats, and stretching off the long winter’s sleep, the bears are roaming in their habitat.  One splashed in a pool, especially when another bear offered to get in.  Another found a spot that would be the perfect nap spot in the sun, tucked into the intersection of a few large logs and snoozing happily away.  I had to share just a quick photo because even though these are extremely powerful animals and quite wild, they look just adorable with their fuzzy faces.  Just like great big teddy bears....

Tank the Grizzly Bear

Caves and Buffalo – Detail in the Connection

Yesterday was spent touring Wind Cave, the world’s fifth largest explored cave system and home to a very fragile mineral formation called box work.  This particular cave is also home to the creation myth belonging to several Native American tribes.  The cave contains its own ventilation system, and is called Wind Cave appropriately because it is a windy cave.  The first natural entrance that is known to have been used was found because of the windy air moving through and out of the caverns.  Some tribes also believe that this cave was where life came from, both that of buffalo and of people.  The connectedness of the buffalo and the people demonstrates how interdependent the tribe and herd were. 

The ranger tour guide demonstrates the cave at the original entrance.

Boxwork at Wind Cave

Venturing down 300 steps, to wind up 20 stories below the ground in a multi-layered cave formation was a wonderful way to see a different part of the Black Hills.  Formations made by water and limestone have left patterns that reminded me of a coral reef.  Swirls, flakes, lines, fins, and paper thin waffles of mineral deposits are seen at different colors at different levels, they are visible in a carefully constructed lighted path constructed by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC).  Carefully explored, so as not to break or disturb the formations, the Wind Cave system is still being explored, miles and miles of caves to map below the surface of the Black Hills.

Riding an elevator back out of the cave, the doors open back to bright sunshine.  Above the ground, the prairie dogs continue to bark their warnings, the buffalo to wallow in the bright red mud, and the antelope to munch on the new green grass.  The connectedness of the plants, animals, and geology form an intricate succession of events that make the nature here work in its appropriate sequence, creating sustainability. 

The detail and connectedness of this all struck me in the last large room in the cave tour.  Large slabs of rock on the floor looked as if the architecturally chosen materials used in the construction of the Sphinx had been repurposed here.  Then, I started noticing the smaller details of the boxwork and other crystal like formations.  In the darkness of a cave, I thought of the creator of the cave, the prairie above, and everything in between; it was a great reminder of the details created on purpose and with purpose.  

In the Land of Buffalo

Yesterday, travels took me from Norfolk, Nebraska to Custer, South Dakota.  Passing through on Highway 20, small towns would pop up and then disappear again.  In the more thriving communities, little restaurants, crowded with locals thus denoting the presence of good food, appear in the downtowns.  Gas stations, a general store, an auto parts place, and granaries are the most common monuments to a population.  In between these places where between 30 and 3,000 gather and call home, the grasslands sweep.  The heart of Nebraska, not the land of the flat fields some might imagine, holds miles of cattle country.  Dotted with herds of cattle, horses, and a few trees, bluffs create complex patterns of light and dark – playing with shadows created by the spring sun. 

This is an austere land.  It is not the gentle slopes of the Appalachian foothills or the relaxing sounds of the river slapping against the shore.  The wind whips through the grasses, moving them like a sea of reeds.  Snow is making its last stand against the warmth of the earth and sun by melting so slowly into the soil.  Cattle gather around feeding troughs, and windmill powered water tubs.  New spring calves follow their mommas, close enough to run to the safety and comfort of her side, and yet far enough to do a little exploring of their new world.  Farmers and ranchers are out working on repairing fences, helping with the birthing of spring calves, and preparing fields for the new growing season. 

Rocky buttes start showing themselves, severe and beautiful testimonials to the strong bones of the land.  Pines adhere themselves to little soil, forming braided roots that cling to the anchoring materials.  Growing so slow and powerful over the rock itself to split and move the surface away for new growth.  Craggy bluffs and box canyons hold hiding spots for the antelope, and wayward cattle that simply don’t care to participate in the cattle drives.  Antelope, their white and brown coloring stands out to the eye as a color slightly out of place.  One, then two, eleven, fifteen – there they are out among the cattle.  Horse tails are caught in the wind and blown aside softly, creating beautiful images of how the wind moves.

This land was once filled with herds of buffalo.  They moved along the grass lands and created a dark contrast of color from the light prairie grasses and their coffee colored fur.  Decorated with the seeds of different flowers and painted with the red mud on their hooves and heads from scratching on the ground, I can imagine them sallying forth across the land, moving in groups of thousands.  It is the land that supports strong animals, ones that can survive and thrive in severe conditions.  I am in the land of buffalo. 

Mother’s Love and Spit

A week ago I was watching a small herd of bison (buffalo) in Illinois. Two young calves had been born only days before and were out walking with the herd. One of them, took an opportunity to give her new baby a bath.

Some may say that the universal language is math, but in the case of moms, I think it’s a mother’s love and spit. Yes – spit. Didn’t your mom ever stick her thumb in her mouth, and then proceed to clean your face? Here it is, translated to a giant and beautiful animal, stopping to clean her child.

Yes, we can make faces as mom wipes away something after sticking their thumb in their mouth, but remember – it’s just mom saying that they love you.

Happy Mother’s Day!

SHHHHH!!!!

I have never been someone who craves quiet. In fact, I really do not study well at libraries, the quiet just leads me to get distracted and then there are the books – way too much distraction! About 6 months ago, I attended my Great Banquet, Peoria Women’s Great Banquet #14. It was a wonderful experience and one that I continue to cherish and learn from.

One of the most profound things for me was that I finally learned to seek out and enjoy the quiet and solitude of moments, moments that are all too rare. It was in this experience of listening to God, learning to be quiet, that I found how much I enjoyed the time to slow down.
So, this weekend while my mother was at her Great Banquet, I was at a nearby state park. With no obligations, waiting chores, to do’s, or places to be, I found myself sitting on a tree bent over a pond and listening to the buffalo. I love how they sound, their snorting and grunts, their breathing and sighing. I must have sat at that spot for twenty minutes, taking a few occasional pictures, but mainly just listening and watching.

There is so much to do in this life, so many wonderful things to see. With so much to say, partake in, and get done, it can be very easy to put off the quiet times. Oh, I’ll get to that later and one thought pushing another out of my brain and poof – it’s gone.

I wonder how much I really miss of what God is trying to tell me just because of my inability to be quiet, to sometimes just slow down and be. I know I need sleep for energy, need food for fuel, need exercise for strength, but my time with God – that is my solace and energy, fuel, and strength! I will seek out other times in the future when I can just go and be quiet, listening to the same creator who made those beautiful buffalo.

Take Me Away

Today, my mom is at the Great Banquet. Take away the daily distractions, the background noise of TV, computers, cell phones and try to really listen to God. It’s easier sometimes when we take away that background noise.



I will not be attending the Great Banquet, but still am going to enjoy my own quiet time. There is a cabin like place at a state park, complete with buffalo and other animals, will be my place for quiet time.


I hope you all have a wonderful weekend – and I’ll be back in touch next week.

Take Me Back to the Black Hills

There is a little town in South Dakota, with one main street though town. A great little coffee shop slash steak place sits on one corner and a grocery store on the other. Up the road is a state park with buffalo herds, some beautiful lakes, and many antelope.

Sometimes my schedule gets busy, as it does with all of us, and I start wishing for a cabin out there in that park. With a good cup of coffee in the morning, a dollop of creamer, in a travel mug in one hand and my camera in the other. Waiting till the sun comes up, enjoying the sunshine, and the mist of the morning starts rising among the Needles Highway. Perched on a look out or a shelter bench, I want to just sit and sip my coffee, listening to the morning. Then, later in the day as the sun approaches the mid-point and the heat rises, I could head to Sylvan Lake and walk on the shore. Smelling pine, enjoying the feel of rock and moss as I climb over them to rejoin the trail, covered in pine needles. Buffalo appear from the groves of tree and move through in herds. Slowly, they appear to plod along and move with an ungainly gate, until they run. Then, their bulk is revealed to be powerful strength. Sometimes I want to watch, observe, sit in the quiet and soak in the stillness of removing the extra distractions around me.

In the quiet, when I can be still long enough to give all the cogs in my head to slow down, that is when I find myself feeling that I can really hear from God. It’s not that God isn’t speaking or isn’t present the other times, it’s just that my distractions make it hard to hear. It’s kind of like trying to carry on a very quiet conversation at a rock concert – it just doesn’t work. So, when my life gets busy or when it starts feeling like I need to get away, I dream of the park outside of that town in South Dakota.