Prairie Grass and Ocean Waves

In January 1996, we moved from our home on the Mississippi gulf coast to the frigid high plains of Montana. As we pulled into our new home all I could think of was how cold I was. I was born and raised in Florida where walking on the beach was a year-round event. My husband growing up in Illinois knew what cold was and having been all over the world with the Navy knew what to do. He told me to wear layers, and I had not a clue what he meant. A layer in Florida is a velvety chocolate cake, or a t-shirt over your bathing suit, but in Montana it is life or death.

I learned to layer, but still was freezing most of the time. Winter eventually turned into spring. Spring in Mississippi is in March and that is what my internal clock was expecting. March came and went as a blizzard blew in. May came along and it snowed again. I was worried we had moved to Narnia where the white witch ruled with an iron fist. But June first rolled in, and something changed in the atmosphere. The direction of the wind changed, and the aroma on the air was different. The wind always blows on the high plains, but each season has a different quality, and spring though still cold had a promise to it of something new.

The green of the prairie slowly woke as the promising wind blew through the valley our 40 acres sat in. The ground thawed and turned into deep brown mud that stuck to everything in heavy clumps. Overnight it seemed the world changed as the wind blew, as snow drifts turned grey and slushy, and ice melted from roof tops and roadways. Spring rains blew in continuing the winter melting process and awakening the earth.

The prairie came alive and Meadow Larks and Red Winged Black Birds sang in the growing grasses. The green of the prairie was like manna to the eyes after months of frozen white world. The breezes flowing over the prairie brought promises, new life, and rejuvenation to the sleeping winter world. For a few weeks, the prairie was a lush green growing fast to over the knee height and waving in the winds like waves rolling on the seashore.

As fast as the green started it stopped and a warm wind blew turning the grasses a tan color like wheat. The drying started from the top of the grass and slowing moved down to the ground. As the grasses dried the muddy ground dried getting harder and harder. The rolling grass waves were now a tan that baked in the sun giving the earth a rich earthy aroma with a hint of baking bread. The grasses swayed in the wind like waves crashing on the beach. The sun baked the ground hard as concrete, and the grasses rustled in the light. Every color of brown and tan showed through the hills around our home.

Sitting in the shade watching the grasses ebb and flow reminded this Florida girl of the ocean and its multiple shades of blue, the stormy gray during a storm, the crashing white caps coming to shore, the hot sun baking the sand and the warm scents of the ocean so different from the prairie grasses but so much alike. I was reminded the ocean is not the only place such peace can be obtained. The peace we find is within us whether it's on a beach with the crashing of waves or the prairie with the rustle of grasses as the only sound you hear.