I have been singing "Home on the Range" to myself since Saturday morning. DC and I got up really early on the holiday and headed east, unlike the rest of the celebrants, who headed west to the mountains, or to the parks in our town. We went to the Pawnee Buttes National Grassland - a place where the wind blows constantly. I would not want to live there, and you won't catch me there in the wintertime, but our visit was very enjoyable, and we felt like we had a mini vacation when we got back home. You can see the grass blowing in these shots. The grass is incredibly green this year because of all the craziness we've had this spring and early summer - normally, it would be brown by this time of the summer, according to DC, who goes out there to do recreational target shooting once in awhile.
Another evidence of the abundance of wind - many wind mills . . .
I'd love to know the story on this one!
One thing that was definitely not there when the pioneers crossed this land - a very large wind farm.
I took a bit of video, but can't get it to load - they are creating electricity, are very quiet, and are using a free resource. Pretty green, eh??
The rock formations are so fascinating, with the wind farm in the background.
Another evidence of the constant wind - -
I felt like I had landed in a Willa Cather novel - and made me want to read them again. The meadowlarks were there in profusion, and their song was a treat - one of those Willa Cather books is Song of the Lark. I could just picture the wagon trains lumbering across this land on their way to the promised land. I can only imagine, and have read much about, the struggles as they had to abandon so much of what they packed on their wagons as they left with such high anticipation from their homes in the east or midwest. I wonder what they thought when they got their first view of the mountains in the distance.
We took a trail for about a half mile and found ourselves looking into this beautiful valley, with the buttes in the distance. But first we were warned about the birds that were nesting in the buttes - we were at the right time of the year to be able to visit beyond the point of this sign.
I think this is an example of the term "gully washer."
I can just picture the chief on his beautiful horse, with his feathers blowing in the breeze, checking out the valley from this rock.
The shadows began to make the valley look even more intriguing.
One more thing you wouldn't see in the pioneer days, but which I was very glad to find!
Coming Soon: Life and Death on the Prairie
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