A Sunday Walk in Thomson Prairie

Fluff Ball

Prairie Fluff © 2013 Bo Mackison

…the joy of prairie lies in its subtlety.  It is so easy—too easy—to be swept away by mountain and ocean vistas.  A prairie, on the other hand, requests the favor of your closer attention.  It does not divulge itself to mere passersby.
~ Suzanne Winckler, Prairie: A North American Guide (2004)

For this week’s hike, I walked the Thomson Prairie. One does not “hike” in a prairie, especially if it is a wild prairie –  no paths, no guided signs describing the view or the habitat or the inhabitants. This is how a prairie should be, it appears from afar to be a landscape of emptiness, but instead it is a land of thick, twisting plants, stretching tall.

Wading through these tangles of thick grasses and flowers in this mostly native prairie is pure delight, but it is not a casual stroll by any means. More a picking your way through a maze of vertical growth, choosing the way that appears to have an opening, though truly, in a wild prairie, there are no openings. Every space filled with that which grows tall, reaching towards the sun.

Thompson Prairie

Prairie in June © 2013 Bo Mackison

The land is not the setting for the work but a part of the work. ~ Walter de Maria

This is prairie in mid-June. In another month or so, the view won’t be of the far away farms and the gently rolling landscape of the non-glaciated western half of Wisconsin. It will be of grasses that stand taller than most humans, flowers that bloom high over our heads.

I’ve never walked through a wilderness prairie fully grown, one untamed by the hands of humans, but I am looking forward to the experience in another month.

Thompson Prairie Prairie in June

How High is the Prairie Grass in June? © 2013 Bo Mackison

It seems to be a constant contradiction of itself.  It is delicate, yet resilient; it appears to be simple, but closer inspection indicates that it is extremely complex; it may appear monotonous, but it is diverse and ever-changing throughout the seasons. ~ James Stubbendieck

Thompson Prairie

Daisies in the Prairie © 2013 Bo Mackison

Without a complex knowledge of one’s place, and without the faithfulness to one’s place on which such knowledge depends, it is inevitable that the place will be used carelessly and eventually destroyed.
~ Wendell Berry

Thompson Prairie

Weighed Down Thistle © 2013 Bo Mackison

That was my country—Terrible winds and a wonderful emptiness. ~ Georgia O’Keefe

Thompson Prairie

High Winds and Yellow Hawkweed © 2013 Bo Mackison

On the prairie, what you are left with is the bare truth, the land pared down to the bone, the basic dirt and grass and sky that shape the lives that play out upon it. ~ Tom Groneberg

A prairie walk is a fine way to explore the earth. Grasses shine like flickering lights, waxing and waning as the sun slides in and out of the scattered clouds.

With so little prairie remaining — Wisconsin’s original 10 million acres has been whittled to  a mere 12,000 acres by farming and other land uses — it is a rare enough experience. Pure prairie pleasure!

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  Bo is creating a deck  of Wisdom Cards. The first set, the Desert Wisdom Cards, feature a Sonoran Desert theme. Now she is getting re-acquainted with the prairie and grasslands in preparation for the next featured habitat.

Wabi Sabi Peony

Wabi-sabi Peony

Wabi-sabi Peony © 2013 Bo Mackison

Wabi sabi acknowledges three things: “nothing is perfect, nothing lasts, and nothing is finished.”
~ Richard C. Powell

Peonies – as amazing going to seed as they are in their prime. I love this flower’s slightly withered pink petals, the shriveling yellow stamens, the green seed bearing carpels with their touch of lingering pink, and the few specks of pollen clinging to a lower petal.

Cycle of life. The flower does not last, but it is not at all finished. Wabi sabi.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is fascinated by the different stages of the garden flowers and the inherent beauty that lingers in a flower long after it has fully blossomed.

The Filling Tree

Old Oak

Ancient Oak © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.” ~ Pablo Picasso

This tree, an ancient oak, stands a few yards from the mown path through meadow and a prairie restoration. Solid, deeply connected in the earth, a tribute to time.

Whenever I pass this tree, I stop. Compelled to stop. I seem unable to walk past the tree without pausing, walking through the brambles and sticks of growing sumac, until I stand next to this giant. Rest my hand on its bark. That’s all. Just rest my hand upon it, and connect its pulse with my pulse. Sap beat. Heart beat.

I think. I wait. I breathe. I peer into he upper most branches. I feel my feet grounded on the earth, as the tree is grounded the earth. I run my finger through along the ridges and the valleys of the wood. I see pictures in its wavy trunk lines. I listen the woodpecker’s drumming. I stand in the shadow of the tree, and notice the breeze that swirls around the both of us. The experience fills me.

And then I continue on my walk.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She explores wherever she goes, with and without her camera.

A Tree, a Nest, a Dream

Tree of Life ©2013 Bo Mackison

Animal Kingdom’s Tree of Life © 2013 Bo Mackison

“Without leaps of imagination or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all is a form of planning.”   ~ Gloria Steinem

It was only a few weeks ago that I spent time at Disney World with my two daughters. While there, I visited Animal Kingdom for the first time, and I saw the centerpiece of the park, a re-creation of a huge Baobab tree. The tree has over 350 animal had sculpted in its concrete bark. The leaves were individually crafted in five colors, all 103,000 of them. It was quite the tree, even if it was born of a man’s creative vision.

We didn’t spend time near the tree, and though I admired it from afar, it wasn’t until I returned to Wisconsin that my interest in this unusual Baobab heightened. I researched the history of the tree, and discovered that this particular tree is called the “Tree of Life”.

I was curious, because this tree, or actually a variation of it, appeared in a recent dream. It was one of those infrequent dreams for which I had complete recall (or so I believe) and I wrote it in detail in my journal. Now I find myself frequently replaying the dream sequence in my mind. I think it’s an interesting dream, and important, too.

And so I’m sharing…

Tree of Life - with Animal Carvings

Tree of Life – with Animal Carvings © 2013 Bo Mackison

This is my dream: I am in a nest at the top of a tree similar to the Tree of Life, so high that my nest — large and very comfy, and woven out of a soft, gauzy material resembling bubble wrap — seems to barely touch the leaves. At first I am able to lean over the nest — it is about waist-high — and see the carved animals on the tree. The animals are alive and friendly, and communicate through facial movements and eye contact. I most remember speaking to a hawk that is very near the nest.

It is a sunny day. I can see an infinite ocean from one side of the nest; the other side overlooks a deep forest, far below, just the tree tops are visible. I am alone, except for one visitor — a very large, very dark raven that has intense, emerald-green eyes.

The raven keeps coming to the nest. He circles the nest, darting about, then pecks at my head while I try to protect myself with my arms. Finally he snatches a single hair from my head and flies away. He does this repeatedly. I am fearful when the raven pecks at me and pulls my hair, but after he disappears from sight, I feel very alone and wonder if he will return.

This happens a dozen times or so. All the while, the skies gradually darken as evening approaches. Then I notice several things. The nest shape shifts and it is now very deep. I can no longer see over the sides nor communicate with the animals on the tree. I can’t see the ocean or the forest. I can only see the darkening sky. A few stars appear, and then the night sky flickers above me. I am in complete darkness except for the far away stars.

Tree of Life - with Animal Carvings

Animal Carvings © 2013 Bo Mackison

Then the raven returns. This time, he flies towards the nest from high above me, soaring in circles, drawing closer and closer. He carries a light. When he is very near, I notice his claws have turned into the hands of a human. In his hands he carries a crystal globe about the size of a large softball. The raven hovers over my nest and gently places the crystal ball into my open hands. Then he soars away.

I hold the globe – it is perfectly spherical and glowing brightly. When I look into the globe, I see a sun as it brightly illuminates the nest, my surroundings, and me.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC.  She explores wherever she travels. And occasionally her travel experiences follow her home and appear in her dreams. She still marvels at the idea of holding a crystal ball filled with sunlight.

Garden Peony in Amana

Vintage Peony

Vintage Peony © 2013 Bo Mackison

“The best art of beauty is that which no picture can express. That said, the mere act of looking at your surroundings with intention and perhaps the anticipation of finding a suitable subject, makes you more aware of the diversity of nature. ~ Sir Francis Bacon

Sherpa and I traveled this weekend, a quick trip to visit family. On our way home, we stopped at the Amana Colonies near Iowa City, Iowa. The Colonies were settled by Pietists in the 1850s, immigrants from Germany who came to America to practice their religious faith in a communal setting. The settlers received all that they required — home, medical care, meals, a job, and schooling for children. Everything was shared.  Farming and the production of fabrics, both wool and calico, supported the community, but everything from furniture making to brewing, were an important part of the community. Well-crafted products became a trademark of the Amanas.

During the farm economic crisis in the 1930s and the followers’ desire to live a more independent life, the Colonies adapted to changing times and the communal way of life transitioned into a profit-sharing entity, The Amana Society.  Private enterprise was encouraged and the Amanas were able to thrive.The seven towns which comprise the colonies were declared a National Historic Landmark in 1965. Today the Amana Colonies attract nearly a million visitors who come to experience a place where the past is cherished and where hospitality is a way of life.

We found it a joy to walk the streets and browse the shops and art galleries after being car-bound for many hours. Sherpa even found a brewery and sampled one of their fine ales, while I  had a taste of their ginger ale. But I most enjoyed the intricate flower gardens in full bloom. Te Iowa River, which runs near the town was at flood stage, and so we had to take a few detours to get on the roads heading north and to Wisconsin, but we saw some amazing countryside on the back roads.

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Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She explores, with and without her camera, wherever she travels. There is always something new and interesting to see or do.