This past summer, I travelled to Kansas and visited the prairies where my great grandparents homesteaded, and my grandmother and mother grew up. A favorite photo of my mother is when she was six years old holding a bouquet of flowers as she sat in the middle of a prairie. This essay touched me deeply. Thanks so much!
Chelsea, thank you so much for this walk on the prairie, so loved it.
And I very much agree when you say "The land, too, is a storyteller and story receiver. The prairie and its layered stories has shown up in our family, over and over". Just the land in my garden moves and changes, the hill is slowly moving my house with it. It's a constant changing story like the trees, the stream, me, everything all around.
Oh, I love this Chelsea! What a blessing, to be nurturing a storyteller in your family, Aspen, cotinuing a long line of story tellers and receivers. I loved your dive into praries--and I learned a few things I did not know--and how they can be a gateway to opening to love. THis paragrpah is magical: This, too—the touching down of our stories upon the wide story of the land, or, perhaps better stated: the wide story of the land folding us briefly into its long life—is an opportunity for, an opening into, love."
And the ending is beautiful: "For Aspen’s part, she pulled on a dried, golden blade of tall grass until the top few inches popped off in her hand and became a magic wand. Waving it, she took off running, the prairie grasses swaying above her head on either side of her path." Wow! Much love to you all.
This past summer, I travelled to Kansas and visited the prairies where my great grandparents homesteaded, and my grandmother and mother grew up. A favorite photo of my mother is when she was six years old holding a bouquet of flowers as she sat in the middle of a prairie. This essay touched me deeply. Thanks so much!
Chelsea, thank you so much for this walk on the prairie, so loved it.
And I very much agree when you say "The land, too, is a storyteller and story receiver. The prairie and its layered stories has shown up in our family, over and over". Just the land in my garden moves and changes, the hill is slowly moving my house with it. It's a constant changing story like the trees, the stream, me, everything all around.
I wish you a very happy and harmonious new year.
Oh, I love this Chelsea! What a blessing, to be nurturing a storyteller in your family, Aspen, cotinuing a long line of story tellers and receivers. I loved your dive into praries--and I learned a few things I did not know--and how they can be a gateway to opening to love. THis paragrpah is magical: This, too—the touching down of our stories upon the wide story of the land, or, perhaps better stated: the wide story of the land folding us briefly into its long life—is an opportunity for, an opening into, love."
And the ending is beautiful: "For Aspen’s part, she pulled on a dried, golden blade of tall grass until the top few inches popped off in her hand and became a magic wand. Waving it, she took off running, the prairie grasses swaying above her head on either side of her path." Wow! Much love to you all.