Big skies, great plains. Deceiving to the naked eye, sheltered by an endless soft blue breezy sky and camouflaged as one giant flat tundra. Some would call this place a rugged, barren wasteland, unfit for habitation.
But I know better.
This place is a vast expanse of exquisite natural beauty, teeming with wildlife. The lone birds cry, the coyotes yelp, my breath on the morning mist. Heavy sage, scented landscapes, flaring nostrils. Sparse tufts of long grass amidst rock and cactus feed both predator and prey. Clusters of spindly trees and brush, tucked into narrow draws, clashing and twisting upwards, hoping to reach up to feel the suns rays one day, shelter the furred and feathered alike.
Wide open steel blue emptiness to the horizon, the occasional tumble weed rolling across country screams of determination and perseverance. The epitome of benevolence. Unwavering guts and grace. Where the circle of life spins fair odds for the hunter and the hunted. Be it the hare, snake, hawk, coyote, or man.
Where the great mother earth challenges all to face the elements fearlessly, constantly; recording her daily losses, carrying the burden of proof that life can exist here.
Under a canopy of white billowing clouds, this place is a safe haven for all creatures that dare roam its hills and valleys; while posing as a certain death barrier for those less able to.
And I, marveling at the good fortune of being here in this lonely callous prairie, boldly stand on point, always posturing for what might happen next. Stealth, sturdy focus on feeding my passion and my belly. Rain falling hard like tears of countless other creatures that canvassed this terrain before me. Sand heavy wind, whipping tiny stings like needles, pelting me to resolve. Ever prepared to be swallowed up into its mass body of dirt and rock, this wild place of challenge, of bitter odds and high stakes, I stalk the land with keen senses, and strong confidence. Present me with opportunity, fair and square. On wild terms.
Drop me into these Great Plains to wander down the draws, up the hills, through the grasses and across the creeks. Drop me onto the prairie to roam with the cattle, follow hoofed trails and turned rocks, and at the end of the day cradle me in a golden cast valley of soft blowing grasses to rest. Keep me from the modern worlds crazy noise. Protect me, provoke me, discard me. With wind in my face, sun on my back, and senses pumping strong I hunger to be connected to the soft whisper of the Great Plains. I long for the escape to solitude, satisfaction, and resolution. I yearn for the haunting call of the wild, the chase, capture and celebration of success. Find me. Feed me. Fold me into the bareness of the land and the richness of the soil. I too, am of this earth.
Call to me, carry me, keep me home on the range.
Patty, you’re describing me. To a point anyway. I ran from modern civilization back to the country. I love my life here. People think I’m crazy. I describe it as just me and the birds all day long. But then, I do post pics of the many deer that happen onto our property, not to mention my turkey buddies that come to say hi. Oh, and let’s not forget to mention the coyotes, pheasants, snakes, frogs and more. Even a beaver rambled through about a week ago. 🙂 I love the great outdoors especially the quiet stillness mother earth has to offer. 🙂