So my walk in the field today was noisy. The sounds of thousands of grasshoppers fleeing from my presence were accompanied by the crunch of my steps on the dried rust weed. Despite the heat and drought, however, the native grasses continue to progress. In parts of the field they are sparse and small, hidden under the canopy of the Mare's Tail that took an opportunity to flourish this summer. In other places they are plentiful, but small and dry. But in the twenty or so acres nearest the house, they are growing in good numbers and size. Many are forming their seed heads––Little Bluestem, Indian Grass, Lovegrass, Sideoats Grama, and Switchgrass are discernible. Most of the clumps are mysteries to me until they identify themselves with their distinctive seed heads. The yellow Partridge Pea bushes are plentiful. I found one Texas Coneflower blooming in the middle of one of the bunch grasses.
We've now been a month without a drop of rain and temperatures have been over 100 most days. In a few more weeks that will break and become more seasonal. I suspect the grasses will respond to the fall rains with joy.
Psalm 147:8 (NRSV)
He covers the heavens with clouds,
prepares rain for the earth,
makes grass grow on the hills.
1 comment:
This is a perfect chapter for your book. Waiting for the rain.
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