This is the seminal line from a soliloquy from Arthur Miller’s play , “Death of a Salesman”. spoken by the salesman’s wife at his wake, emphasizing the importance, and even the nobility, of average, flawed, struggling people. This is a subject that is near and dear to my heart, but it would seem to have little to do with work on the restoration. Be patient; the relevance will become clearer later, but first a little summary of what has been going on the past few weeks.

Presently I am in the process of spreading seed on the two 20 acre areas that were burned last fall and this spring by my partner in management here, Ben Lardy. Below is a peek at how the fire went.

Pretty sedate looking burn, isn’t it? As you can see toward the top of the picture there was still some snow at the fenceline, and Ben had been here earlier with a friend to do some back burns in a few helpful areas. This was as safe and calm as a fire can be. I wandered around and took a few pictures, as Ben and his helper had it well in hand. However, as you will see below, it did the job.

This is on a pretty droughty soil, as indicated by the little stones everywhere, but it is likely more competitive below the surface with roots fighting for every drop of water available. Still, it is pretty obvious that most seed will hit soil, and will not get caught in the burned residue, with no chance of establishment. While there is more seed to spread yet, the majority has gone out in good shape and is just awaiting good fortune. Much of the bounty of seed we gathered last year went into what we spread here. Most of it was mixed up in small tubs, perhaps 5 or 6 batches of 8-10 gallons as shown below.

Some species are either too site-specific to put in a tub or too difficult to separate to blend, so those had to be seeded individually. Thus, species such as white penstemon (Penstemon albidus), standing milkvetch (Astragalus adsurgens) and textile onion (Allium textile) were only spread on the most xeric sites on south and west facing slopes of gravel hills, and downy gentian (Gentiana puberulenta) was only spread on north and east facing foot slopes. There are more of those individual seedings yet to go, but about 20 xeric tolerant wildflowers were mixed with some little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) to be generally spread over the hills. There are perhaps 15-20 more dry mesic to mesic adapted species to blend and spread over the saddles and swales next week when I get the chance. Finally, I am about 70% of the way through spreading the substantial amount of needle and thread we were able to gather last year, a laborious job because they wad up into an interconnected ball, their evolutionary strategy being to catch in the coat of whatever animal comes by and then, when they drop, to use their twisty awn to help screw themselves into the ground. You can see what I mean below, including the animal.

In the end some went out before a few days of showers, and may yet get enough stratification to germinate this year; some didn’t, and will have to wait for next year to germinate, and some is yet to come out of their bags and containers to be spread. Optimistically, we can hope to see many new plants in the Huggett prairie, as well as the 20 acre restoration that was burned last fall and seeded last winter. The goals of this restoration, in addition to the usual litany of ecosystem services, include providing enhanced populations of the locally adapted genetics of as many of my native wildflowers as possible to create a living seed bank. We are doing our best.

And now, back to the title, which seems to have nothing to do with the text so far. “Attention must be paid!” The phrase is usually thought of in relation to the need to remember and honor our elders, people like me. It is often said that this is a culture that doesn’t respect age and instead honors youth, and I suppose there is something to that. My experience, however, is that young people are very ready to respect, honor and learn from their elders. Perhaps their elders just need to give them the opportunity. My lament has usually been twofold: first, that I lack the energy and time to fully transmit the experiences I have learned and the knowledge I have painfully gained; and second, that young people will only be able to learn those lessons by their own hard experience, the same way that I did. Is there any way to make straight the path for others and effectively communicate the lessons that I have learned?

Yes, attention must be paid, but I turn the responsibility back on folks my age. We need to pay attention to those a generation or two behind us, and not just our own children. I suggest that we elders aren’t always willing to put the time and resources into the delicate and critical job of helping the young learn. I think there may be more young people ready to listen than there are old people crafting ways to communicate in a manner that allows true learning. No one is going to learn much from just reading this blog, or from stories I might tell that I imagine will illuminate an issue. Yes, the young need to learn from their own experiences; I deeply believe that. More importantly, what I can do is to provide a canvas, in this case 200 acres of prairie restorations, a place and materials that they might not otherwise be able to access, so that they can learn on their own with fewer barriers and less risk. When that is added to the blog posts and the stories we might have something. That can be for Ben and for others who help me here; it can be for the young professionals we have invited to be on our advisory board; it can be for the students in the SDSU Native Plant Initiative Lab who might do research here and come immerse themselves in the restored prairies. And, of course, it can be for my daughters as well, and their children. Attention must be paid by people like me to young people to try to fill a few valleys and take the tops off a few hills so that their path includes the best opportunities to learn their own lessons. Such efforts won’t be wasted, whatever the results. It is a glorious path to follow, and a selfish task, as it is so rewarding for me to know, interact with and befriend them. If I’m lucky, they might even learn a few things while I have my fun. As I have written before, the glass is neither half empty nor half full; it is under the pitcher filling.