As happens often in my writings, I will begin with some observations of a bountiful summer, and then down the rabbit hole of my more philosophical musings. First, a little look around.

This is a view of the south side of fairly steep gravel hill. You can barely call what’s under these plants soil. Last year at this time this landscape was mostly brown, the plants hiding after a hot and dry couple months. Not today. The majority of the flowers are whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata), which barely came above ground last year and made no blooms. Now, close to 1000 square feet are awash with milkweed blooms. After good fall rains and about 5″ every month since May, it’s a rich and varied environment. Right now there are four species blooming here, but that follows the 15-20 others that came before. Here’s another example:

These are wild onions (Allium stelatum) towards the base of a nearby hill. Last year I may have picked one or two onion seedheads near here, but this year there are perhaps 2-3000 circling this 1 acre hill. The same has been true of prairie turnips (Pediomelum esculentum), alumroot (Heuchera richardsonii), Pennsylvanis cinquefoil (Potentilla pennsylvanica) yellow flax (Linum sulcatum), two different penstemons (Penstemon albidus and P. gracilis) and many others. Many species of wildflowers became giddy with the glory of spring, and love was in the air (literally, with pollen blowing). Thus, it has been, and will continue to be, an epic year for seed gathering. Here’s one last picture of the native pasture where the first two pictures were taken:

There’s a lot going on in there, and many comments could be made about this. This is a slightly better site than the first two, but would still be considered a very xeric soil. You would not plant corn in this soil and expect to harvest ears. Yet it is a lush oasis in a year with rain, which goes to show the possibilities in an established prairie. Many species are elbowing each other for space, waiting for an opportunity., hiding in the shadows. Then a year like this comes along and all hell breaks loose. Over the past five years I thought I had identified where every standing milkvetch (Astragalus adsurgens) resided in my native prairies, perhaps 40-50 plants in total. This year I saw at least that many more, as they felt safe to bloom and set some seed. The rainy year has allowed me to learn a great deal about my prairies.

One of the big question I have is simply: what all is really going on there if you add in birds, small mammals, insects, fungi and all the other life that resides here? Areas in the restoration on similar sites don’t really look like this, but like a pretty Potemkin village thrown together to fool the naive. While I am very pleased with the progress of the restorations, this thought has nagged at me for years. What has Dr. Frankenstein really created here? It’s alive, and it’s some sort of bastardized prairie environment, but is it just a pretty Boris Karloff? What have I really got here? Then, serendipitously, I read a blog post from Chris Helzer, a Nature Conservancy ecologist along the Platte River in Nebraska, where he answers what must be a common question to him. To paraphrase:: “Why do this? A restoration is not a true prairie. It doesn’t have the right plants in all the right places. It doesn’t have all the biotic relationships. It may have only half as much organic matter as the unplowed prairie. Is it worth it?” Chris’ aggressive reply, which I echo is, “Of course it’s worth it! We have taken marginal cropground and are producing a huge bucket of ecosystem services!” But it’s more than that. It is protecting, buffering and enlarging the prairie remnants around which it is placed. Eventually it will be a home for all the grassland species and all the deep relationships which will build over time. That doesn’t happen overnight. A restoration’s greatest value may be what it does for the life in the adjacent native prairies, but patience is needed.

I’ve been dancing around that thought in various blog posts lately, talking about border effects and enlarging populations of native plants to provide a deeper genetic bank to help the plants in the relict prairies. Chris stated the thought succinctly that the largest benefit of the restoration is what it does for the prairie remnants they connect and protect. That really speaks to me. I have four prairie remnant on my home farm, three of high quality which are intertwined with the restorations, about 100 acres. And my farm adjoins about 1000 acres of native grass to the west. Thus, my 200 acres of restorations are aiding and protecting over 1000. That thought really pleases me; I think we have something here. But there’s more.

Above is an area in the restoration with very xeric soils, much like the first picture from the native prairie. Though many of the plant species we have established are the same, it doesn’t look much like it, only improved by the pretty young woman in the picture. Yet, it is accomplishing a great deal and is steadily developing it’s own structure. What will it look like in 50 or 200 years? I would pay good money to see it.

My last point also goes back to Chris’ post, and to the picture above. The restoration is a success if it is accomplishing the goals which led you to do the restoration. I have been talking a lot lately about the goal of creating a living seed bank on my land, but there are other goals. Bailey Howard, the young woman in the picture, is a friend from the Twin Cities who is deeply interested in the world and how to do good in it. I was able to give her one example to consider, and because of our friendship we will likely revisit this and she will try to learn more. Earlier this summer I hosted eight students, mostly master’s candidates from the Native Plant Initiative lab run by my friend, Dr. Lora Perkins at SDSU. Some will likely join me in September to help plant seedling plugs or gather seed and gain experience and knowledge on my land. In two weeks the local Conservation District is coming as part of a tour of different aspects of conservation in Day County. None of these people give a flying you-know-what if this isn’t a perfect replication of what prairie should be around here, but there will be questions and conversations and observations and much will be learned. Education and outreach are stated goals of mine for this project, and I am relishing this success.

Finally, here’s what perhaps a third of the restoration looks like on some of the slightly better soils, aided by our rainy summer. Though it looks great, there are a lot of nits I could pick, and I still hope to add to the diversity here. Still, this is clearly a success and a joy to be in. I have been ill for a stretch, and my therapy today will be to go wander in the restoration. In that way, as well it is a success. Having a place where people can go to find solace is also a stated goal of this project. Every year I refer to my dodgy health and my uncertainty as to how long I can work at this. That’s fine, it’s just life, and I have to be humble enough to give up some things down the road. Yet today I am richly rewarded and feel very successful. And tomorrow we will get up, “strap em back on”, and see what wonders await.