Written by Alex Blondeau, Upstream Care for Place Fellow

Everything was new in this place, or so I thought. As I walked through the tall grass, my senses were on fire as I took in the abundance of textures, colors, and sounds. I was in my late 30s, exploring for the first time a section of land that had never been plowed.

As I began climbing a steep hill, I plucked the dried flower head of an interesting-looking plant, crushed it between my fingers, and smelled its aroma. It stopped me in my tracks. I had been here before!

Like only a scent can, I was immediately transported to my childhood. The plants were taller than me, and I was following my father while he hunted pheasants. I never enjoyed the hunting part, but I was apparently curious about what different plants smelled like!

My father has been gone for nearly 20 years now. I had been gone myself, but in a less permanent sense. That walk through a remnant prairie was the beginning of a homecoming for me. I had recently moved back to Fergus Falls after over a decade of living in more urban areas. I was beginning to fall in love with parts of our landscape that retained memories of a story much more ancient than the ones told by rows of corn and soybeans.

I was discovering that the land where I was raised had a depth to it that I had been ignorant of, or at least had forgotten. I was looking closely, finding surprising beauty, and, apparently, my childhood and my father. 

True story. Also a good metaphor.

That little adventure (which took place on Blanket Flower SNA, if you’re curious), was only the beginning of a journey of discovery. I have since learned that the diversity present on our remnant prairies is on par with that of the Amazon Rainforest! That’s an impressive bit of data, but I’ve learned a lot more than data by simply finding and spending time in these ecological treasures.

From pasque flowers to puccoons and June grass to gentians, I’ve been smitten. I’ve gone on to work for an organization that cares for these remnant prairies, as well as opening my own native plant nursery, Windflower Natives. Every day I’m able to be part of this system of life, and every day my own life feels more deeply rooted as a result. 

One of my favorite thinkers, Paul Tillich, said that love is the reunion of that which has been separated—a reconnection with something that is an essential part of us. It’s a stunning insight, and it makes sense of why this feels like a homecoming for me. So much of our day-to-day can feel like a separation from life. How can we change this?

I won’t leave you with a call to stewardship. That may come later, or maybe not. For now, I’d like to invite you listen for that voice from your childhood, the one that smells the dried up flower heads beneath the October sky. Adventure calls to us from our remaining natural spaces, and there you may, like me, find love, the heartbeat of life-itself. 

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Alex Blondeau lives in Fergus Falls, Minnesota, among the hills that once formed the shores of Glacial Lake Agassiz. He was first introduced to the region’s natural wonders on hunting trips with his father, an art teacher and avid outdoorsman. Alex holds undergraduate degrees in fine arts and a PhD in theology from Luther Seminary in St. Paul. He is the owner of Windflower Natives, a mail-order native plant nursery specializing in some of the more difficult to find native plants.