Secrets of the Sandhills
A Nebraska Sandhills Novel
Spring Renaissance
Rebirth in the Sand
Driving across Nebraska from east to west in the spring we notice a disparity in color. Deciduous trees are leafed out in Omaha. Lawns are dark green and freshly mown in Grand Island. But the landscape changes as we gain altitude on Highway 2 and the loamy earth shifts to sand at Anselmo. Suddenly, the hills are still brown from the long, cold winter. It seems as if spring forgot to pass this way. Why is there such a stark contrast in color?
My first encounter with with the Sandhills was in the spring of '81. My brother-in-law, Marley, invited me on a fishing trip with his grandpa up in Rock County. It was a sort of sending off party for me a few days before I left for Army basic training. Grandpa Ray Sybrant led us on an excursion that altered my course in life. Our battles with wind, driving rain, an old wooden boat with a gas motor that wouldn't start, and a flat tire on the truck were enough to stamp memories for a lifetime. It was one of the greatest days of my high school years.
To find spring in the Sandhills one must look closely. The hills are covered with warm season grasses that show very little sign of life until any chance of frost is past. But if you look closer, you will spot tiny, exquisite flowers such as the milkvetch above. Then, if your nose detects the sweet fragrance of plum blossoms, you can follow the scent upwind to the snow-white bushes that frequent road ditches and side hills. Cool season grasses such as brome and wild oats provide green borders around the bare trees in the low spots. Willows around the lakes and ponds are hinting of life.
Migratory birds such as the long-billed curlew make their annual pilgrimage north to nest and rear their young. Marshy air is filled with the distinct songs of the yellow-headed blackbirds and the whomping call of the bittern. Canada Geese take advantage of the isolated safety of muskrat lodges to lay their eggs.
Newborn calves romp in the sand, testing out their youthful agility. Their mammas are still feeding on last year's hay until the cool season meadow grass stretches out to touch the ever-growing warmth of the sun.
Springtime in the Sandhills may be drawn out longer than most of the world, but it gives us more chance to enjoy new life on Earth. So let's warm our lives a bit and spend some time in "The Land of the Living!"
