The newest flower in the prairie

One of my greatest joys is taking children into my prairie. The prairie when you're a pint-sized three feet tall is a totally different experience than when you're an adult - with adult eyes and adult height.

This past weekend, our granddaughters came to visit. We carried Hannah in last year when she was only a year and a half. This year at 2 1/2, she's making her own tracks.  We discovered flowers and picked them. She ran each bloom back out to her mama and Grandma Linda waiting outside the prairie tangle. And then she waded back in to discover another treasure.

Our youngest granddaughter visited the prairie in her father's arms. At three months, she was oblivious, but I hope some of the experience soaked in through prairie magic and she'll be ready to take her first prairie steps next year.

When it was time to go, Hannah wasn't ready to leave. She could have played in the prairie for a long time discovering something new - just as I do - at every step. Children bloom in the prairie and that's as much fun to see than any other flowers.

All in how you look at it

'What's going on in the prairie?' I asked my husband when he picked me up at the airport. I'd been gone a month. I figured the prairie would be flourishing. Imagine my surprise when he said, 'Nothing. It looks just like it did when you left.'

Since it was dark when we drove past, I couldn't dispute his assessment. But the next morning, I walked out to take a look for myself.

At first glance, I had to say he was right. The dried residue from last year's plants still poked high above the spring's new growth. But on second look, I saw that plants were in bloom, and not just a few. Many. How could he have missed them?

My husband drew his conclusion from the seat of his tractor mower. As always, the prairie rewards anyone who slows down to take a closer look. Even in early June, flowers were there, waiting to surprise and delight.

In the center of the prairie, bright blue spiderwart blossoms crowded the ends of slender stalks. A small clump of sweet black-eyed Susans foretold the blast of yellow that is on its way. A single purple coneflower added deep pink to the color mix. All these flowers were easy to overlook if you passed by too quickly.

It's always interesting to me how different people can look at the same set of facts and arrive at entirely different conclusions. It's true of politics. It's true of the memories family members share - or don't share - of living in the same household. It's true of the prairie.

Each perception can be right. It all depends on how you look at it.

Aqueducts - Not really Roman!

You know what the say about assumptions? Well, I made a big one when I saw the aqueducts running through Guamo, and assumed they were Roman era construction. Turns out, they're much more recent.

In the early 18th century, the city of Lucca needed a reliable source of clean, quality water. Mathematicians and hydraulic engineers debated approaches for a long time and construction didn't begin until the 19th century. Under the direction of royal architect Lorenzo Nottolini, construction on the 3,250 meter aqueduct began in 1823 and was completed in 1851.

It's surprising to realize the aqueduct we stumbled upon is only 160 years old. I compliment them - they did a great job creating a system that fits Italian history. Apologies, though, to all of you for providing inaccurate info.

The sun sets on Italy

I could go on writing about Italy for a long, long time. A writing adventure like the one Mary and I experienced this month cannot be captured in 350 words a day.

Blogs that didn’t get written could cover topics like ‘Lost in translation – the misadventures of two women who have an almost grasp of Italian’ or ‘The good, the bad and the ugly – how the iPhone saved us and the Internet nearly destroyed us,’ or ‘The writing on the wall – a new look at how graffiti decorates Italian cities.’

But, I’ve ripped off enough movie titles for one month. We arrived back in Iowa last night. Now I’m reading the mail, pulling weeds in the garden, and getting used to the extreme heat and humidity Iowa dishes out so well.

These last three images close out the month in style – Lights reflected in the Arno River in Pisa, a beautiful concerto performed in a church on our last night in Italy, and a sunset over the Tuscan hills after a storm.

Thank you to all of you who read along with me this month. I hope you enjoyed the trip abroad and that you’ll stop back in to Just Walking This Earth from time to time.

Ciao!