The cold wind in the Flint 
Hills on a “warm” winter day was brutal. I took a trip to there to collect some winter-dried grasses before the killer part of our 2011 winter set in.
I wasn’t ready for the early sunset while I was knee deep in the native grasses, surrounded by the woody remains of an old train station. I hadn’t noticed the increasing darkness, but the moon was rising large and orange, the temperature was sliding lower, and my nose was running freely.
Because the gravely, flint-laden soil make this land suitable for ranching, not farming, the plants are botanical descendents of what’s been here for millions of years – tallgrasses like Little Bluestem and Switchgrass.
This particular area has the largest untilled 
tallgrass prairie in North America. Heading home in dark night (at 6:00), the huge expanses of ancient prairie were barely visible.
And here’s a picture of some cool chickens I saw while I was there.
