Survival of the Fittest

Ah Kansas, where the wind never stops blowing, or so it seems. We've had nearly two months of tripple digit temps with only a handful of mild days. And rain...well we did get a few drops here and there.

We have not been watering our flowers because of a city water shortage, but we have been watering our trees simply because we have more invested in them. Sixteen years of coaxing, watering, trimming these trees and now we are finally seeing some results.

So what can survive weeks and weeks without water? Well let's first take a look at what DIDN'T survive:


Our lawn--brown and crunchy.


I found this little nest under a pine tree. The heat wasn't the cause of it's demise but the never-ending wind was.


Believe it or not, even these weeds did not survive. But they do like to attack me with little stickers when I walk by. That's my compost bin in the metal trash can and it's doing quite nicely. It has that rich earthy odor and I can't wait to use it this fall.


One of our beautiful maples. In autumn this tree had the most gorgeous orange color.


And it's twin also bit the dust. I'm pretty bummed about this. They took so long to get this big.


And the jury is out on whether these next few will survive. Crossing my fingers on this River Birch. It has a few green leaves and we continue to water it, but it really looks bad.


Shasta Dasies that barely flowered, and are now wilted. I hope they come back next year because I love these little guys!


Stella de Oro lilies with no flowers at all. I'm hoping these come back too.


Our sweet little Ginko tree. I love how her curvy leaves flutter in the wind. She's a slow grower and I'd hate to see her go. This is her good side. I'm sure she would want it that way.



And just what you've been waiting for, with baited breath, I'm sure: What can survive in weeks of tripple digit temps with no water?

These little flowers came up from seed with no coaxing or watering at all. They're a bit of brightness in anotherwise sad garden.


Out of four mums this one is the only one that survived. It's flowers are very small, and there's only a few


I'm sure you're not surprised that these weeds are green and growing. But you might be surprised that we haven't done anything about them.


Most every farmer that planted corn lost their crop due to the heat and lack of rain. But across the road from our home is a nice green field of soybeans. Go Beans!


A transplant from another field--not sure what it is.


Another transplant which looks a bit like milo. It's getting cozy with the brown weeds.


Miss Maggie has survived, but just barely. And we do give her water and shade.


Sedum purpureum, or Live Forever as my mom used to call it. Aptly named, wouldn't you say?



We have 25 living trees plus a row of pine trees in the back. It takes all day running two hoses at a trickle to water all of them. We never water our lawn because we think it's a waste of water, and we have three acres which is impossible to keep watered anyway. We have let Mother Nature take it's course for 16 years, but we will be burning it this fall and re-seeding--hopefully.

So what is or isn't surviving in your yard?

Symphony in the Flint Hills

This past weekend we were given last-minute tickets to the 7th Annual Symphony in the Flint Hills, which was set in the last stand of Tallgrass Prairie.

'Once a vast prairie covered one-third of our continent–an endless grassland teeming with bison, deer, antelope, fowl and wildflowers of every color. Today, an untouched piece of that prairie still exists in the Flint Hills of Kansas.

Each spring there is a gathering, a coming together of art, nature and the kindred souls who appreciate them both. For one evening, the meadowlark’s song is joined by a Symphony in the Flint Hills.

Before the plow tilled the surrounding lands, before train track split the endless sea of green, native grasses stood as high as a man’s chest on the tallgrass prairie. Here, where vast limestone and flint deposits made tilling impractical, the largest portion of virgin tallgrass prairie remains intact in the Kansas Flint Hills. This is where we gather.'
Taken from the website

It was a mile long walk from the parking lot to where the symphony was located. We meandered along the winding path through the beautiful Tallgrass Prairie, where a stiff breeze kept us from roasting in the sun. Along the path were local ranchers sitting tall on their horses, and sometimes posing for photos.







Just over the rolling hills we could see the very tips of a dozen or more white tents. And as we got closer it was quite a sight. Over 7,000 people gathered from 55 Kansas counties, several states, and even a few who traveled here from abroad. The tents held food, beer & wine, and information on educational topics such as prairie plants, geology of the Flint Hills, history of cowboys, and art inspired by the prairie. There was even an ‘Instrument Petting Zoo’ under one tent. And if you arrived early enough you could catch a ride in a covered wagon for a spin out on the prairie.









The symphony itself was wonderful. Most of the pieces were related to spring and summer, the vast prairie, cowboys and the like. Up in the hazy sky was a small plane, probably taking photos of the event. There were a few times the plane seemed to be in sync with the concert as it glided back and forth silently across the sky.









The riders and their horses put on a show of their own out on the prairie; some posing for photos, letting the little ones pet the horse, or sending the horse on a gallop. As the concert ended the ranchers gathered up all the cattle and herded them to water. It was quite a sight to see, and the crowd went wild with applause and snapping photo after photo.







The Big Guy up above put on a show of his own, after all he is a Master Artist. Behind the orchestra the rolling hills made a wonderful backdrop. And just as the concert was about to end, the bright orange sun settled down on the horizon like a big ball of fire. I don’t think it can get any better than that!







So the first weekend in June my husband and I ate a gourmet meal in a beautiful cornfield close to the Kaw river—a lovely setting. And the second weekend in June we were listening to the Symphony in the Flint Hills, with the Tallgrass Prairie and the rolling hills as the backdrop.

After two events in a row I fear we are in danger of becoming refined. But my husband assured me with his response ‘It ain’t gonna happen’.

A big thanks to my husband for taking these wonderful photos!