I took a little road trip recently that was supposed to be just a weekend getaway, but it kind of turned into a prairie restoration mini-tour.
Everyone should drive down U.S. Highway 61 anyway, and I intend to drive it’s entire length someday, from Grand Portage at the very tip of Minnesota’s arrowhead to New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico. Last week, though, I settled for the stretch between St. Paul and Winona, MN, but those two hours were completely worth it. Called the Driftless Region, it’s unlike anything else in mostly glacier-flattened Minnesota, with a procession of pretty little river towns and cities settled in along the Mississippi under the shadows of the looming bluffs.
I stopped at a few places along the way, including the Whistle Stop Cafe in Frontenac, where I had one of the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever (white bread and American cheese, none of this fancy stuff, thank you very much).
But when I pulled in at the National Eagle Center in Wabasha to see if there were any eagles hanging out, I found something I wasn’t expecting (but should have): strips of prairie plantings surrounding the building and the public space next to it.
It made a really inviting space connecting Wabasha’s downtown to the river, and the mini prairie bordering the building just added to the wonder of what the area might have looked like before European settlers appeared on the scene.
The next day I ventured out the Prairie Moon Nursery south of Winona. I knew about this place from my research. What I didn’t know was that they don’t have a retail store (even though it says “We don’t have a retail store” right there on their web site, duh). All the orders are taken online or by phone and shipped out to customers. I asked if I could look around anyway, and they were kind enough to let me and even give me a little tour.
Prairie Moon is one of the bigger sources of seeds and plants for people who want to start their own prairies, whether it’s a major restoration or just a little microprairie like mine. Their fields of sunflowers and wild quinine were in full bloom right when I was there, and they were quite spectacular.
Finally, on Saturday I visited the Minnesota Marine Art Museum in Winona. I had been wanting to go here for a while to see the art, but then I found out about their “seventh gallery,” as they call it, their 3+ acres of native plant gardens outside, and that sealed the deal.
Standing on a path in the middle of the museum’s reconstructed prairie, with its coneflowers and milkweed, nodding onions and little bluestem twitching and waving in the wind, it was again like throwback, giving me just a little glimpse of what the vast prairies must have been like 200 years ago. (The art inside was definitely worth the trip, too.)
One thing I noticed in particular as I was driving around on backroads in the area: all the native plants blooming in roadside ditches. Daylilies, black-eyed Susan, wild quinine, everywhere I went they were bouncing in the breeze and buzzing with life. Even though only about 1% of Minnesota’s original prairie is left, it’s encouraging to see these native plants returning to the landscape—whether with intent in public places or by accident along the roadside—and to know that people are taking prairie restoration seriously. Seeing all this encouraged me and gave me new ideas for how to expand my microprairie in my own “public space,” my front yard.
That’s why travel is so awesome—you never know what you’re going to find around the next bend in the road and how what you find will inspire you.
(None of the businesses mentioned in this post are sponsors.)