Rain Makes Tallgrass Grow--TRIP 3

Limestone fences separate the Jones Ranch house and barn
from the fields of tallgrass where cattle roamed.

Emporia was blanketed with clouds, and a steady rain fell this morning. I can't begrudge them," said Andy. "This country needs rain so desperately."
At 9:15 a.m. when we drove toward Tallgrass Preserve, puddles lined the road, pond water level rose, soy bean fields looked refreshed and trucks splayed clouds of spray in all directions.

A barbed wire fence lines Windmill Pasture.

"We're in rain," said Andy, looking at the weather report, "but the worst of the thunderstorms are south of us."
Clouds hung low and with the big sky we could turn 360 degrees from the knoll at Tallgrass Preserve and point out pockets where precipitation fell in the distance.  But it didn't rain at Tallgrass. At least it didn't rain for the two hours we walked around the Z-Bar Ranch barn, ice house, chicken coops, garage and family garden or took the 1.5-mile Nature Trail in a loop to two overlooks.

On a lonely rise, Lower Fox Creek Schoolhouse stands
sentry as time passes.

The sun came out in Cottonwood Falls with its Chase County Courthouse, as Little Red lumbered over the cobblestone streets of town, but within minutes grey clouds moved back in and the dribble spotted the windshield again.
One pullout along the Scenic Byway (Route #177) stood out bright yellow against the prairie.  Hundreds of golden sunflowers, the state flower of Kansas, nodded in the breeze.
A red-tailed hawk swooped overhead, and in the distance, a lonely train whistle sounded its presence: Tooot, Toooooooooot, Toot, Toot.

Stalks of Maximillian sunflowers
color the autumn landscape.

With a misty sprinkle falling, we headed back to Emporia, the founding city of Veterans Day.
"It just doesn't know what it wants to do, and I don't want to get soaked," said Andy.
Even though clouds covered the sun south of Emporia, at Flint Hills National Wildlife Refuge, the rain held off. We walked the Burgess Marsh Trail, a concrete path out to a boardwalk, and spotted three birds of prey. At the far end of the boardwalk, a marsh of sun flowers past their prime surrounded the platform; at the near end, a woodpecker tapped loudly on a dead tree.
 I directed Andy down gravel Garner Road to the ponds formed by the Neosho River.  The water level, down at least three feet, looked murky and dirty.  Andy saw one large bird swoop down just as we pulled in, but otherwise all was quiet.