Experiencing Nature in Warren County, Indiana 1

Heading west on State Route 26 from West Lafayette toward Pine Village, Indiana, we cross from one world to another. Behind us is a land of green, rolling hills interspersed with level farms stretching across the south-central portions of Indiana all the way to Chillicothe, Ohio. Ahead are farms flat as tables, fewer trees, and soil comprised of black loam so black that, on an overcast day, the clouds reflect the darkness. The startling transition occurs between Goose Creek and Little Pine Creek. I never fail to be moved by the change in terrain.

On the Edge of the Prairie

Drawing by Edmund H. Garrett (1853–1929)

Engraved by Samuel Smith Kilburn (1831–1903)

In The Closing Scene

Philadelphia, J. B. Lippincott Co., 1887

I am a writer, not a geographer, so I am only guessing. I suppose that the black soils are drained marshes that formerly laced the stands of prairie grass. Across the nearby border of Illinois, the prairie once lay like a fantastic ocean, its waves a reflection of the winds waving the tops of the tawny coral and reddened stems. Islands of the grass extended eastward into the Hoosier fens (and, farther to the north, as eastward as Ohio). My Quaker ancestors established a farm in Warren County, Indiana, in 1826 and 1827. They saw the prairie and the bog, as well as the wooded inlets just to the south of Warren County’s northern boundary. I can hardly imagine what they witnessed, but the ebony soil and the level fields of my childhood near Pine Village are no less obvious today. They signify a distinctive landscape with its own qualities.

Growing up, I felt that life on the former prairie had been tougher, demanding more than was required in the gentler landscape to the east. The winter wind howled with greater menace, and the blizzard threatened to snuff out life. The lightning of the spring storms flashed with the constant and blinding flicker of battles. Tornadoes called for vigilance and quick action. Our inner springs were wound tightly so that we might respond mechanically to danger.

Simultaneously, the beauty of the place enriched our lives. Many a hectic traveler rushing northward along Interstate 65 considers the landscape a monotonous and boring horizon of treeless fields. Inhabitants know how to discern details the commuter overlooks. Subtle variations in elevation and color of the soils delight the eye. Out-of-the-way streams afford magnificent views worthy of painters and photographers. And the sky changes by the hour with deepest blues at the summer zenith, through great billows of clouds like sails on clipper ships, to breathtaking sunsets and sunrises! Add wildlife and wildflowers to these pictures, and we have plenty of beauty to balance the gloom of the loam.