Four Doors to Heaven
The great prairies of the world seem to exist outside of ordinary time. Nothing ever seems quite out of place there…not an old Chrysler, not a horse and buggy, not an anti-gravity sled. Not a wooden church, not a sod hut, not a silvery biosphere. The prairie accepts everything with magnificent indifference; a thing will survive on the prairie or it won’t. If it survives, it belongs there. If it fails to survive, then its bones belong there.
Kathleen Norris, a poet and a farmer, said wariness about change is a kind of prairie wisdom. I don’t think the prairie is wary of change at all; I think it’s simply in no hurry to reach a decision. The church may stand or it may crumble and be covered by the grass, the Chrysler may gleam with polish or its rusted frame may become home for spiders and mice. It’s all one to the prairie. Time will pass. The wind will blow and the seasons change, and the grass will bear witness.
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