This morning we packed up and moved out almost before anybody else in camp woke up, and we marched on to Walnut Grove, on the banks of Plum Creek.
Surreal. This is the town that time forgot. We had to drive around and wrangle the GPS to figure out where the dug-out was, but what a great reward! The property is now owned by a farming family, but they maintain the area around the dugout for visitors. For $5, a car full of rowdy kids and a dreamer can imagine a life in pioneer times to their hearts content. The family has planted original prairie grasses around the site to give a better idea of what it was like to live there, and the grass soared above St. George’s head.
The dugout has collapsed, and it has not been restored. A yellow rope outlines where it was, and the path to the creek, the spring, and the footbridge are still there. At least a close approximation. The foot bridge has obviously been replaced. 
The air is a bit humid here, but not uncomfortably so, and a hike around the grounds was in order. Wild flowers and mulberries grew thickly along the creek. We saw dragon flies, caterpillars, colorful birds, ate mulberries…i hope they are mulberries…what if they are poisonous???? Well, if I my time to die is now, at least I died in bliss with a belly-full id something wild and sweet. Not a bad way to go. 
But we didn’t die. And imagine Pa pitching hay and prairie grasses in this field until he had made a high stack to feed the oxen for the winter. And imagine Laura and Mary in this beautiful summer field, all bright and green and blue, with that haystack inviting them: “Come. Slide down. You were made for the joy of sliding.” It all makes sense as you stand in this field. You can almost hear the grasshoppers chewing every green thing in sight, feel their sharp little bodies crawling ofer your feet.
There is a beautiful homesteading museum in Walnut Grove, including a few articles that had belonged to the Ingalls family. There was an old-timey jail, a replica dug-out (“All five of them lived THERE???” asked Miss Magpie. Yep), a small prairie town the kids could play in (hands on free play is a thing in the Midwest, it seems ❤️❤️❤️), even an old shanty replica. 
When we were all played out, we headed to our final prairie life place, De Smet South Dakota. 
I reserved a camp site for two nights on Thompson Lake where Laura and Almanzo liked to spend their Sundays while courting. The drive in was breathtaking, water lapping up on the road, crossing the road in some places, swans, ducks, red birds, yellow birds, wild flowers…i am very happy to call this our home for a few days. 
Recent Comments