Grassland soils

Camel's Hump Middle School students take a grassland soil sample.  November 2010.

Poem by Bailey W.

Quiet chirps of the small grasshoppers fill my ears. This place grows and grows more over the long years.

The river rushing below sends water to all, resulting in drinks for all who answer nature’s wild call.

Wind rustles through my hair as if to give me a silly dare. “Run faster than the voles. Be sure to not fall into any holes.”

People, who don’t ever see such dainty plants and such, are missing way too much.

If you yearn to hear the rush of water, the wind in your hair, and where the grass rolls on and on,

There’s only one place called the Audubon.

What I Hear by Maia P.

Swish, swish. I hear the distant water crashing against rusty cracked rocks. The wind clearing my mind, slowly taking over my every move. I feel like flying, to get away from earth, to become a sound or maybe even to become invisible. Out of sight, out of mind. Every so often, a faint noise echos inside my mind, all my focus becomes centered on that noise. Whether it is a bird, car, an animal walking on grass, the wind knocking something over, or an acorn falling from a tree, i still hear it. However i only hear these things when time stops, the world becomes clear to me, as clear as crystal water dripping down into a silent lake. When time stops, i realize how beautiful the world really is. I feel the crisp air across my face. I see all the tiny pieces of grass that are just growing there, how they feel every movement. I inhale the fresh aroma of nature, and release more carbon dioxide every time. The sky begins to darken, and the crisp air becomes smooth.