Where the Grass is Green

Fairbury Cemetery

Prairie View From Fairbury Cemetery

Green Grass of a Peaceful Setting

Mary

Common Grave

Finding the Graves

Recording the Story

Finding My Granduncle Cob

East Station at Rock Creek

On the Trail of a Story

Clipped green grass covers the graves of my 4th-great grandaunt and 4th-great granduncle in Fairbury, Nebraska. The setting sun reflects colorful shafts of light, illuminating the long shadows of trees and gravestones. It's peaceful as a Victorian park; a proper resting ground for a couple who endured the best and worst of times in their decade of marriage.

The sun shone down with gladdening rays/ Sweet breezes fanned its groves/ and cheerful birds beguiled the days/ In gleeful songs of love. ~ Jas. McC.

Who knows where the grass is greener? Ask a horse or a heifer and they'll tell you it tastes sweetest beyond the fence. Ask a man with an itch to seek a better life or more excitement and he'll tell you it's greener out west. Ask a wife betrayed and she might remain as tight-lipped as the mistress, but with eyes red-rimmed from crying.

I'll see the forest like a dove/ And weep there for his sake,/ And wail my disappointed love/ Until this heart will break. ~ Jas. McC.

Having traveled from Idaho to Nebraska to find this resting spot, I look at the grave of Mary Green McCanles Hughes and read what is omitted from etched granite. Her stone renounces all her surnames. She was born a Green in the Blue Ridge region of western North Carolina. At the age of 17 she married D. C. McCanles and before she was 30 she was a widow on the tumultuous prairie with five children to raise. She married John Hughes a few years later, had a daughter and then divorced him.

Her granite gravestone reads simply, Mary.

Yet, telling beyond her name is that she still felt connected to the North Carolinian man she loved and married as a mountain girl. Despite the betrayal, the stunning death, the Awful War, the tribulations of pioneer homesteading, she still lay claim in death to her position: wife of D. C. McCanles.

May some kind Seraph on his flight/ Light on our earthly plain, In rapturous love our souls unite,/ And bring past joys again. ~ Jas. McC.

Mary's grave settles into the lawn next to her husband's. If you didn't know the story, it might be odd to see a single gravestone etched with the names of two men: D.C. McCanles and James Woods July 12, 1861. That's it. No claim to fame such as, "First man shot and killed by Wild Bill Hickok" or "Notorious Gang" or "Cheats on wife and gets shot."

 But woe to her that stabbed my peace,/ And crushed my youthful joy,/ My sorrow and my tears increase/ And my fond hopes destroy. ~ Jas. McC.

I'm going to tell you the story...but not today. It's an historical work of fiction called, Rock Creek. And I'm writing it from Elmira Pond after years of tinkering with research out of curiosity. Both Mary and D. C. McCanles are related to me through both my Green and McCanles lines so I've known about the incident for a while. It was through writing flash fiction that I began to see a story emerge.

My big questions revolve around greener pastures. Why did D. C. have an affair? Why did he leave North Carolina? Why settle at Rock Creek? Why did Mary follow? To understand D. C. and his women is to better understand why D. C. and Hickok came to violence.

Where the grass is greenest is where the story holds its enigma, waiting to be explored and understood.

NOTE: Verses are excerpts from poetry by my 5th-greatgrandfather, James McCanles. He was the father of D. C. whom I call Cob in my WIP. Cob is a family nickname, short for his middle name Colbert. The poetry is from my own personal collection, a gift from my Grandfather Sonny, along with his research and notes about the 1861 incident. Photos are from my recent trip to Nebraska. Thanks to my research companions for finding and documenting these graves with me.

Missed Moments

A Lovely Day in Elmira

Watching Each Other

Same Days

Swallow Harassing Osprey (June 2013)

Osprey Hovering to Fish (June 2013)

Osprey Dive on Elmira Pond (May 2013)

Grass Like Velvet

Parting Shot of Deer Rump

And then there are those times you groan because you left the camera upstairs!

Sitting on the porch, I'm sinking back into my plastic chair with every sense absorbing the perfect air temperature and sunshine. I can feel my body soaking up vitamin D like a sponge deprived of water. It's 73 degrees, low humidity and blue skies.

It's one of those days that I'm beguiled by the sameness--it's the same green grass, the same pond, the same horses, the same blackbirds and darting tree swallows. We are lulled by the common life. We often miss moments believing that today is the same as yesterday.

Because it's not.

Mid sip of second-cup-coffee, I look at the horses munching grass only to see a magnificent sight. A large bird the color of smudged charcoal has tucked its wings into an inverted dive. It's like Johnathon Livingston Seagull flew threw soot on his downward flight from heaven above.

Jolted to my senses, I stand up. Within seconds of realizing that it is an osprey in a silent dive he hits the pond like a cannonball, unfurling those strong three-foot wings to reveal his white chest and massive fishing talons. And there I stand, camera-less.

Despite the blackbird harassment that has kept him from Elmira Pond since late May, he circles around for another dive. One leg tenses to run into the house, grab the camera. The other leg relaxes, knowing this is a moment not to be missed in person.

Decision made, I walk closer to the pond to watch, acknowledging that our days are never the same.

The osprey hovers to spot fish and three blackbirds swoop at him. He holds, concentrates, then breaks away to circle. Again he glides and one blackbird is so determined that he rides the osprey like a surfboard. I can imagine his tiny bird toes pricking the back of the osprey, but he's just as determined to fish.

Finally! I've been disappointed that the blackbirds have managed to thwart the osprey from fishing. It's made me crave blackbird pie, but I figured that if the osprey wanted to fish, he would. And this is that moment.

He makes another unsuccessful dive then loops around the pond higher and higher. I chirp to him and he circles another five times before gliding off to the north.

The grass blows softly in the slight breeze on the little island in the pond. It looks like a soft green velvet. The water reflections cast an  illusion of a shallow pond, as if you can see a rocky bottom.

The sorrel mare raises her head, ears pricked forward like radar. Usually its a feral cat, but I follow her gaze and see the reddish-golden hide of a white-tail deer trotting to the pond for a drink. I groan. No camera.

This time the tense leg wins and I dash to the house, grab the camera and manage a shot of her bottom as she disappears through the willows.

No day is ever the same. And some moments do beg for a camera.

Elmira Pond Live

Visiting Earth Day Mallard

The Greening

Earth Day arrives gray and rainy, bringing the moisture required for the greening. Walking through the pastures the ground feels spongy. Clumps of moss grow grass that feeds geese and horses, along with the browsing elk and midnight moose.

Yesterday while on the phone with a friend, Blue Heron spread his 6-foot wings and glided over the edge of the pond to land by the Canada goose couple. Excited, I ran outside on the phone and she reminded me that my phone could record footage. It's a new phone, and a new option for me to yet master.

So, for Earth Day, I'm going to give you my choppy first attempts at filming Elmira Pond. This is the first time I've ever shared the pond live. Forgive the bumps and wiggles of my unsteady hand and traipsing gait. But I hope you enjoy a live glimpse!

Elmira Live