The Wildflowers Don’t Know Where Missouri Ends
I watched wildflowers blooming across a county line yesterday and realized the Ozarks have been ignoring our maps for thousands of years.
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The Courthouse That Became a Hospital and the Women Who Worked It
I’ve been searching the archives for the women who turned the Phelps County Courthouse into a hospital in 1861—the ones history only called “the ladies of the town.”
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The Courthouse That Became a Hospital Before It Ever Held a Trial
The Phelps County Courthouse was still unfinished when Union surgeons started laying wounded men across its floors after Wilson’s Creek.
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The Wildflowers That Race the Clock
The spring peeper frog chorus is back, and I want to tell you what Missouri settlers knew: those tiny frozen-and-thawed frogs are your planting calendar.
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The Wildflowers That Race the Trees
The spring peeper frog chorus is back, and I want to tell you what Missouri settlers knew: those tiny frozen-and-thawed frogs are your planting calendar.
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The Flowers That Race the Clock: What Spring Ephemerals Teach Us About Timing
The spring peeper frog chorus is back, and I want to tell you what Missouri settlers knew: those tiny frozen-and-thawed frogs are your planting calendar.
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The Tree That Blooms Before It Believes in Spring
The spring peeper frog chorus is back, and I want to tell you what Missouri settlers knew: those tiny frozen-and-thawed frogs are your planting calendar.
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The Frog Chorus Is Back: And Your Great-Grandmother Knew What It Meant
The spring peeper frog chorus is back, and I want to tell you what Missouri settlers knew: those tiny frozen-and-thawed frogs are your planting calendar.
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The Whip-poor-will’s Return: A Sound You Can’t Unhear
I counted a whip-poor-will’s return at 73 calls before it paused—and that sound told Ozark farmers exactly when to plant corn.
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The Flower That Bleeds: What Bloodroot Taught Me About Showing Up Before You’re Ready
A White Square on the Forest Floor I found my first bloodroot of the season yesterday morning, tucked against the base of an oak where the leaf litter had pulled back just enough. Eight white petals, arranged in that odd square shape that makes you do a double-take. By the time I walked back that…
