Ah, this place. Ever-changing with the sun and wind, time and temperature, animals and water. Where tiny frogs sing to the night sky and mud clings to boots; where the sunrise greets me between the splitting trunks of a honey locust every morning, and people welcome me home. Again, and again. You know this place. 

Guess who? Yep, it’s Prairie again, with another update from the emerging emerald grasses of Dancing Rabbit. 

I had just returned to Dancing Rabbit from a trip abroad when I gave y’all my last update. Now, I find myself at the end of the same cycle, having completed my speaking tour just last week. In late February, I left Dancing Rabbit  and traveled to Chicago, then to Northeast Ohio, then back to Chicago, and down to Austin, Texas, before hopping back up north to Missouri on the first of April. Then I was off again to Saint Louis, Missouri, back to Dancing Rabbit, and then out to Grinnell, Iowa. Now, I can feel my roots tapping into the mycelium of my home, reconnecting with my friends as I simultaneously digest and integrate my time on the road over the last five weeks.  

I met some vividly unique and inspiring humans along my journey. I discovered that speaking in front of people feels sort of like freefalling off of a cliff if I don’t have a slideshow beside me to slow my descent into the unknown. I learned that, although I cherish Amtrak, I cannot in fact, sleep soundly on overnight trains or buses. I spoke in colleges, public libraries, homes, a small shop, a co-housing community, and a middle school, and came to understand that there are many people that are passionate, curious, and eager for a sustainable change in the world. 

I encountered deeply humbling and fortifying gifts of generosity in the form of free places to stay, meals, a friend of a friends’ van to use for a day, time and attention—all from people I had never even met before! That, in addition to the GoFundMe that so many people so kindly donated to, has given me the poignant and most urgent takeaway from my adventure: generosity is what I want to give, love, and live. 

So, fueled, and simultaneously exhausted by, my recent dance with mainstream North America, I hit the ground running at Dancing Rabbit.  

Max turned 13 shortly after my final tour stop and what better way to celebrate than with a game of capture the flag, followed by ice cream and lemonade at the pond? It was after plunging into the dark, cold water, lying on the dock with my beloved friends, ice cream bowl in hand, sun sending warmth into my body, that the simple beauty of my life caught and held me in its profundity. Where else would I rather be right now? I wondered. And then, I cannot believe this is where I live, that this planet is my home, and these people are my chosen family.  

Those thoughts continued into the weekend as we approached, then carried out, our biannual, community Land Clean Day. Land Clean is what I have come to recognize as something of a holiday at Dancing Rabbit—and one of my favorites! We begin by gathering at 9 a.m. on a Saturday (I know, we’re committed) and hyping ourselves up with the “Building Dancing Rabbit” song, before going over a list of tasks and projects that need hands. Emeshe, Leslie, Max and I took on the seemingly endless and impossible task of repainting our Common House. By noon, covered in paint splatters and cobwebs, we had gotten farther than we thought we would, but there is still a long way to go. A project that will hopefully be continued another time. 

Some of the Land Clean crew. Photo by Emeshe.

The three hours after lunch are designated for personal cleaning time. For the members of Ironweed Kitchen, that means spending an hour tidying the land around our eating space. Of course, one hour turned into all three for me, and my own home did not benefit from this spring’s Land Clean. As you’ve probably gathered, there is always more work to do around Dancing Rabbit, and it is very easy for me to get sucked into the Ironweed Kitchen cleaning vortex. 

There is something undeniably satiating to me about working with dozens of people on one shared vision: making our village a cleaner, more vibrant, and welcoming place. And that is exactly what we did. 

Land Clean is one of many landmarks of the ever-emerging spring season. The garlic we planted last fall is reaching heavenward, while the daffodils opened their light, fluffy faces to the sun; all of the fruit trees are in full bloom, leaving trails of magenta, orange, and creamy white confetti-like petals around the village. Chickweed, henbit, and nettles abound, along with blue jays, bumblebees, and butterflies. 

We’re not out of the woods yet, of course. As I write this, I see a reminder on my phone of photos I took on this day, two years ago, in which everything is covered in thick blankets of snow. Anything could happen. 

In the meantime, I will continue to walk barefoot when I can and take care of the spaces that I inhabit. Our first visitor session of the year begins in less than a week and I am looking forward to sharing my world with fresh faces. 

After hearing myself talk about Dancing Rabbit week after week around the Midwest and down South, I began to miss my home. There is no place I would rather be in this moment. If I had a nickel for every time I thought, I love this place… well, you get the picture. We are a complementary and complicated mix of humans in a unique and unlikely set of circumstances. But we’ve made something extraordinary. This planet is my home. And these people are my family. And I intend to savor every exquisite piece of this puzzle of existence for as long as I can. I hope you do as well.

 

Prairie Johnson has returned to all her jobs for the village, including the SubHub project crew. She is building a beautiful built-in cabinet in SubHub’s living room, with a secret panel at the back that can be pulled out in the summer to let cool air come into the room, or to act as an insulated plug to keep the living room warm in the winter. Pretty cool, right?