Prairie Rhythms: Predators and Pastoral Stewardship

As I prepare for my upcoming living sculpture titled "Sequel," I had the opportunity to explore the prairie ecosystems at Pierce Ranch. The morning started with collecting prairie seeds, which is a vital step in bringing my sculpture to life. To enhance my understanding of these ecosystems and find the most viable seeds, I reached out to a local prairie conservationist who has been instrumental in restoring numerous prairies, notably preserving the Katy Prairie. Collecting seeds is much like eating crawfish, proven to be a catalyst for engaging and enlightening dialogue.

The insights I gained from this exchange confirmed my concerns regarding land preservation. It might surprise and disturb you to learn that the most vibrant and diverse prairies aren't necessarily those that are protected. Rather, they are the prairies that have embraced a more dynamic relationship with the land through careful ranching practices and thrive with life and diversity.

Historically, the natural balance between predators and prey shaped these ecosystems. Predators once hunted freely, guiding the movements of herbivore herds, naturally managing the consumption of vegetation (energy) and the dispersal of organic matter in the form of dung, returning energy back into the soil. However, human intervention led to the decline of these predators, overgrazing, and the desertification of ranchlands. Modern-day ranchers have learned to adapt by using portable fences to mimic these natural movements. This modern adaptation sustains the prairie as a healthy ecosystem, supporting numerous bird species and wildlife.

Through this blog post, I hope to reach an audience unaware of the critical role of ruminants in preserving and revitalizing prairie ecosystems. It's not merely about protecting a static image of nature but understanding and fostering the dynamic relationships that sustain it. The prairies are a testament to the resilience and complexity of life when allowed to interact naturally, even within the framework of sustainable human practices.

It's exhilarating to see how this knowledge aligns with my artistic vision. The conversations I've had and the observations I've made will undoubtedly enrich the narrative and structure of my living sculpture. The prairie seeds are not just components of my work; they symbolize a deeper understanding of ecological balance and the beauty of a thriving ecosystem. They are a source of energy and knowledge, a way to repay the planet.

As I continue this creative process, conversations with friends and experts will remain the cornerstone of my inspiration. In sharing these insights, I hope to foster a broader appreciation for the nuances of prairie conservation and the subtle yet profound ways we can contribute to preserving our natural world.

I leave you with questions that modern society must consider: How can ruminant populations be managed in the absence of predators? What are the consequences of not culling herds? What does the future cycle of life entail?

Living Labyrinth – Echoes of Existence: A Journey Through Nature's Narratives To Redefine The Anthropocene. - Artist statement

Echoes of Existence: A Journey Through Nature's Narratives To Redefine The Anthropocene.

Echoes of Existence is a social sculpture site-specific art installation on the campus of Indiana University. It will reside at Hilltop Gardens in a field of manicured turf grass, creating a stark juxtaposition between a cultivated lawn's carbon footprint and a natural carbon sink. A work of conceptual art that the students of Indiana University will install. It is a living labyrinth, sculpted from the tapestry of Southern Indiana's native plants, embodying the region's rich biodiversity and echoing the inherent beauty of natural systems. In a land that once echoed with the thunderous presence of thousands of bison roaming the prairies.

The materials are modeled as b.bison grazing with a bird on its back, a tribute to the bison's eating and waste habits that have supported North America's ecosystems. The entrance, marked by native limestone inscribed with "What might seem like the endpoint..," challenges our perceptions of beginnings and endings, urging us to shift from modern humanity's linear thinking to a cyclical understanding of our relationship with nature.

 On the journey through this living labyrinth, one is engaged in a walking meditation guided by the rhythm of the winding path. A labyrinth has a fixed path, a deliberate design that allows your mind to wander freely, unburdened by the fear of being lost in a maze. On this path, one is immersed in nature's diverse colors, textures, smells, sounds, and movements, each element enhancing the experience and making every meditative walk unique.

The path culminates at another limestone marker adorned with rudimentary carvings representing the ecosystem's historical biodiversity that reappear when ruminants are reintroduced to the land. The inscription echoes, "What might seem like the endpoint...may also be the beginning." This mantra provokes contemplation on the cyclical nature of existence, where endpoints can transform into starting points. It encourages us to reconsider our landscape policies and redefine the Anthropocene Epoch as the age in which humanity falls in step with natural systems.

 Surrounding this internal limestone marker are four native tree stumps, representing the four stomachs of the ruminant's digestive system. They also serve as seats for reflection to digest how small acts impact extreme climate and biodiversity.

"Echoes of Existence" is a tribute to the enduring spirit of nature and a reminder of our responsibility to care for it. Inspired by wisdom from ancient Greek philosophy, this living labyrinth depicts all life as a complex journey of constant transformation of relationships and the knowledge that what appears to be an endpoint can also be a beginning. It invites participation and engagement in a dialogue with the land embracing life's cyclical relationships. It is not just an invitation to observe but a call to action-to think, to act, to regenerate.

links to other Living Labyrinth blog posts.

Artist in Residency at Indiana University- Living the Dream Installation.

IU- How do you draw a labyrinth?

IU- What kind of Labyrinth should I make? What is my site-specific message?

IU- How do you build a labyrinth from 8’ X10” to 83’ X 54’?

IU- Natural Systems - digestive system.

IU- The labyrinth design - How will it be installed?

IU- Living labyrinth- Building the grid.

Green Tree Frog Eggs

We had the first big spring rain the week before Mother’s Day. That Saturday , I stopped in "Symbiosis" to check out the wildlife and chat with anyone visiting the exhibitions. To my surprise, the pond is now a green tree frog nursery. The trough pond is surrounded by tall native plants that tree frogs love. I have not seen the green tree frogs since last year, I thought I heard them one night few weeks ago. Mother toads and tree frogs have to have water to lay their eggs. I believe tree frogs lay their eggs on limbs where they fall in the water.

Above are a few watercolor monotypes I did of the tree frog.

Symbiosis- Food chain - Mockingbirds and Toads

On an early July morning, with a new camera in my hands, I was hopeful the zoom lens would document unseen details in Symbiosis. I focused the lens on the “feed me” gesture of the juvenile bird. Later zooming in on the image on my computer revealed the middle of the food chain — A Mockingbird feeding a juvenile, not a caterpillar, wasp, or an insect but a slight blurry silhouette of a toad. On my laptop, I witnessed the middle of the food chain, a moment in a living sculpture, evidence of a healthy ecosystem and hope in a sea of asphalt on the Gulf Coast.

In Symbiosis building, a food chain that has not been exposed to chemicals or pesticides is crucial to building a base and armature that supports the more visible kinetic elements — wildlife and humans, the upper food chain. Its strength is critical to the success of the whole.

I use systems thinking to plan and organize my sculptural additions and extractions to the piece. In this case, not using pesticides to control insect pests or unruly vegetation is a priority. The water feature in the garden invites mosquitos, dragonflies, frogs, toads, and aquatic insects to lay their eggs in the still water. The tadpoles, nymphs, and Texas mosquito fish eat the mosquito larvae.

In the work, all of the individual species are linked by the health and abundance of the lower species. “Symbiosis” is an element of the “living” Earth, a community of organisms existing within the Art center's sculpture garden and social sculpture.

That Was Then This is Now.

July 2020 - the sculpture garden as it was when Stephanie and I first discussed the project.

February 2021. After the Texas freeze

May 2022 - 12 months from installation.

I ❤️Aphids and what insects tell us.

I Leave aphids be. It may look alarming but It is a necessary step in regaining a balance of good bugs and bad in "Symbiosis". I am looking forward to see which beneficial insects show up to help the planet manage the aphids. Aphids feed through a needle-like mouthpart. After they insert their mouthpart into a plant's tissue, they then use it like a straw to suck out plant juices. The do not kill the host plant. Aphids aid benefical bugs they are food for thousands of different species of predatory insects. As protein Aphids help build a broad diversity of beneficial bugs in nature.

After writing this post I came across one of the most interesting insect control articles.

“Failing Plant Health

The research conducted by Dr. Callahan and Dr. Reams has immense implications. If insects attack unhealthy plants and ignore healthy plants, they are telling a sad story about the fertility approaches as currently practiced. By attacking unhealthy plants, insects are actually benefiting humanity by pointing out which plants are unhealthy, low in mineral content, and not fit for human or animal use. The astute farmer views insects, as he views weeds, as messengers of soil or crop conditions, not the cause of them.”

We have so much to unlearn.

Symbiosis - dead plants

The February freeze left its mark in the garden. Above ground, the Scarlet salvia, Salvia coccinea, was left in the form of crispy brown twigs and leaves. Below ground, the roots were protected by the moisture and living organisms in the soil. The beauty of a perennial is the roots are weather tough and will sprout new life this spring. 

In our present culture, these dead limbs would be removed from the site immediately. They remove these dead plants when the weather is still harsh, leaving the ground bare the life that lives in and on it vulnerable. In  Symbiosis, these bronze arched stems, and their bi-petaled crumpled leaves are sheltered from downpours, wind, and predators. I leave them. Their leaves and stems may not be a beautiful green, drawing energy from sunlight and water from the earth producing sugar to boost growth and oxygen released into the air. They absorb heat, warm, and protect the ground and living organisms. When March winds come, their seeds fly to new gardens and bare spots ground. When our weather warms, I will chop these dried elements to return to dust. They will become sustenance for bacteria, nematodes, fungi, and earthworms. In life and death, the plants are valuable in landscapes. 

Weed Out

As geologists and environmentalists battle, “are we in the Holocene epoch or have we made our mark on Earth and entered a new geological period, the Anthropocene?”, I ponder weeds. 

The term weed, in the Holocene, is a plant that sticks out in a monoculture. From a bipedal primate’s perspective, a weed isn’t like all the surrounding plants: we undervalue it—because it “looks” different. From a human who spells her name Cindee with two ee’s, I have to say I am attracted to weeds and not just because of the ees. Since my first installation in Symbiosis, on February 14, 2021, I have thought a lot about the word, verb, and the thing weed, asking myself so many questions and finding answers in this urban garden. 

In nature and in Symbiosis, I observe weeds and now see them as Earth’s first responders to large or small ecological disasters. Weeds are seeds, roots, stems, leaves, berries, and blooms—organic matter. Weeds are vegetative volunteers in the ecological services division of Earth; they provide emergency services for its living organisms above and below ground. Hear me out — when the Earth’s green skin is left bare, tilled, stripped, eroded, poisoned, burned, flooded, neglected, or disturbed by natural or human occurrences, Mother Earth cherry-picks from embryos sleeping in the soil her first responders—our weeds-seeds. Like our own“compounded prescriptions,” seeds are biologically programmed for the site’s specific ecological condition—temperature, moisture, and daylight—to grow fast and spread quickly; they are speed healers. As they mature, I see emergency room physicians administering oxygen masks for underground organisms, protective bandages for the Earth’s epidermis, and poison antidotes. Their organic matter lowers the Earth’stemperatures, thereby keeping soil and its living microorganisms alive. And they provide shelter, food, and nectar for the site’s microorganisms, wildlife, and humans. These ecological first responders are full-service providers, slowing rainwater, reducing soil erosion, replenishing the aquifer, cooling the planet, sequestering carbon, and stabilizing it in the ground for those debating geological periods to come.

From a sculptural perspective, if the shape, texture, or color of a volunteer first responder “weed” does not satisfy my artistic vision, I no longer yank it out of the ground in a knee-jerk response. I stop—look—think, why was it sent in? I take a holistic approach. I weigh the service it is providing our above and below ground micro-ecosystem, the armature that supports the life of the sculpture. I then consider what human adjustments I might implement to holistically balance these roles nature’s first responders are providing to achieve my artistic vision, supporting my sculpture. I consider the needs of other species from the bacteria, fungi, nematodes, and insects to the small mammals, birds, and humans whose life work supports my work. I know that the small systems have to be right for the global systems to run smoothly and I see that too much is at risk to resort to pesticides. I create ways that weeds’ delicately shaped blooms can work in my living land art.

From a practical standpoint, weeds are convenient, cost-effective tools in my human-made nature scape, a catalyst for environmental change, Symbiosis. So, while intellectuals debate the ages, I get out of weeds way, pull over to the right and let the weeds do their job. 

In Wikipedia, weed is “of unknown origin.” Ironically, weeds are of unknown origins in most landscapes. So I break down the word weed into three parts.

​We – all of us, me, you and I.

   ee – In the English language, double e’s are a tool to

denote one connected.

     ed – denotes verb, performs an action.

Holocene or Anthropocene? In this age of uncertainty, if humans “weed out” weeding, can all species win the battle? — I wonder…

Additional Weed Readings

WEEDS Control Without Poisons, by Charles Walters.

WHEN WEEDS TALK, by Jay, L. McCaman — includes charts with the functions of each species.

I purchased my copies on Acres USA.

Wood-sorrel exhibits nyctinasty, likely helping the plant conserve energy. It forms a taproot and is upright when young, but as it grows, its long, multibranched stems eventually flop over and trail out along the ground for as much as two feet, extending rootlets from nodes along the stem. This root is beneficial in breaking up the clay. Sorrels contain oxalates, a naturally occurring molecules that bind with calcium. If your soil needs calcium, keep the wood-sorrel.

Youngia japonica a member of the aster family and related to the dandelions. Dandelions Taraxacum officinale shows up when soil is low in calcium and compacted. The local bees, butterflies, birds, and I enjoy the blooms while the dandelion roots break up the clay. Their leaves are loaded with antioxidants and used by herbalists for many health issues.

I believe the above plant to be Cudweed. Cudweed is host for the American painted lady butterfly.

Why we shouldn’t rag on ragweed? The seeds of ragweed are rich in fatty oils. Fats are not only Ebut also is for fattening up birds and small mammals such as Eastern Cottontail, Meadow Vole, grasshoppers which eat the leaves, Dark-eyed Junco, Brown-headed Cowbird, Northern Bobwhite, Purple Finch, Mourning Dove, American Goldfinch, and the Red-bellied Woodpeckers to get them through the lean winter months.

It is an ancient grain for humans and ragweed is a valuable food source for the caterpillars of many butterflies and moths including the striking wavy-lined emerald and the uniquely adapted bird dropping moths. The seeds of ragweed are rich in fatty oils. Birds and small mammals readily consume ragweed seeds to help fatten up for the lean months to come.

I will use this post to document my experiences with weeds.

Carbon by the Yard - a weekly update

Carbon by the Yard

Zoysia Turfgrass relief

35' X 48'

Embedded within the installation Symbiosis, Carbon by the Yard is a temporary, living sculpture in the shape of the Carbon element symbol, C. The work consists of carving a 16 x 14-foot shape into the existing grass, and allowing the Zoysia grass to grow tall around it. A simple gesture, the letter brings attention to the role lawn-grass plays in climate change. In 2020, the Environmental Protection Agency estimated that grass uses up about a third of all public water: in the US, this translates to 9 billion gallons of water every day. Our mowers consume 200 million gallons of gas.  The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency estimates that, gas-powered lawn mowers produce 11 times as much pollution as a new car hour for hour. And, manicured lawns provide no livable habitats for pollinators or the other plants and animals necessary to maintain a healthy ecosystem. With Carbon by the Yard, artist-environmentalist Cindee Klement brings attention to the ways in which our daily decisions can help to reduce our carbon footprints. 

Reducing nitrate leaching losses from turfgrass fertilization of residential lawns

The sketch for Lawndale approval

September 23, 2021

I sketched the C into the space with flags. Moving and adjusting them until I had the shape C right and in the right place.

Next I marked the C with a water base paint used to mark fields.

The C marked in water based paint.

October24th- The first cutting.

The yard maintenance company used their regular mower. The CO2, cost, time, and noise pollution of the gass lawn mower was not worth the result.

I was afraid that the following week the lawn maintenance company would not be able to see the relief enough to remow it. I remarked the C with the flags.

The second cutting was rained out.

I will update this blog post through out the process.

October 8th - week three cutting #2

October 18th - Week 4 cutting #3

October 22 - week 5 cutting #4

After 4 cuttings the C is now beginning srand out.

November 1- week 6 cutting #5

November 7- week #7cutting #6

November 12th, week #8 cutting #7

November 19th, week #9 cutting #8

November 26th, week #10 cutting #9

December 3rd, week #11 cutting #10

December 24th, week #14 cutting #13

January 9, week #16 cutting #15

March 30 - this would have been week 29……. Unfortunately, it is not.

I noticed the grass was growing exceptionally slow. Long story short Lawndale’s lawn maintenance company was mowing on a high setting.

I am starting over on counting weeks of emissions saved.

April 10th, week 1, not cutting the yard #1

Spring 2022

August 2022

Symbiosis - extraction from a different view

Passiflora incarnata is a boisterous Texas native vine. I placed it at the entrance for a few reasons, to grow across the gate to soften the concrete patio. The patio concrete will help contain Passiflora from self-propagating itself. It is a host for the passion butterfly larvae that will greet the art patrons. Without any chemicals in the garden the caterpillars exceled at digesting the passiflora incarnate leaves. Chewed to the stems adds an element of excitement to the composition. There is an additional beauty of knowing the life it has hosted.

Passiflora incarnata with extraction from a seasons worth of Gulf fritillary caterpillars

Detail

Not a leaf left. I will miss walking up to the gate and startling the resting Gulf Fritillary butterflies, causing them to flutter in and out of the welded wire fence circling me as I enter.

Symbiosis- art activism

Can art activate change? It has in the past and global communication is easier than ever. I received the below email from Chris Mc Fraughton of Take Two environmental. :)

Chris was trained at Elain Ingram’s the Soil Food Web. He knows what he is doing.

Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus

Today‘s progress may not look like much, however I worked 7 hours. I was focused on filling the tiny spaces in the groin, inside its flanks and rear end. And I was careful not to catch my skin on the sharp edges of the late. It is razor-sharp and requires careful deliberate moves.

Symbiosis — The Symmetry of Weeds, Ecosystem Services and Art Activism

In June the Lawndale Art Center opened the Big Show. I was very fortunate that nature was cooperating and Symbiosis was vibrant with both plants, pollinators and insects. The skies were full of dragonflies of every color, there was not a mosquito in sight. The bee balm was a bee crowd-pleaser and the passionflower was crawling in caterpillars. It felt good.

For approximately two weeks after Houston received large amounts of rainfall. Rain or shine I still went every day to observe the landscape, look for signs of new urban wildlife and learn from the work. I saw that a living sculpture is a moving target. During this time period, plenty of volunteer plants appeared, covering the spots of bare earth as nature knows is best. I diligently photographed the volunteer plants and researched them through my National Geographic citizen naturalist iNaturalist app. If they supported wildlife and they were in a location that they were not distracting I left them. If they were visually obtrusive or blocking another plant's growth or light. I pulled them. I winced with each pull, my instinct in regards to healthy soil and natural solutions was to leave them, they are sequestering carbon, any disturbance of soil releases carbon. Weeds have a role in the ecosystem: they establish quickly, protect exposed soil, provide habitat for beneficial organisms. Weeds are a natural response to heal disturbed earth. From an environmental point of view, they are a benefit to the landscape. From an artist's point of view, I love the weeds. They add a variety of line, an unexpected pop of color, movement, rhythm and a variety of patterns. As a sculptor interested in ways I can incorporate time snd movement in my work, I am a fan of weeds they are a design tool.

That said as an earth conservation art activist the purpose of the work is to inspire others to use native plants in urban landscapes. If the weeds turn people off before they learn about the work, the piece as art activism is a failure. Finding the balance, the symmetry with weeds continues to weigh heavily on my mind. I remind myself of the bigger picture—activate change, create a micro-ecosystem that others will be inspired to imitate. I know change can happen at lightning speed when innovation is coupled with imitation.

Phytolacca americana, also known as American pokeweed,

Detail of Phytolacca americana, American pokeweed,

Sesbania is a genus of flowering plants in the pea family, Fabaceae, and the only genus found in the tribe Sesbanieae. Riverhemp
a nitrogen fixer

“Nitrogen is the element responsible for lush green plant growth, but plants aren't actually able to use the nitrogen gas in Earth's atmosphere. Certain plant species, though, harbor bacteria in their roots that convert nitrogen from the atmosphere into a form that plants can absorb.“ learn more here.

Aesthetically as an artist this quiet corner of graceful movement is inspiring. The repeated surfboard shaped leaves delicately attached to the slender stem create a stunning rhythm and repeated pattern.

Jacquemontia tamnifolia Hairy cluster vine - insanely cool bloom, complex in its texture, shape, and color palett.

As stunning as this complicated vine’s bloom is I could not find anything about it it online, except it is capable of surviving fires. It does have the physical characteristics that attract bees, blue petals, and exposed stamen. I will take the risk and keep it. With any luck it will support at least one of pollinator species that we do not yet know we have lost. To return what we do not know we have lost is what inspires me to do this work.

I came across an invasive species, Fatoua villosa Hairy Crabweed. see future Symbiosis post

Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus

Ferlocks, hocks and nape

Right front leg chap and starting to build the neck muscles. The neck muscles are massive.

I build the legs on separate days. Left keg the hock curves up and right keg the Hock curves down. I still need fetlocks. I think bison have two per foot. More research

Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus

Todays work- His right back haunch and leg.

Symbiosis- the tools of my collaborators

In creating a living sculpture, I have to accept change. I can not control the piece nor do I want to. From soil microbes to leaves, petals and butterflies, bees, skippers and caterpillars, I am always looking to the natural processes. I look to see what does the material want to make, what does it need to be. Competition, succession, disturbance, consumption are the sculpting tools of my collaborator, characteristics of the work. I have to let them follow their path to self-design their regenerating community. I bend my creative processes to the design principles developed through the ages on this planet for this place and time. The time is right to change how we landscape. I believe Houston is the right place and Houstonians the right people to plant the seeds.

Competition

Succession

Disturbance

Consumption

Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus

Front legs and right shoulder

Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus

20’ more of rebar.

I used 20’ more of rebar today to build the hip bones up on both sides and his right side in the stomach area of his side. I worked from the hip to his shoulder.

My work space is not large enough to get a good side photo.

Root to Water- when science backs your art -Art that looks at science with a critical eye.

"It is clear that the past offers a vast repertoire of cultural knowledge that we cannot ignore," highlights Professor Boivin.

It is a different way to think of things; however they are on the right root. I have a feeling there will be more areas Root to Water intersects science.

ROOT TO WATER

12” X 18” X 12”

found objects: rusted steel irrigation wheel, root

photo by Nash Bake

Turning back the evolutionary clock evolution in urban neighborhoods

4" X 13" X 8"

bronze

photo by Nash Baker

The sidewalks in my neighborhood are my nature trail. I walk with my eyes on the prowl for intriguing insects, exoskeletons, insect wings, feathers, dried flowers, twigs, leaves, seeds, and pods — things my children’s eyes taught me to find during our walks together over the years. Since 2013, these biological mementos have found their way into my bronze work in the molds of nests. Each piece is a reflection of that year’s ecology and records the time and movement of environmental restoration.

Initially, I was unaware of the landscape around me, but as my art dove deeper into environmental restoration and Hurricane Harvey changed our city, I realized that my days are, in fact, full of sterile surfaces. With COVID-19 quarantine, children in my neighborhood started venturing outside and looking for things to capture their curiosity. Delighted with their new interest, I realized that the green spaces and puddles children explore now are no longer filled with a diversity of life; the box turtles, bullfrogs, tadpoles, bumblebees, and assortments of flitting insects have evaporated with the spray of insecticides and herbicides in our neighborhoods. The selection is reduced to cicadas, the common beetle, honeybees, a rare native bee, and an abundance of Cuban lizards that dwell in turf grasses, boxwoods, crepe myrtles and oaks. I have awakened to cultural landscape uniformity. COVID has changed how I see the need for perfect lawns; the dirty truth is mosquito home-misting machines, obsessive weed control, artificial turf and a lack of plant diversity have turned urban neighborhoods into manicured monocultures for humans exploring video games. These habitat changes in massive population centers are fast-forwarding evolution: loss of wildlife habitat is one of the biggest threats facing many animal species. This does not have to be—it is a societal choice, the ability to speed up evolution can go both ways. Through my works – Lawndale’s Symbiosis, Endangered Knowledge: The Soul of Humus, Gust, World of Hum, Rumblings and Root to Water—I am committed to creating work that educates and helps communities change how we landscape our cities to include valuing the natural world and turning back evolution.

In Dirt to Soil, Gabe Brown quotes Don Campbell, “If you want to make small changes, change how you do things, if you want to make big changes change how you see.” When I come across intriguing flora or fauna on my urban trail, albeit few and far between, I see them as evidence that can inspire a revolution in the landscape. If they are expired and will not decompose, I collect them. I see these bronze cast nests as urban wildlife fossils—biographies, every year a chapter recording Houston's environmental awakening. As an optimist—environmental—art—activist my work focuses on revealing endangered knowledge to change how we see urban landscapes and activate cooling the planet through our cityscapes. As migratory birds return year after year to build nests and raise their young, I return with optimism in my step. I envision witnessing the return of four hundred plus butterfly species and eight hundred bee species native to Texas. I can see this returned wildlife capturing my future grandkids' imaginations. I will tell them the story of how insects almost disappeared and how every yard is a micro-ecosystem and matters. I imagine their hands building nests with a diversity that I cannot imagine. I hear their voices telling me in one breath about the fuzziest-biggest bee they ever saw, covered in golden dust nesting in a patch of ground beneath the sunflowers not far from the silverleaf nightshade. I see them bringing me a tail-feather from a Red Shoulder Hawk and asking, "what does it hunt" and is it the bird that sounds like the squirrel's screech. After a rain, I see them finding two bullfrogs attached and their tiny ribbons of floating eggs in a pond. I hear them tell me not to touch the caterpillar of the southern flannel moth, and asking me, “how does it sting?”. At the low of evening when dragonflies hover; I will watch as they study the night heron’s quiet solitary stance as it stalks small citizens of the grass, I will smile as they question the raucous warnings of ravens and the scoldings of nut collecting squirrels. I will feel their excitement when neighborhood raccoons appear from storm sewers and scavenge treats from dog bowls and opossums waddle fence lines, searching out grubs and open garage doors. I will follow their eyes when the silent patrol of the lone coyote visits the shadows of our boulevards from their bayou bound dens. I let them sleep outside and hear their heavy eyelids ask, why do the owls ask who? I listen as they wake up to a concert of white-winged doves. I will feel peace when they are wise to nature.