From the Boots in the Basin Section Editor:
One of six kids, my childhood was spent on a farm in northern Ohio. As second to youngest, my only standing chore was to be my little sister’s guardian companion. My stepmother’s parenting centered on the expletive-riddled command to vacate the house and not return until dark. Accordingly, outdoor exploration and discovery became our mandate. The animals sharing our rural home warranted caution: huge cattle chewed their cud, chickens announced fresh eggs, gabbling ducks and hissing geese roamed free, feral cats bore serial litters of kittens in the hayloft, and a serious boxer named Duchess stood guard duty. We were surrounded by opportunities for adventure: acres of corn, several gardens, a small apple orchard that provided climbing lessons and a coveted nearby hangout, and an expansive yard full of mature trees and shrubs that gave supreme cover for hours of hide-and-seek. In the total absence of familial affection from parents or siblings, I found love in nature. Confining us to the outdoors day after day was a gift I have come to cherish.
Navigating past the mooing cows, climbing over and through fences, we ran noisily through towering rows of dusty sharp-leafed corn, across the cowpie minefield of open pasture, down the brushy slope, aiming for the creek that bordered the farm. Once there, we’d imagine ourselves transported to another realm. Deadfall cottonwood trees became rocketships my brothers would claim, name, climb aboard and ride to another galaxy. The burbling creek waters always drew my attention: I couldn’t get enough of the bugs, the stones and mud, the branching flow, plants that grew in the water! I’d fearfully watch as my brothers rode the long-roped tire swing high out over the creek in graceful arcs. Each winter we learned to ice skate on the broken creek path. My farm-based memories could fill volumes.
That so many children today are growing up with no connection to nature breaks my heart. For three decades as a classroom elementary school Teaching Artist, I grounded most lessons in environmental science. My students learned how to observe through their senses — how to study, record, and appreciate the natural world around them. It is my fervent hope that they have grown into earth stewards, adults who live with — not in spite of — wild nature.
If you have any young people in your life, please make time to explore, together, the flora and fauna of this place we call home. It’s never too late to learn how to care.
— Jenny Rieke
Kelsey K.
Bill Barlow
Max Nelson
Jason Fidorra
Volunteer voices
Listen to environmentally-focused volunteers in the Columbia Basin.
Mikki Symonds
About 22 years ago, following an early morning run along the Yakima River where I was introduced to air redolent with the novel and relaxing aroma of sage, I decided that I could live here. I grew up in suburban San Antonio, Texas, and never camped or hiked, although I enjoyed walking under (and felt connected to) the live oaks since very early childhood. I enjoyed hiking and camping on Washington’s west side until our youngest became interested in the shrub steppe ecosystem, and during COVID, we hiked a lot over here. Joining the Columbia Basin chapter of Washington Native Plant Society (CBWNPS) led our family to learn about this precious land, its beauty, and its fragility.
We volunteered for sage plantings and weed removals, attended meetings, plant walks, and even plant conferences. Every engagement deepened our appreciation for the shrub steppe, and we enjoyed being around native plant enthusiasts. We ended up planting our own Heritage Garden and, with permission, a neglected school district site.
Four years on, I now chair the CBWNPS Education Committee and am coordinator of the Washington Native Plant Society’s YEER Program (Youth Education through Ecological Restoration) at Ray Reynolds Middle School and Paterson [Elementary] School. Through this position, I have met many impressive persons, including CBWNPS members, Tapteal Greenway members, and a few individuals who are passionate about participating in a healthy way with the shrub steppe.
David Cohoe
“It’s more than the beauty, though. We are part of this natural system whether we recognize it or not; we rely on clean air and water, and those things are not easily repaired, once damaged. Our natural systems give us warnings that we ignore at our peril.”
David Cohoe, Pasco resident and devoted grandfather, grew up in Eastern Oregon among juniper, sagebrush, and riparian streambanks. “I’m not sure I really appreciated the beauty and ecological complexity of the region until I returned to the region after a military career,” admitted David. “After attending the WSU Washington State Naturalist program, I’ve come to a better understanding of the complexities of our connected natural world. I’ve grown to appreciate the subtle — and often hidden — beauty of the sagebrush steppe.
As part of my appreciation, I’ve started native plantings in my yard and garden, with the assistance of the Heritage Garden Program. I’ve volunteered with native planting efforts in Leslie Groves Park and near Ray Reynolds Middle School. I’m interested in preserving more of this fragile ecosystem before development bulldozes it. I want to preserve this beauty so future generations can appreciate it.”
—Mickie Chamness
“I am amazed that there is such a broad range of plants and animals, that they can be so beautiful and survive in such harsh conditions of 7 inches of precipitation, extreme heat and cold. Shrub steppe has an intriguing diversity of plants and animals.”
Mickie Chamness, having worked on the Hanford site as a geologist, joined CBWNPS in 1996 and is now their Publicity Chair. She has over two decades of involvement with stewarding the shrub steppe. While walking around a variety of habitats, she started to wonder about the different plants that she was seeing, and thus joined the organization. Volunteering with the Native Plant Society since the early 2000s, Mickie connected with people she liked and an organization worth helping. She has taken on many leadership roles over the years.
“I really like learning. It is kind of boring to walk around and not know what I am looking at. Because the shrub steppe is underappreciated, it’s possible to escape the crowds — not on Badger Mountain, but there are lots of places off the beaten path.”
Mickie also participates in the Rare Care Program through the Washington Department of Natural Resources. Citizen scientists look for plants known to be in certain locales, check on their status, and provide data. This opportunity provides various land managers with information they need to understand how they need to adjust their management plans.
Marilyn Lemar
“Our shrub steppe is one of the most fragile and fastest disappearing ecosystems. It has precious life found nowhere else, and a quiet beauty. What we care for cares for us. This land is our water, our air, our nourishment, our beauty to experience and to care for. We always impact where we live, as it impacts us. Undertaking a conscious relationship with our land moves us from heedless impact to more mindful choices, from merely running around to agency.”
Marilyn Lemar is a CBWNPS & YEER volunteer.
