When I checked the five pots, is spotted two tiny green shoots. I set the pots in a sunny southern corner of the house. I didn’t follow the instructions (“plant Indian grass seeds from May to June in temperatures around 50 degrees Fahrenheit.”). I put the seeds in October thinking that over the winter they would soften and sprout early. These two little shoots may have defied the natural life cycle of Indian Grass.

The seeds came from the Hempstead Plains, a 19 acre county preserve on the Nassau County Community College campus. I have the distinct honor of being the poet in residence. I spend time there looking for new ideas for poems.

The preserve is all that’s left of 60,000 acres, all paved over. Since I like to root for the underdog, the site fulfills this nicely. It is overrun by nonnative invasive aliens that are so aggressive that they displace the natives. Indian Grass fascinates me because it is tall 5-7 feet tall. I also ponder the name “Indian.” Was this common name given because Native people used it? No matter that the reason, I am charmed by the name.

The only grasses I know that fit this category are corn, tall reed grass and bamboo. Historical accounts mention that the original plains had thousands of acres of this grass. Today, there are clumps of Indian grass on the site. Seeds are collected by volunteers and planted. My dream is that eventually, the current remnant will approximate the plains of 150 years ago when a horseback rider had the tops of Indian Grass to the top of the saddle.

Those two little delicate spikes in pots are under my watchful eye. In a sense, I have physical contact with the plains in those two pots. Most of the growth will be root growth. Indian grass, like most grass is a perennial. Indian grass is largely responsible for preventing trees and shrubs from growing. This is because their root system is so dense that the soil isn’t friable enough to allow seeds from beyond the edges of the plains to take hold. Today, it’s different story. The sod was plowed, breaking up the dense root systems of grasses which allowed seeds to flourish.

The seed packet I bought is a fundraiser for the Friends of the Hempstead Plains. In the fall, volunteers strip the seeds of feathery stalks, put them into paper bags and store them to plant next year. The information on the packet goes like this:

“Slender blue-green leaves emerge in spring, followed by golden yellow and orange flowers on top of single stems in August and September.”

The title of one of the poems I wrote is GO ON; GO ON. It is the story of a boy who is lost in the plains. The Indian grass above his head and he loses his orientation at the crossroads. He asks directions from various people he meets who point and tell him to “go on.”

A poetry program titled POETRY OF GRASS is held at the Research and information center on the plains. The intention of the program is to stimulate participants to become inspired while visiting this very important, rare preserve. Although the site is bordered by car noise of Meadowbrook Parkway, this circumstance cannot be avoided.

A huge program is underway to remove the non native species and bring the area back to what it once was. This a long-range project that will take decades. As a volunteer, I have mixed feelings while working. Surrounded by alien species, I’ll work on one small spot while being discouraged by what has yet to be done. Only the sight of other volunteers gives me hope that I am making a difference.