July 2026 • Nebraskaland 35
Last Day
The last day of the project was an
emotional one. As the evening sun
sank toward the trees, I searched for
anything I could find and photograph
before the light disappeared. An ant
was patrolling the small sunflowers,
maybe checking to see if they'd
started producing extrafloral nectar
yet. I found a few sedges that had
started to flower and photographed
their delicate, dangling anthers.
One of the last photos I took before
the sun disappeared was of a small
lynx spider perched at the top of some
Kentucky bluegrass flowers. She was
about the right size to have been one
of the tiny spiderlings I'd seen hatch
out the previous fall, but I'll never
know for sure if she was. Regardless,
I wished her well and thanked her
for hanging out with me, using her
as a proxy for all the other amazing
organisms I'd met and marveled at
during the past year.
Finally, I packed up my camera
gear, swung my pack onto my back,
and walked slowly down the mowed
trail to my truck, reflecting on the
c o m p l e t i o n o f my s e c o n d ye a r-
long joyful obsession. I glanced
back at the plot as I left, knowing
I'd probably never spend another
morning or evening lying in that
particular patch of grass. After all, I
was done with the project. It would
just be silly to do it again.
N
I'd like to think this small female lynx spider
was one of those that hatched from the egg
sac in the plot the previous fall and that,
after surviving the winter, was ready to live
a successful life of her own in "my" square
meter of prairie.
