Growing in the Wind

Jun 9, 2021

By Christian Begeman

The last few years I’ve found myself in knee deep grasses, spongy fens and alongside muddy sloughs more times than I can count. Why? Well, photography would be the easy answer, but in reality, the reason is more nuanced than simply getting an interesting photo.

First of all, you should know this about me: I’m a bit stubborn. Don’t believe me? Just ask my mom. I have learned this stubborn streak has an interesting way of working itself out in regard to my photography. It takes me a while to get interested in something. I mean really interested. But once I’m hooked, I’m a goner. Put another way, I’m initially reluctant (stubborn) to take on a new interest, but after a while I realize the interest that has caught my attention is what I’ve been searching for all along. This has happened to me in regard to country churches, spring birding and now botany (wildflower photography in particular).

Three Junes ago, I remember sitting in the middle of tall, green grass that swayed and flexed on a warm wind at Oakwood Lakes State Park in Brookings County. I was surrounded by blooming meadow anemones, blue damselflies and flitting orange skipperlings. I had my camera, but just sitting there quietly under the warm, early summer sun watching a little bit of nature just be, just wonderfully exist, was a revelation.

Three years later, you’ll find me wandering a Nature Conservancy prairie preserve, national park or state park nearly any time I can in the warmer months. I’ve heard folks say that being in nature is their “church.” I understand that sentiment, but it is something different for me. My time in nature is a respite, a reminder and a teacher. I find relief from the daily grind, and I’m reminded of the intricate creativity and knowledge of the Creator. As for the teaching, let me try to explain.

As a photographer who enjoys macro photography, I have learned the importance of getting down to a wildflower’s level to look a butterfly in the eye. In order to obtain clear and crisp focus as well as the best composition, I’ve learned to wait out the wind, to pause under cloud cover and make the most of sunshine. I’ve learned to look behind and above, even though I’m focusing on what is right in front. I’ve learned to take my time and not be in a hurry. I’ve learned that our prairies consist of far more than grass.

Up until the last few years, I had no idea that both our tallgrass and shortgrass prairies harbor so much diversity. It is something we South Dakotans are taught from an early age, but it wasn’t until I looked long and walked slow upon the grasslands that the truth really sunk in. Growing up West River, it wasn’t hard to find pastures never put under the plow, but on the east side of the state, the remnant tallgrass prairies are a lot harder to find. Thankfully they still exist in places. I’m grateful to those who’ve strived to maintain the tallgrass prairie and all its intricate glory. They are not only lovely places to wander with a camera, but also places to learn and grow.

Christian Begeman grew up in Isabel and now lives in Sioux Falls. When he's not working at Midco he is often on the road photographing South Dakota’s prettiest spots. Follow Begeman on his blog.