Storm clouds brewing in Jackson County.

A lone fencepost with lush green, rolling prairies in Jackson County.

Flowering Missouri foxtail cactus at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands.

A gumbo lily, or gumbo evening primrose, at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands.

Pollen on the lily’s petal.

Prairie turnip in bloom at Buffalo Gap National Grasslands.

Western wallflower in bloom in the Sage Creek Wilderness of the Badlands.

Double rainbow over the yellow mound area of Badlands National Park.

Rainbow close-up at Badlands National Park.

Sandhill crane with chicks in the Coteau des Prairies of Grant County.

Blanket flower bloom in Grant County.

Prairie smoke blooms in Deuel County.

Sleepy nighthawk in Grant County.

First light after the rain on the Belle Fourche River breaks of Meade County.

Looking east over an old hay rig in eastern Pennington County after a rain.

Looking west from the same location, a lone pronghorn was silhouetted against the evening sky.

Minutes later the same hay rig with a small rainbow.

Wild flax flower among the sage found at the Slim Buttes of Harding County.

Buffalo calf at Custer State Park.

Prairie larkspur in bloom at Custer State Park.

Eastern tiger swallowtail on a wallflower along the wildflower trail in Custer State Park.

A thunderhead builds over a pronghorn at Wind Cave National Park.

American bison with a distant rainstorm at Wind Cave National Park.

An evening double rainbow near St. Onge.

West River Green

Jul 5, 2023

By Christian Begeman

The mixed grass prairies of western South Dakota can seldom be described as vibrant. In my experience, the extended verdant green I’ve seen West River this growing season typically only lasts a month. Some years the lush prairie views do not appear at all.

I was between 7 and 8 years old when one of most brutal droughts since the Dirty Thirties took place in Ziebach and Dewey counties. Rain was on everyone’s mind. Prayer meetings at church and conversation at the cafe all centered around the need for moisture. The grasshoppers were so bad they decimated the leaves and bark of our decorative shrubbery in front of the house and caused driving hazards on Highway 65 down by the Moreau River. The old timers commented that at least they didn’t consume the wood fence posts like they’d seen in the 1930s, but that was small consolation to a 7-year-old. At least we didn’t have to push the lawn mower all that much. The only thing that made our lawn green was kosher weed near the water hydrant and garden where the water hose had gone. That was the year I learned how to long for and love rain on the prairie. Thankfully that particular dry stretch did not last long.

In May of 1982, we had nearly two weeks of slow and soaking rains. It was the first time I’d really noticed how green the prairie could get. As I grew older and began to take on more duties, like haying and summer fallowing, rainstorms became double boons. Anything over 10 hundredths would get me out of the field for a brief break and allow for a little goofing off — until Dad realized I could be out fencing instead.

The spring of 2023 has brought good rains to western South Dakota so far. I spent the week after Memorial Day chasing photos in the Badlands and Black Hills as per my usual habit. For four afternoons in a row, rain clouds built in the distance, then burst forth over the Hills, bringing rain, then leaving evening rainbows as a final sign of their passing. From those rain-soaked days in 1982 until now, I’ve always thought the first light after rain on the prairie is the prettiest light on earth. To be able to witness that kind of light on consecutive nights, plus rainbows, was a triple blessing for a wandering photographer on a week-long break from the rat race.

Recently I came across a poem by Badger Clark called “The Rains” that describes the feeling:

But last across the sky-line comes a thing that's strange and new,

A little cloud of saddle blanket size.

It blackens 'long the mountains and bulges up the blue

And shuts the weary sun-glare from our eyes.

Then the lightnin's gash the heavens and the thunder jars the world

And the gray of fallin' water wraps the plains,

And 'cross the burnin' ranges, down the wind, the word is whirled:

"Here's another year of livin', and the Rains!"

You've seen your fat fields ripplin' with the treasure that they hoard;

Have you seen a mountain stretch and rub its eyes?

Or bare hills lift their streamin' faces up and thank the Lord,

Fairly tremblin' with their gladness and surprise?

Have you heard the 'royos singin' and the new breeze hummin' gay,

As the greenin' ranges shed their dusty stains—

Just a whole dead world sprung back to life and laughin' in a day!

Did you ever see the comin' of the Rains?

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.