Pasque Flower

I grew up on the prairie, ten years of my childhood.
It is a long way from characterless; "overpowering" would be a better word.  The horizon a dozen miles away is as clean a line as the nearest fence.  Across the immense sky move navies of cumuli, fair-weather clouds, their bottoms as even as if they had scraped themselves against the earth.  These prairies are quiescent, close to static; looked at for any length of time, they begin to impose their awful perfection on the observer's mind.  - Wallace Stegner, Wolf Willow

Every year, on the prairie, the Pasque flowers were the harbinger of spring.  A promise of growth, blossom and beauty.  Rest for the weary eye after the stark, bleak prairie winter.