In between was a fence, and the Spirit wind got hung up on it. This fierce settler religion divided and divided. However, I have an affinity for prairie religion. It's my Mennonite heritage. I grew up suffused with the smell and taste of it in my Mennonite Brethren childhood.
Prairie religion is the dry trace of wind-blown dust on a wooden pew.
It is the smell of sweet grass in a sun-baked graveyard at morning. Prairie religion is the taste of baked bean casseroles and apple pie eaten after church underneath the shaking leaves of a cottonwood, while sitting on your napkin to keep it from blowing away. Church on the prairies smelled and tasted like that. When I was a child, I lived some years out on the eastern prairies of Colorado. There was room for anything.