One of my favorite spring wildflowers is the trout lilly. They grow in vast groups through the woods surrounding my pond, tiny armies marching their way beneath trees, around rocks, and through shrubby undergrowth. Every spring I get so excited when their little leaves first sprout up, and wait eagerly for that short window of time when the elegant, sunny blooms put on their show.
I enjoy keeping track of their progress. They seem to make great strides in size and range around the pond, increasing their numbers every year. I’m not sure how, exactly. They don’t seem substantial at all. Being so tiny and delicate, with such a short flowering season, it amazes me that they are so tenacious. But spread they do, and pretty successfully.
This was a great year for them. Lots of little yellow heads floated, nodding, above their speckled leaves. They like to stick to the damp, dappled shade, which suits their display, making them glow. It doesn’t necessarily suit me, having to crawl along the ground to take their pictures. But I do. And I have to be quick, because before I know it they will have disappeared, gone back to sleep again until next year. Which makes it all the more special to catch them in the act.
I've never really liked labels: I am this, I am that... But in the interest of introducing myself to the world, I can say that I am many things: nurse, writer, photographer, poet, painter, gardener, friend, armchair philosopher, counselor, nature lover, real-estate aficionado, movie buff, sometime yogi, and aspiring world-traveler. I think that's a pretty good list... for now. I want to become a bigger part of the vital, creative force I feel deeply at work in the world and connect with other people who want to do the same.