When Wildflowers Bloom

Nothing is quite as special or as fleeting as the spring wildflower blooms on our homestead. Unlike so many other seasonal rhythms this one wears its finite nature proudly on its sleeve. The flowers come once a year and are here and gone in about ten days. Despite this, I find them no less glorious than the leaves of autumn, the garden’s bounty, or the majesty of a particular landscape. In our neck of the woods, this past week was what we like to call “wildflower week”. 

Trillium

My husband and I are not wildflower experts, but we'd certainly qualify as avid admirers. I wasn't actively aware of wildflowers before I moved to Kentucky five years ago. That first year, my family attended the annual Wildflower Walk at nearby Mammoth Cave National Park. Being a nature-lover and somewhat of a nerd, I really enjoyed training my eye to see and identify some of the local flora. Weldon, too, loves these seasonal inhabitants and took me on a private tour of our local woods during that first spring of our courtship. Since then, we've made it a point to pause long enough to walk through the wildflowers each year. Usually, he’s the first to sound the alarm that wildflower week is here. I look forward to these treks like an annual reunion. I’m not sure the blooms care much about me, but I’m sure glad to see them!  

Larkspur

The funny thing about wildflowers is that their appeal is more of an acquired taste than an obvious enticement. They don’t compare to their cultivated cousins when it comes to scent, bloom size or longevity. However, it's my sense that their beauty is apparent in subtle ways that are no less valuable: the intricacy of their petals as with Larkspur or Dutchman’s Britches; their muted elegance as with the family of Trillium; or their vast colonies like the sea of bluebells that floods my in-laws’ creek bottom. For many admirers, including myself, the fact that they are WILD – not sold in greenhouses or yielding to man’s cultivating regimen – is part of the allure. I like the fact that my existence has little bearing on them, other than the necessity for me to be mindful of their environment.

Bluebells

Last but certainly not least, one of the main reasons I’m drawn to the wildflowers in spring is simply because of their ephemeral nature. Their allotted time is so short that it seems they could whisper, “Catch…me…while…you…can,” with each passing bloom. I've come to accept that I can’t lengthen their bloom time, plant them in any better a location than they are, alter the dates in which they appear or disappear, pick them or eat them. I can’t even get my camera to capture them with any sense of justice! That doesn’t make them good for nothing (even though in the traditional sense they are). I like to think of spring’s flush of wildflowers as a little gift Mother Nature gives to herself: my only option is to appreciate the moment while she unwraps it. And that’s more than good enough for me.   

A Handy Field Guide: For our area, The Wildflowers of Mammoth Cave National Park by Randy Seymour is a wonderful book (full of color photos) to help the novice or expert explorer on their way. Books like these exist for many different regions in the United States. I’d highly recommend them for anyone remotely interested in an informed wildflower walk.