One of the charms of living on 38 wooded acres is the wide-eyed reaction of a 7- and a 5-year-old to their first identifying of the land’s many wildflowers.
Photo Above: Sam and Eli pause in their spring wildflower searches for a break on their favorite sitting log. © Bruce Ingram.
Future historians will record that the COVID pandemic began in March of 2020 and likely further note that not much good came from the virus. But in these mountains, even during the darkest times, joys can arise if we take the time to search for them. So what I will choose to remember most from that time period is that’s when I introduced my grandsons to the beauty and wonders of our native spring wildflowers. The springs that have come since have only increased our appreciation for what we discovered then and continue to learn more about.
Sam and Eli were ages 7 and 5 when COVID began, and many days when they were through with theirschool’s virtual learning and I finished teaching my high school students online, we would head for the creek hollow below our respective houses on 38 wooded acres in the Virginia mountains. Often we walked the nearly mile-long trail that winds around the property’s perimeter, the the focal point of which is a spur that meanders down to Catawba Creek and the two springs that trickle into it.
Come spring, a rhythm exists to the coming and blooming of wildflowers, and on many days the three of us witnessed it. Field guides in hand, we would stop to identify the flowers that had just emerged from the dark brown loam that so characterizes bottomland soil in our region.
The first flower we discovered was the early-blooming bloodroot with its daisy-like white petals and their buttery-yellow center. I also pointed out to the boys the bees and other pollen-seeking creatures that take advantage of this wildflower. After all, it was their first chance to visit a blooming flower in many months.
While the bloodroots were sending forth their charms, the three elliptical leaves of white trillium began to poke forth through the creek bottom duff. I told my grandsons that I would pay them a quarter each if they could figure out the name of the wildflower that would soon adorn those leaves. I’ll never forget the day they first glimpsed—and identified—the trilliums which had turned our hollow into a sea of white flowers.
As enchanting as the white trilliums were, our favorite spring wildflower became the Virginia bluebell. The grandsons and I first encountered bluebells one afternoon when we hiked down to the springs to gather watercress for dinner. What had been a relatively barren bank a few days before was bursting with color and vitality. Really, who wouldn’t be enchanted by the lavender-blue, bell-shaped blooms that this wildflower flaunts.
As that spring progressed, the three of us came to know a series of other wildflowers: buttercups, dog lilies, hoary puccoons, fire pink, wild blue phlox and a host of others. The boys even established a “sitting rock” where they could view our entire hollow and what also became a must-stop every excursion. Behind our houses and out in nature, we felt safe from the virus, and my grandsons first began to understand the tonic, blessings and beauty of nature and of living in these mountains.
The story above first appeared in our March / April 2023 issue.
