Wild about Wildflowers March 1, 2015

My fifth grade teacher, Ruby Stauffer, loved wildflowers. Mrs. Stauffer lived in the countryside of southeastern Pennsylvania, and it seemed that everything we kids learned that year was somehow filtered through the lens of these delicate plants, from sexual reproduction to art and presentation. The year culminated with a visit to Mrs. Stauffer’s home and a tramp through her local woods to inspect, collect, and catalog the local beauties - Jack-in-the-pulpit, May apple, forget-me-knots, mountain laurel, and trillium – as we tried all the while to avoid an encounter with poison ivy. Back at home, wildflowers were ironed between pages of wax paper for preservation, descriptions were written in our best cursive, covers were made with block letters cut out of black construction paper, and all of these sheets were bound together by round-headed brass fasteners. I will never forget working on that project, hovering over the round, orange table in my bedroom on a sunny Saturday afternoon, cooled by the white-and-black striped awning that shielded my open bedroom window, and listening to the sounds of other kids playing outside. 

All this is to say that there is a special place in my heart for the humble wildflower, and I look forward to its appearance after the winter rains of Northern California.  Last week’s “Park Wavelengths” announced the arrival of chocolate lilies at Chimney Rock, so I convinced another wildflower-keen friend to join me for a weekend of spotting and photographing the early spring blooms. I downloaded a list of 120 species (!) of early spring flowers sighted at Chimney Rock over the past 20 years and grabbed the plastic-coated identification guide I had picked up at the Bear Valley Visitor Center.

Rain was forecast for Saturday, and as we drove through the bend in Sir Francis Drake, just north of Inverness, gigantic raindrops hard-plopped onto our windshield and sunroof.  But within a few miles, we emerged from the grey zone to a brilliant blue sky and dry land under foot.  Our short hike took us first to the edge of the westward cliffs, where we spotted families of elephant seals with their new young, waddling to keep up with their mothers and emitting little squeaks.  One little guy was so tiny (from our vantage point), that I held my breath while an enormous male passed by him. 

The big winners at Chimney Rock were Douglas iris and checkerbloom, and at first we thought that might be all there was to see.  But soon we found many other species: Indian paintbrush, blue-eyed-grass, blue larkspur, buttercups, mules ears, wallflower, wild cucumber, field chickweed, seaside daisy, and the low lying and aptly named footsteps of spring. Indeed, for a single day on a small patch of earth, quite an exciting variety, except the chocolate lily (also known as mission bells).  Ah well, perhaps another day.