Let’s meet at Grandview above the New River Gorge while the sun is still working its way through the pine and bare hickory. The hardcore birders left from Shelter #4 hours ago but we will follow the same course down the abandoned mining road to the River. We will follow the wild flowers. We will walk into Spring.
We don’t see a lot blooming up here at the end of April, elevation 2,500 feet in the West Virginia Appalachians. Beneath the trees and in the sunny patches the landscape is still mostly brown, but that doesn’t hold for long. Trailing arbutus and trout lily greet us in the first quarter mile, wake robin and four more species of trillium pop up along the course of the trail, wild iris and asters appear by the time we’ve descended 1,000 feet to river’s edge – all of Spring blooming in one morning.
And just in case we miss something we have a guide: my wife’s sister Jodi French-Burr, National Park Service ranger, naturalist, and interpreter. She’ll be kneeling in the duff gently parting the leaves so we can see the wild ginger blossoms. She’ll have at the tip of her tongue the name of every growing thing we discover. She’ll tell us the history of this winding trail and point out relics and landmarks along the way. And she will usually laugh at my jokes.
Come and convince yourself that the earth is filled with beauty.
Bring water and a snack. RESERVATIONS requested by April 21, 2020: 304-465-2632 or jodi_french-burr@nps.gov.
[UPDATE 3/23/2020 — due to the COVID-19 Pandemic many NPS and New River Gorge activities may have to be canceled or rescheduled. Be sure the check this site for the latest info:
https://www.nps.gov/neri/planyourvisit/wildflower-weekend.htm
BUT . . . outdoor activities with family and small groups (maintaining your social distancing) are just what THIS doctor orders! Get out into nature! Viruses hate sunlight! . . . . . . . . Bill G ]
Erythronium americana — Trout Lily (Dog-tooth Violet, yellow adder’s tongue, fawn lily)
. . . . . . .
Deborah H. Doolittle has created a unique botanical and poetic experience with her collection Floribunda, a true garden of verse. The focal point of each poem is a particular flower, from Cowslip to Gardenia, but the speaker or the style of each poem is a giant of literature, from William Blake and Lewis Carroll to Sylvia Plath and Wallace Stevens. To wander the garden path of Deborah’s poetry is to smell the fragrance and delight in the colors but also to abide in the company of great writers, Deborah H. Doolittle not the least of them. Open to any page and converse.
[all selections are from Floribunda, © Deborah H. Doolittle, Main Street Rag Publishing Company, 2017]
Hepatica americana — Round-lobed Hepatica
. . . . . . .
Emily Dickinson’s Wild Flowers
The way she dressed a flower was
just that extravagant.
The haute couture of wild flowers!
wild flowers! her element.
To that pale cheek she called petal,
she pressed both stem and leaf –
the lupine, like crinoline; sweet
clover, tight Damascus weave.
She had played the part of Botanist,
a child’s specialty.
Swamp candles shed no brighter light
in Latin for the bee.
Grasses of Parnassus, skullcap
of the tiny laces,
she pressed herself soft as a moth
treading through her pages.
Antennaria solitaria — Solitary Pussytoes
. . . . . . .
Henry David Thoreau and the Sunflower
Who among us has not followed the sun
and hated the clouds that hid its shining face?
Who else but us can claim that we have traced
across the sky the very path it runs?
We’ve traveled much through Concord, you and I.
The widest fields are fenced and most contain
cattle or corn or the stock of kitchen
gardens. The farmers never wonder why
your seeds proliferate upon their grounds.
I know how the wind blows the smallest crumb
and how the bees and birds know where to come.
The two of us, like them, know no such bounds.
The hedgerows and stonewalls can’t grow taller.
The sun is but a star and you’re its flower.
Sanguinaria canadensis — Bloodroot
. . . . . . .
Sylvia Plath and the Impatiens
Unlike my empty hands,
it does not just lie there
with its flowers opening
upon white bed linen.
All its seeds jettisoned,
its future guaranteed
for at least another
season, this jewel-weed,
asks for nothing that I
cannot give it. It basks
in my sunlight, breathes in
my exhalations as fast
as I can breathe them out,
again. Still, we are both
waiting for the nurses
to make their rounds, the sun
to rise up, then subside,
for the moon and the stars
to appear and disappear,
for winter’s frost to turn
us into limp black rags.
Asarum virginicum – Heart-leaf Ginger (Little Brown Jugs)
. . . . . . .
The other way to walk into Spring, although it takes a month or two, is to stroll along the same trail every day. Linda and I walk the Elkin Valley Trail Association Nature Trail along Big Elkin Creek at least three days a week. First appears trout lily, hepatica close behind, then every day or two there’s a new species in sequence: pussy-toes, wild ginger, bloodroot, rue anemone, star chickweed. In a month there will be foamflower, bellwort, jewel-weed, jack-in-the-pulpit. The photos in this post were all blooming on the same day, March 16, 2020.
Anemonella thalictroides — Rue Anemone
. . . . . . .
Deborah H. Doolittle moved from her birthplace in Hartford, Connecticutt through many different landscapes and gardens before settling in Jacksonville, North Carolina. She has an MA in Women’s Studies and and MFA in Creative Writing and teaches at Coastal Carolina Community College. She serves on the Board of the North Carolina Poetry Society and she loves flowers.
Stellaria pubera – Star Chickweed
. . . . . . .
V E R S E ❦ I M A G E 