Last week my husband, Alfredo, my son Delamon (yes, I have two sons!) and I hiked to Boulder Basin. The views hiking into the Boulder Mountains are very striking. Arriving at the old mining town of Boulder City is an added bonus. The rustic cabins and antique mining equipment is a call to the past and it is interesting to wander the sights imagining life as it once was in this picturesque but hardscrabble basin.
The trail is a very rocky road which, surprisingly, still has a lot of water from snowmelt. The rivulets in the meadows are also still running strong. We saw an incredible selection of wildflowers and I must admit that I probably exclaimed every five seconds, “Look at this flower!” or “Have you ever seen so many of these blooming all together?” Finally, my son Delamon commented, “I have truly never seen anyone that loves wildflowers as much as you do.” I thought this was odd, as he has spent many summers on the Middle Fork as a river raft guide amongst a group of outdoor enthusiasts.
And so, as I hiked, I pondered about why I am so passionate about wildflowers. Of course, their loveliness is a big reason, but beyond this, I love the noble nature of the flowers. They bloom whether we are there to see them or not. In isolated mountain meadows the flowers show themselves in full regalia, not needing the adulation of an audience. There are years that do not favor a certain flower; for example, the white bog orchid (my readers are now familiar with this flower) that likes wet meadows so much. In a dry year it tends to lay dormant and wait, patiently, until the conditions are right. Then it springs forth, without rancor, in full beauty.
Near the beginning of our hike we came across a white bog orchid and I excitedly showed the plant to Delamon, commenting that it is a fairly uncommon flower. As we walked, we came across another one and then another one. Then we saw a meadow full of them, until my son said, “I don’t believe you that this flower is uncommon,” and certainly on that particular day, on that particular hike, it was not. I love that a flower can have an extremely “good” year where all of the conditions are perfect and it bursts forth in full glory. There are few things in life that are as willing to put on such a beautiful show after years of neglect.
Throughout the hike we came across fields full of one or two types of flowers. We saw purple fields of penstemon and we also saw fields of penstemon mixed with golden buckwheat yellow with purple, a perfect complementary combination. We also saw meadows brimming with many different flowers, creating colorful kaleidoscopic designs.
The day was a perfect day for wildflower viewing and, yes, I was in “exclamation heaven” viewing one beautiful flower after another! Stay tuned for next week when I write about the old cabins and mining equipment.
