My mother gave me this slim volume when I was a teenager, perhaps when my Biology teacher, Mr. Garvelli, assigned a flower collection project in the tenth grade. It's small - only five inches by three inches, likely designed to fit into a pack or pocket. It was her mother's, she explained, and I should appreciate it.
Already losing some of its pages due to its worn, deteriorating binding, I dismissed the gift with a teen's disdain though I was wise enough to understand I should keep it.
It disappeared for many years, and turning up recently in the bottom of a liquor store box with papers from the 1970s. It had long since been replaced with newer wildflower guides as my children completed their flower projects in Biology class. But in the 21st Century, we've come to rely on a smart phone app to give us the answers.
On an unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon last week, the woods beckoned and we set off on a familiar path - the Commissioner Trail at the foot of Denton Hill.
Spring Beauties at first caught my eye close to the path. But on the rocky hillside, their new green sprouts pushed through last year's leaves and the leaves of the years before, their delicate flowers a pale pink blush in all that brown and gray. And far above, the promise of this year's leaves in the trees.
Then I remembered, Spring Beauties were the first flower I identified from my grandmother's little wildflower book. That page is one that has been lost from her book. But the page with this flower is still there.
Ill Scented Wake Robin? |
Dog-Toothed Violet Yellow Adder's Tongue Trout Lily Fawn Lilly |
Perhaps the Downy Yellow Violet "prefers for its habitat dry, hilly woods, often by the side of rushing brooks, but not usually where the soil is moist." |
And here is more food from the forest floor - wild leeks!
"the various species belong to this genus (allium) are very strongly scented, pungent herbs growing from a coated bulb." |
Though my mother isn't up to a hike on the Commissioner just now, I shared with her my delight of the spring woods as we drove along a country road so she could enjoy the coming of spring from the car.
"Do you still have the wildflower book that was Mother's?" she asked.
"I do ... and I even know where it is," I answered.
"Good, that was precious to her," she said after a moment.
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