Late budding bloodroot cluster down by the creek, and along the trail into the deep woods, the first white trillium of the season blooms in the shelter of a warm, mossy boulder. On the other side of the same boulder are the first columbine leaves and buds I have seen this year, but they still have a long way to go.
There is only one way to capture my favorite springtime wildflowers, and that is to recline full length in the rustling sun-warmed leaves with camera and notebook in hand, eyelash to eyelash and nose to nose with some of the most beautiful and subtly elegant blooms ever to appear anywhere on the planet.
Only at close quarters can one can really take in the shapes and colors and textures of a bloodroot colony blooming in its native element, watch sunlight and leaflight journeying across snowy trilliums, revel in flickering shadows flowing over everything and making fluid patterns in their dancing.
Then along comes the wind. Within minutes of capturing a few images this weekend, the velvety petals had been blown from their moorings and were drifting across the clearing in soft fluffy heaps like new snow. I was fortunate in being there at just the right time and seeing the blooms before they were deconstructed by the roistering elements of springtime.
There is something to be said for looking at life and wild places from a slightly different angle once in a while. When I rolled over and looked up at the sky through the budding maple trees, the prospect was absolutely dazzling, and I felt like an otter cavorting in the sunlight. All I needed was a river.