A couple of weeks ago, I went with some friends to a section of the Appalachian Trail to see the wildflowers. It was about a 3 mile hike, lead by super-hiker Sam. The dude is amazing, not only for his strength and stamina, but for his encyclopedic knowledge of anything that you see. He is like a cable TV remote set on ‘shuffle’ as he talks about everything: trees, flowers, plants, rocks, soil, birds, animals, poop, streams, history, forgotten farms, insects, reptiles, snakes, clouds, and weather. Meanwhile, he is tracking and monitoring his almost-three year old son, who is running up and back on the trail.
We saw many different kinds of flowers, but mostly the Trillium. Hills and valleys, filled with these mostly white flowers. Sam tells me that Trillium are very delicate– essentially impossible to propagate, and very difficult to transplant. In fact, if they are disturbed in the wild, they will not grow again for many years. So they are like a gift of grace: I couldn’t take them home if I wanted, but there were more on the trail than I could even see. It was a beautiful thing.