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Wildflower Wednesday | Spring Week 12

A different kind of Sunday.

We’d spent the weekend in Klamath Falls, helping Rob’s family with some work at his mother’s home. It was good work, and necessary — but by Sunday we were both running on empty. So we drove out to his uncle and aunt’s property near Keno and made our way down to the Klamath River.

Rob fished. I wandered.

The river was running fast and high, visible in glimpses through tall stands of reed and grass. The landscape was lush and layered — so different from the high desert I walk most weeks.

And then I started noticing.

Wild rose — Wood’s Rose, I think, though the varieties are hard to sort — blooming pink along the bank. Threadstalk tansymustard in bright yellow clusters. Hairy whitetop, small and white and easy to miss. Western goat’s beard with its pointed bracts. Diamond clarkia, that vivid purple-pink, right there in the open. Nevada arnica, sunny and low to the ground. Yarrow just beginning.

A damselfly landed on my finger and stayed.

Northern yellow warblers moved through the willows — I caught them with the Merlin app, then just stood and watched them. Redwing blackbirds called from everywhere.

I painted. Watercolors, sitting on a rock at the river’s edge, looking out at the water and the hillside while Rob worked the current.

And then there were the cars.

This site was a dump decades ago. Old vehicles pushed off the hillside, left where they landed. They’re still there — rusted cab shells sitting deep in the grass and shrubs, the land slowly, quietly taking them back. Wildflowers growing up through the frames. The past doesn’t disappear all at once.

On the drive home, Rob said, “I’ve thought of a word to describe you that I’ve never used before. You’re a naturalist.”

I’ve been exploring, delighting, and playing in nature since I was six years old.

I think he’s right.

Still noticing.

What pulls your attention when you step outside?