In Pursuit of Wonder

May 1, 2024

Faith is becoming more interested in learning and exploring the natural world and desired to see the bluebell flowers. My Mom, Grandma to Faith, planned to take her in an evening after the day’s farm work was done, after doing errands in the neighboring town of Plainview. I had been working on the farm that day, and accompanied them. From Plainview it is an easy drive down county road four to Carley State Park, which is known for its bluebell festival. My brother, Isaiah, and his wife Shelby also wanted to see the bluebells in peak bloom; they were to meet us in the park. 

Bubbling with excitement, Faith nearly ran across the open grassy field at the central parking area. Mom and I called to her to slow down and wait for us. Upon reaching the grassy field, Faith headed straight for a boulder and climbed up onto it. She sat perched on top just long enough for me to snap a photo before she hopped down and sprinted the short distance to the swingset. “Aunt Bethany, come swing!” She called out. 

I approached the swingset at a modest stroll, “I would love to but my hips are too big to fit on the swing comfortably.” 

Disappointed that I could not swing with her, Faith hopped off and sauntered toward the forest edge to investigate the fluorescent purple flowers, the bluebells, Mertensia virginica. Their common name comes from their bell-shaped flowers. A member of the borage family, the plant is edible. Native Americans used it for a variety of medications, mainly for pulmonary aide – used to treat tuberculosis and whooping cough – which is perhaps where it gets its other name, lungwort. Mertensia virginica prefers to grow in moist woods and in shaded edges. It seems even more fugacious than other ephemeral spring flowers. Their otherworldly glow can easily be missed if you dither a day or two on going to the park to see them. A day or two late, after they peak, and their magic is a bit diminished. (I went two days later with another niece, and they were far less impressive.) The only drawback to visiting the park to see these evanescent blooms is that the tiny park tends to be packed with people. 

Mom wondered, “What is taking Isaiah and Shelby so long to get here?” We wanted to begin hiking before Faith lost her focus, few things hold her attention for long. After momentarily kneeling in the grass to cradle several blossoms in her hand, Faith relocated to a log and sat down, impatiently waiting to begin the hike. I knelt down to take photos while I waited, trying to get a good representation of the bluebells. I noticed tucked among them the less showy but still beautiful, rue anemone, Thalictrum thalictroides. 

Finally, Isaiah and Shelby arrived and joined us, leading the way down the riverside trail. I spotted a yellow flower among the greenery, probably swamp buttercup, Ranunculus hispidus, and many more rue anemone. Faith was delighted to be exploring new territory with some of her favorite people. (I am convinced Grandma is her favorite person.) 

“Trout lilies!” Mom excitedly pointed out. Erythronium albidum, white trout lilies are another fun spring flower. We also saw waterleaf, not yet in bloom. 

“Mom, have you seen any otters or beavers here recently?” 

“No, it’s been a couple years since I have seen any here. I just see old signs of beavers.” The path wound around, sometimes quite close to the Whitewater River, we enjoyed peering into the water as we walked along. Squirrels scolded from high above, in the incredibly tall tree tops. Birds twittered, generally out of sight. The evening was incredible. 

We came around a bend, “Mom, there’s a beaver sign!” I said. 

“Yes, but it is old.” Beavers had begun to chop down a tree but quit just before they finished the job. 

“I wonder why they sometimes leave a tree that they started on,” I mused. 

“I don’t know,” Mom replied. She bent down and pulled out a clump of garlic mustard, an invasive that the park staff is all too happy to have visitors remove. Shelby silently enjoyed the beauty of the park, seeing it and the wonder of blooming bluebells for the first time. Isaiah doesn’t hike much but also seemed to be enjoying the wonder and healing powers of being in the woods. Stretched out beneath the trees, lay an impressionist painting, the bluebells appeared to glow. 

At a fork in the trail, to Faith’s disappointment, Mom declared we should turn around to head back. “But Grandma, can we go up the hill?” Faith eagerly asked.

“Not this time, we need to be heading home.” Faith sighed in disappointment. We conversed in low voices. 

While heading back, we observed the river. “There’s an animal in the water,” I whispered. We paused to watch it more closely. “Shoot, I should have brought my long lens with me. I just didn’t think we’d see animals. Is it an otter?”

“I think it is,” Mom replied. Isaiah gently teased me about leaving the long lens behind. The tiny, brown creature swam across the narrow river to the opposite bank near a fallen tree. It appeared to be sitting in the water chewing on something, perfectly content. 

“That’s not an otter. It’s a young beaver!” I exclaimed, once again kicking myself for not bringing the long lens. (I do this far too often.) 

“Well so it is,” Mom agreed. We all watched it for several minutes until the beaver disappeared in a hole in the bank. We continued onward, enthralled that we had been able to observe the beaver. 

Not too far along, we once again paused as we heard rustling in the leaf litter on the hillside above and across the river. We could just make out another fuzzy brown creature. “A woodchuck,” Mom said. Faith had trouble seeing it at first, Mom had to direct her where to look. It shuffled around in the leaves, stopping now and then to watch us, deciding if we were a threat, then continue about its business. It disappeared in a hole when a lady with a dog came along and drew up beside us, asking what we were looking at. She moved on, as did we. Having come to see flowers, we all felt it a great gift to have been able to briefly observe a beaver and woodchuck. Back in the grassy field, Faith climbed up onto another boulder and stood, lifting her arms in celebration over a fun and successful hike. She left wanting to go hiking again. 

Don’t forget to purchase a copy of each of my books on Amazon – Dandelions https://a.co/d/96sAFHU, Raking Leaves https://a.co/d/fnbusTI, Making Applesauce https://a.co/d/bVbQ7Hw, and Pruning Apple Trees https://a.co/d/3qUIcoV