In Pursuit of Wonder

May 4, 2025

Jesse and I decided to spend the beautiful day hiking at Whitewater State Park rather than squandering it in our dark basement. We stopped at a local grocery store, not exactly along the way to pick up sandwich supplies to have a picnic breakfast/lunch. Arriving at the park around 10:30 am, we passed by the tables beneath the trees near the parking lot, continuing onward to the empty beach. We chose a table off to the side of the beach but close to the pooled water of the Whitewater River. Geese swam in the pool claiming it as their territory – I regretted leaving my camera behind in the car while we dined. The regret deepened when a couple arrived with a black lab dog, encouraging the dog to play in the water. The man threw a ball for the lab to retrieve but every time it did so the geese came near to admonish the poor canine. Eventually, the lab didn’t want to get the ball anymore, afraid of the chiding geese. 

After packing up our breakfast gear and placing it back in the car, exchanging it for my camera, we began our hike at about 10:50 am. Retracing our steps to the bridge by the beach area, and straight across the large grassy area situated comfortably under great trees to the next bridge. Before stepping up onto it, Jesse paused to study the map as he always does though we’ve done a trail many times. I bent down to photograph the dainty pinkish white flowers growing around the signposts, appropriately named spring beauty, Claytonia virginica. The delightful blossoms painted the ground all around the sign and the base of the bridge. Pausing on the bridge, we let the sound of the sparkling water rush over and relax us, wishing for more time off than just a few hours a week. 

Continuing onward, we ascended the steps leading up the bluff. Trailing behind, I couldn’t resist stopping to take pictures of the lobed bloodroot leaves and large-flowered bellwort, Uvularia grandiflora, the dropping yellow blossoms are drops of sunshine. My breathing became labored and my heart rate increased the further I climbed, and yet that is the easiest way to Inspiration Point. Jesse waited at the top of the bluff, studying the map again even though we knew which way we were going. Although Chimney Rock is fun, we rarely turn left to climb it but rather hook right to wind across the top of the bluff to Inspiration Point. Uphill, we trudged, stone and roots paving the way. Sometimes there’d be level ground for awhile and I catch up to Jesse by jogging, after stopping to photograph the plants that caught my interest – rue anemone, Thalictrum thalictroides, with its whitish pink blossoms, the white blooms of bloodroot, Sanguinaria canadensis, the caterpillar-like catkins of the pearly white paper birch trees. One of my favorites is the charming Dutchman’s breeches, Dicentra cucullaria, with the upside-down white blooms that really do look like pants. The twisted, tangled, a characterful tree roots clasping to the ridge, holding the soil, also stirred my heart. My heart sang praises to God, who created season changes which bring such bountiful delights. I nearly shouted my thanks. The dark cloud that has hung over me, though sometimes it retreated to the distance, for most of my life, is beginning to break-up – and I have a feeling it’s breaking and lifting permanently, I don’t know, the clearing feels different this time. I can’t explain how or why. But I am grateful. A weight that I have carried for so many years is finally lifting. A cluster of bright, cheery yellow flowers drew my attention – possibly hoary puccoon, Lithospermum canescens. 

The well-trod path atop the bluff, winds about, up and down, sometimes side trails lead to beautiful overlooks or rock formations, turning abruptly to the spur of the bluff that hosts Inspiration Point. This aptly named overlook is narrow and a bit scary in an awe-inspiring way. At this point, human structures are hidden, one can imagine an untainted wilderness and be refreshed and healed. Jesse and I have a long history with this spot. We sit down side by side, feet dangling over the edge, there’s a slight rock ledge below us. The desire to take this calculated, controlled risk is something we find attractive in one another, and of course our desire to heal our planet. 

On the move again, we follow the other trail down the bluff, trying not to trip on the narrow, ladder-like steps to saunter through the valley alongside Trout Run Creek, reveling in the sun-dappled spring forest. The green carpet was stippled with white flowers. Still dormant trees lean over the wide, flat path, creating a tunnel effect. Awe bursts forth from me as I spot yellow trout lilies, Erythronium americanum, in bloom, “look at the trout lilies!” The trickling, glass-like stream soothed my spirit and lifted it high. Green algae clung to the rocks on the bottom. A few fish darted about. At the crossing, we removed our shoes and socks, sat down and plunged our feet in the numbingly cold water. If only it wasn’t contaminated with pesticides, herbicides, and chemical fertilizers. If people did a better job at coexisting with the nonhuman community, we could have quenched our thirst with this water. But uncertain of the contaminants it contained, we didn’t dare. At the picnic area, we strolled along the road. Wild blue phlox, Phlox divaricata, colonnades colored the roadside and marched up the bluff. Back at the car, we decided to hike Carley State Park too before going home, after all, it was on the way.

At Carley State Park, we were greeted unexpectedly by the iridescent, pale blue flowers of bluebells, Mertensia virginica, that dappled the forest floor with color too magical to be real. We followed the trail nestled between the hills, winding near the Whitewater River. The soothing presence of the river and purple glow enmating from among the green foliage along the ground acted as a tonic. I often fell behind Jesse, bending down for a closer shot of the spring blooms. We were enthralled not only by the bluebells but also by the upside down white blossom of trout lilies, Erythronium albidum, and the less beautiful and yet attractive Jack-in-the-pulpit, Arisaema triphyllum. Of course, the trees in this park are magnificent. At a trail crossroad, Jesse led us away from the river and up the hill to a less traveled path. 

The trail took us over the hill, wide at first, it soon became narrow, brambles and other plants leaned over the trail, crowding in on us. I don’t believe we have ever encountered other hikers on the trail, running along the edge of the park. The path wound back to the clear river, its bottom littered in stones. We paused briefly on the river crossing, letting the sweet sound of flowing water wash over us before departing.

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