“You belong among the wildflowers, you belong somewhere you
feel free.”
It’s pretty clear from those lyrics that Tom Petty, honorary
Californian, spent some idyllic hours in a poppy field. Springtime in
California brings rolling waves of wildflowers, which cascade down vibrant
green hills and dot the rocky coastal landscapes. (The first glimpse I got of a
poppy superbloom was driving through the Grapevine--CA’s infamous Hwy 5
mountain pass—where the hilltops were so orange I thought they were on fire.) For
over 30 years I have made annual pilgrimages to some of the loveliest
wildflower trails on the north coast. Tom captured the feeling—you do feel free—when
you emerge from your winter hibernation to bask in the chaotic, colorful, joyous
beauty of the first flowers of spring.
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| redood violets |
But this springtime is different. Yes, the wildflowers are
blooming, and as always, my body aches to belong somewhere it feels free. But
it’s springtime during Covid-19, which means we are still sheltering in place.
Our parks, beaches, and trails are closed, and we are limited to outings within
walking distance of our house. So now let me just add this caveat: we are
living during a pandemic killing thousands of people, so not being able to walk
among the wildflowers is a small price to stay to enforce the social distance
we need to minimize the loss of human life.That really goes without saying. So,
take this post in the spirit in which it was intended: as a love letter to wildflowers.
I may not be seeing many this year, but I can share my photos from years past,
so you can enjoy their beauty, their stamina, and the simple fact that beauty
abounds even in the midst of a crisis.
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| Poppies and lupines |
Let the love fest begin! At present, I feel profound gratitude
for the California poppy. This native plant also goes by nicknames like “flame
flower” and “cup of gold”, which better conveys both their glorious color and
their god-like stature, (which seems appropriate for our state, says a native
California with all pride). They are among the first to bloom in spring, and
they reseed in open meadows, along roads, in garden beds. They are prolific, resilient,
and yet oddly resistant to taming – try transplanting one and you will rarely
succeed. As I write this, California’s early adoption of social distancing
flattened the curve and helped curb the spread of Covid. Under the leadership
of Governor Newsom, Californians demonstrated that same reliance and
independence, which helped keep more of our community alive.
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| Tower of Flowers, wild radish |
And just like peanut butter needs jelly, the California poppy,
IMHO, is always better when served with a side of lupine (shown with poppies above). These purple or blue
flowers usually bloom at the same time as poppies, and when you happen upon fields
where they mix, your artist’s heart will skip a beat. Its name is Latin for “wolf,”
because it grows in nutrient deprived soil. It was originally thought to deplete
soil, but is now credited with helping restore it. And a bit of trivia: University
of California chose its school colors of blue and gold, because the campus they
built in 1868 was surrounded by poppies and lupine.
I am lucky to live within walking distance of a redwood forest,
so the daily sightings of new blossoms thrill me—just ask my kids (I offered to
give them a $1 each time they correctly identified a flower). This year’s award
for first flower goes to Trillium, a lovely white (fading to purple) lily-like
flower that looks heavenly when illuminated by sunlight filtered through the
canopy. Much easier to miss is the aptly named white Modesty, the charmingly
named pale Milkmaids, and tiny yellow Redwood violets. In late April and early
May (if trails are open) venture into any redwood forest for a display of showy
pink wild rhododendrons, tall shrubs that get to be several stories tall as
they reach up toward the light, dotting the forest with bursts of pink.
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| Footsteps of Spring |
Coastal walks reveal different varieties still, and this
year I was sad to miss my favorite early bloom, “Footsteps of Spring.” They
often occur on paths and the flowers look like flattened or pressed flowers.
They come by their name honestly, as they grow about a foot-step apart from
each other. Expect to see coastal daisies, deep red Mendocino paintbrush, purple
Salsify, plus flowering mustard. There’s a section on the southern part of the Fort Bragg Coastal Trail (now open to locals) where the wild radish grows so tall
and dense it blocks all views of the ocean for a few yards. I’ve dubbed it the “Tower
of Flowers” and it feels magical to walk through it. Also keep your eyes peeled
for the native, symmetrical succulent Dudleya, which is sadly now being poached
off the coasts.
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| Nuttall's Tootort, growing out of a redwood tree knothole |
Friends, this is just a tiny taste of some of California’s
beautiful wildflowers. I am so grateful for all the photos posted to social
media by friends sheltering-in-place. The snaps of your favorites from your
own local walks connect me to you and to nature. We all belong among the
wildflowers!
