No Hunting: Beauty Found

The sign said "No Hunting."

And, if you don't know they are there, it would be easy to miss the annual springtime visitors.

But because I look forward to the annual visit, I really didn't have to "hunt" to find my Zenith road flower garden.

 

For years, I've awaited the blooming of the irises at an old abandoned farmstead north of Zenith.

 

 By the middle of April, Randy was already keeping watch with me, too. I reminded him that May was usually the magical month.

And May it was again! With the news channels full of more coronavirus news, an evening visit to "my" secret garden was just the medicine I needed.

As you can see, my trusty companion went along, too. (That royal blue in the background is not a nattily-dressed deer. It's my wandering husband. Neither he or I realized he was in the shot that moment.)

Last year, the ground was marked with "For Sale" signs. Earlier this spring, a "SOLD" sign appeared on top of the real estate sign. We still don't know who the buyer is. But I am thankful for another year of appreciating the beautiful blooms.

(And to the new owner: No ground was harmed in the photographing of these irises, which I'd like to believe bloom for my enjoyment. But - true confessions - I did venture off the road and a few yards into the field.)

I love going to the spot as the sun is on its way down. It streaks across the dried CRP grasses in the background and contrasts with the deep green of the spring blooms.

The lights and shadows provide texture, as do the pieces of bark shed by the mighty trees who've born silent witness to the blooms for years.

We lived as newlyweds in a house just a mile north of Zenith. And, as I've shared before, I don't remember seeing the irises back then, even though they are less than a half mile away. I was speeding past them on my way to and from Hutchinson to work each day. That singular focus gave me tunnel vision, I suppose. At that point, I was likely gathering speed for the daily dash to The Hutchinson News offices. Or, after a long day away, I was ready to pull into the driveway and relax for a few hours before the merry-go-round began again the next day.

 

A trip to the Ninnescah pasture on Saturday afternoon included a detour to another of my secret gardens.

 Some of those blooms were only beginning to stretch out their petals for the spring show.

 The little caterpillar-like beard seemed to begin the metamorphosis into the beauty of spring.

Others were ready for their close-up.

While Covid-19 has interrupted our lives in ways we'd never dreamed just a few months ago, there may be a silver lining.

 

Or maybe the lining comes not in silver, but in the form of purple veining streaked like Crayola washable markers along paper-thin petals and the bright yellow beards of an old-fashioned flower.

And it comes with a realization to appreciate the little things. 

²⁷ “Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ²⁸ If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! ²⁹ And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it ... But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

Luke 12: 27-31

Peekaboo Flowers

Sometimes, I get blinded by the road before me. I'm hurrying to the next thing - whether that's picking up someone from the field or getting to town for a meeting. The dotted lines down the center of the blacktop can be hypnotizing - churning away the miles to get me to where I'm supposed to be.

Sometimes, I think it's my eyesight that fails me. I see the fluffy clouds dotting a bright blue sky, and I say a little prayer for that extra bit of beauty in my day. But the smaller things seem to elude my glasses-obscured peripheral vision.

That's when it's good to have a farmer who only needs glasses for reading. He sees some of those little things I miss. And he's good about sharing. Last week, he told me about some pretty purple blooms along the Raymond Road. He saw them while on a tractor, so it also put his line of sight above the CRP grasses. I had to go and see them for myself. 

Besides having an observant husband, I knew I could send a photo to my Master Gardener friend, Jeanie, and have the blossoms quickly identified. She says they are Dame's Rocket or hesperis matronalis, if you want to get all technical. Her seed catalog says that "hesperis" is Greek for evening, and the name was probably given because the scent of the flowers becomes more conspicuous towards evening. I can verify that, as I parked the car and waded through the ditch and downed tree limbs to see them up close.

This beautiful "crop" is likely at the site of an old farmstead. Jeanie says she's been seeing stands of these purple blossoms as she's delivered mail on rural routes in the last few weeks. 

Dame's rocket was brought from Europe in the 17th Century. In our neighboring Colorado, this member of the mustard family has been identified as a noxious weed (according to Wikipedia). I'm reminded of an A.A. Milne quote:

Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them. 
A.A. Milne
Author of Winnie the Pooh

They look like flowers to me. And beautiful ones at that.