My signal has been unstable to non-existent this week so I haven't been able to post a regular blog account. I'm going to try to see if I can post mainly photos. We don't have many wildflowers, the few we do get out here have to be willing to sprout in unfriendly soil--often rocky niches--and handle a lot of rain and wind. Yet, as you can see, some flowers thrive and are beautiful in less than inviting conditions. Perhaps we can, too.
The top photo is of Indian Paintbrush, which has an independent, can-do attitude and seems to thrive where others might be lonely. Absolutely nothing keeps it from growing exactly where it pleases and enjoying its solitude. I admit to feeling an affinity to this wildflower. The second is, of course, the lowly daisy. Scorned everywhere as a weed, here it is cherished for its comparative delicacy in a world of rock, sea, and forest. Anyone can be lovely and valued in the right setting.
The buttercup is probably the flower least able to be intimidated. It seems to go out of its way, with jaunty style, to find the rockiest, most uncomfortable home around. But it also tends to pick a spot with a great view. It's learned, perhaps, that in this life you have to take the good with the bad and not let it get you down.
The beautiful wild lupine is our classiest wildflower. It reminds me of my sister who grew up in the bush in rocky soil, but who always maintained an interest in style and elegance, which she has no matter where she goes. The lupine knows, as my sister did, that your environment can't limit or define you if you don't let it.
Orange hawkweed is a gregarious wildflower--too gregarious and friendly, some feel. It tends to take over every bit of good soil it can latch onto. It's a bit of an opportunist, but rewards us with its bright, outgoing personality. It's a wildflower that insists on being your friend and sharing its happy outlook on life no matter how much the world frowns at it. Perhaps that's why it always survives the slings and arrows of man and nature.
Our wildflowers may be few, but they're fierce. Every summer they come back to show us that beauty can thrive in the least likely places.