These plants were at the outer edge of a neighbor’s property, so I could stay on the sidewalk and still get pictures. Almost immediately, a woman popped her head out the front door and asked me what I was doing. Her tone seemed accusing. I guess my crouching near her garden area looked suspicious. We ended up having a pleasant, socially distanced talk for several minutes about the columbines. She told me she had transported them some distance from her late father’s property, and she was pleased they handled the move and were thriving. She had several varieties, and the shaded area was lovely. Her story somehow made it all lovelier.
Life is crazy now. Most of us, I think, are doing our best to be responsible and safe. To stay sane. Posting wildflower pictures feels a bit silly, like a disconnect with the realities of the situation. Nevertheless, I’ve got to work with what I’ve got.
Tall trees along the walking trail are bare, still winter-like. On a sunny day the bright light shines through unfiltered, throwing long shadows below. Everything close to the ground, though, the shrubs and small plants, is greening up, with sprouts growing bigger each day. And in so many spots, small flowers line the black top paths and extend in wide patches out into the woods. Maybe this is their time. The ground is warm enough, the day is long enough, and there’s nothing to stop the March sun from reaching them.
It’s different now. There are many more walkers. Not crowds of people, but more than normal. A lot of individual walkers or hikers. Kids on bicycles. Whole families walking. It seems safe enough. There’s plenty of space and open air.
For now, it’s reality.
a couple of broader shots for perspective