On Monday, my kids and I drove forty-five minutes north and west in order to be in the path of totality for the eclipse. My friend Wendy and her family have a home with land out that way, and Wendy planned a gala event that a number of us were able to go to.
This note isn’t specifically about the eclipse, though that was amazing. I’m sure if you didn’t see all or some of it yourself you’ve been inundated with photos and videos. We were afraid it might be hidden by clouds, or worse, rain—the forecast was iffy—but though there were great clouds at the beginning, everything cleared in time for us to get the full effect. One of the kids reminded me that a video we’d seen mentioned that clouds might evaporate near totality because of…something, something—I can’t remember!…so perhaps that’s what happened. No matter the case, it was a sweet gift from God.
So yes, lovely time had by all. The event was a treat, and the company dear.
But what I wanted to write about, because our drive along farm to market highways and back roads reminded me, was how much I love this area at this time of year. Spring in the Piney Woods of East Texas is absolutely gorgeous. I admit I am not one of many who are afflicted with pollen allergies at this time of year, so my joy is unalloyed. I try to commiserate with family and friends who spend a couple months with stuffed heads and drippy noses, but when I see the flowers…I forget…. Forgive me, friends.
Our part of Texas is rolling hills of grass and pine, live oak, sweet gum, etc.. It’s also extremely humid, but that means it is green, green, green, so many beautiful shades. In March, April, and May the wildflowers put out their finery and the green is interlaced with jewels of coral, amethyst, garnet, and gold. “Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these1.” And it’s not lilies of the field. We’re talking coral Indian paintbrush, garnet-red clover, golden coreopsis, and pink evening primroses (to name just a few). Name a color, and we can find it, even Texas bluebonnets if we search (that’s one flower not too common in our parts). I feel like each year we’re here I see more—they blanket the fields and highway verges. You have to be blind or glued to a screen not to see them, and pretty hardened not to have a lift of spirits at the sight of them. Coral fire bleeds into dark red, green and gold flood fields, delicate swaths of the palest of pinks flutter beside gray tarmac. This was the riot we passed as we drove to Wendy’s on Monday.
As I gazed, I pondered the right words to describe the colors. I think “coral” when I see the Indian paintbrush, though “vermillion” is a lovely word, too, and apt.
“What color would you call the clover?” I asked Evie. “Crimson?”
But that wasn’t quite right, and scarlet was too red.
“Maroon?” Ev suggested.
That’s right for the color—a deep purply-red, on the cool side. But it’s an awful word. We tossed it, and I finally landed on garnet which works better for the feel of it. I’m still not completely satisfied.
Golden “bitterweed” is a name I found when I looked up its name for a story I wrote a few years ago. However I just discovered it’s actually coreopsis, which fits it much better, so I guess it’s good I updated the story and changed the time to August when the coreopsis has gone. Of course, its common name is “large-flowered tickseed,” which reminds me of grisly names like “spotted dead nettle” and “lungwort,” two of my favorite ground covers back in Michigan. Ah well, we can’t name them all! I thought the red clover was Indian paintbrush for the longest time, and just enlightened my friend Emily on that one last week. She’d thought the same thing. I mean, it looks like a paintbrush!
Wendy’s back field is full of many of these, primarily paintbrush and clover, and as the moon progressed across the sun Monday, the light dimmed and seemed to thicken, and all of the colors popped. I hopped down from the back terrace and spent some contented moments trying to capture their beauty. Last year about this time we were tromping those fields as well for Clare’s senior photos, and it makes me happy every time I look at the pictures to see Clare in blue beaming among the green and coral. I took photos of the flowers then, too, and I’ll take them again. I can’t resist. I will never capture everything it is that makes them lovely, but I hope I never grow so blind that I don’t care to try.
1 Matthew 6:29
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Such beautiful flowers and greens! I can’t help but stop to snap pictures of flowers I’ve photographed lots of times before. Purple coneflower, black eyed Susan, sunflower, thistle! Never get tired of them!
I felt this way yesterday in Michigan. One of the first days of real spring as we break out of the gray days of winter. I felt like spinning around our hills singing..."The hills are alive with the sound of SPRING!" The wild violets are out in full bloom and we picked some for jelly, and our daffodils look amazing!, my "Easter" tree/bushes have all bloomed. I miss our East Texas Landscapes...but not the pollen!!! Thanks for sharing pictures! I wish I had been there with you all!!!