Searching for the Wild Trillium

Ah - wandering into spring… dozens of morning voices call me from my snug cocoon of sleep. Blue Jays sound their wake-up call, goldfinches twitter “It is spring. Wake up – it is spring.” From the flycatcher to the woodpecker I hear their voices echoing, “It is spring.” Through the open window comes the sparrow’s cry, “Follow me.” Rustling through the woodland soft breezes whisper “Come and see.” How I wish I could share with you the melody of the morning.

Spring mornings such as this set me to dreaming about warblers and spring flowers…. Guess I may have a severe case of spring fever --- From what I have been reading on your blogs it sounds like it may be one of the things that is going around this time of the year. J At any rate, Along with the other voices that whisper to me this morning, I can hear the call of the wild trillium…. Do you hear it too? The call is irresistible – can you see it? - Deepest crimson nestled there under the trees, the sunlight casting a ruby glow on its petals? --- So - on with the walking shoes and out to the woods….

Winter stiffened muscles groan and moan as I wander down the trail. Traveling through new-green grasses, past hollow trees, along the sun kissed hillsides, nearly treading on the profusion of ferns not yet unfurled. I have to step carefully to get around Club mosses that look like tiny pine trees, which are growing in the middle of the path. The route is not difficult, gentle ups and downs. Every direction I look, new life surrounds me; buds and leaves, catkins and seeds fill the still open canopy over my head. High in the upper reaches of the treetops illusive warblers send their songs to encourage me as I wander along the pathway.

Soon the sounds of water splashing over the rocks draws my attention, as I hurry toward the stream, I stop to admire a miniature garden of moss and ferns at the base of a large oak tree… My breath catches… we have found the trillium!

Listening
'T is you that are the music, not your song.
The song is but a door which, opening wide,
Lets forth the pent-up melody inside,
Your spirit's harmony, which clear and strong
Sings but of you. Throughout your whole life long
Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide
This perfect beauty; waves within a tide,
Or single notes amid a glorious throng.
The song of earth has many different chords;
Ocean has many moods and many tones
Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods
The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones
Autumn alone can ripen. So is this
One music with a thousand cadences.
--- Poetry of Amy Lowell

For a lovely post about trillium visit:
kerrdelune Beyond the Fields We Know