John Shearer's column,   648 words

 My wife and I recently went looking for wildflowers at my parents’ farm in the Mountain Creek community of Chattanooga.

Although I usually go there a couple of times a week to jog or walk, this was the first time I had ever gone specifically to examine wildflowers. As a result, I felt almost like a visitor while looking at the familiar land from a different perspective.

Instead of gazing at the large trees, the handsome rolling landscape, or the panoramic view of Waldens Ridge, as I usually do when I am over there, I was looking for the tiniest of nature’s colorful offerings.

I was already quite aware that the farm is full of mayapples. And this year, on one hillside, I had noticed an abundance of trillium plants. Although my feeling might have been quite different if I had seen another three-leaf plant – poison ivy – taking over so much of the ground, I was excited to see this plant in such numbers because I know it is not found everywhere.

I also thought I might find plenty of other varieties.

Not long after we started, my wife and I came across two kinds of white wildflowers. Unfortunately, we could not identify them with the small wildflower field guidebook we had, so my wife, who is an accomplished artist, sketched them for future reference.

We then began walking around and I was a little disappointed we did not find any more varieties.

I was starting to feel down about the experience when my wife suddenly began pointing a few feet away. There, in a heavily shaded and obscure spot across the small stream that runs from a hillside spring to Mountain Creek, were several yellow flowers.

We hurriedly crossed the creek, stepped over a turtle that was enjoying its afternoon under a shade tree and went to the spot where the flowers were to check out our discovered treasure up close. With the help of the guidebook, we quickly deciphered that they were trout lilies.

We felt quite proud of ourselves. And I became fascinated knowing I had never crossed paths with the plants in my decades of trampling across the land.

The excitement was hard to describe, but for the first time that day, I felt as though the search had been worth it.

Since we had already been at the farm about an hour, I decided to take a short jog before we were to go home. I told my wife I was also going to scour an area of the farm where we had not yet been and look for some more wildflowers.

Less than a minute later, I came across a patch of Virginia bluebells. I knew what they were because we also have a patch of them in our backyard. And as was the case with the trout lilies, this was the only place on the entire farm where they could be found.

I excitedly went back to tell her, feeling as if I had struck gold -- again. I was starting to feel as though I were Henry David Thoreau, or at least Lady Bird Johnson.

As my wife followed me back to where they were, I noticed some red petals on the ground and started wondering what flower they might be. My wife told me she thought they were actually from a tree, so I looked up. Above me was a tree with its green leaves already out.

It was an unfamiliar tree, but I took a guess and said I thought it was some kind of buckeye. A look in a tree book after I went home revealed that it was indeed a buckeye, a red buckeye.

I felt pretty satisfied realizing I had made some discoveries at a place I thought I knew pretty well.

My eyes had been thoroughly entertained as well.

-30-

Return to Catalogue