By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Is there anything better than a sunflower to bring a smile to your face in the middle of summer? The only thing I can think of is to be standing in the middle of a huge sunflower field, with the sunflowers towering over you and the insects busily making their way around the seed heads.
On July 25, 2018, we left home around 4:00 a.m. and took the 3-hour drive up to Bergsbaken Farms, located about 40 minutes northwest of Green Bay, Wisconsin. Of course, we didn’t get there until mid-afternoon because we photographed in Oshkosh, Bonduel, and Cecil before heading to the sunflower fields.
Dale and Shari Bergsbaken and Lee and Betty Ann Bergsbaken are the current owners of Bergsbaken Farms. Dale and Lee’s father, Daryl, a World War II veteran, purchased the farm in 1948. He and his wife, Marie, began with 60 acres, 19 cows, and some pigs and chickens. In 1969, they constructed a milking parlor and began focusing solely on dairy. In 1987, after having grown the farm to 100 acres and 40 milk cows, Daryl and Marie turned the farm over to Dale, Lee, and their wives. Together they farmed 550 acres and milked 200 cows.
In 2006, on a visit to the hardware store, Lee Bergsbaken noticed a bag of sunflower seeds and got to wondering how hard it might be to grow a sunflower crop. The Bergsbakens had years of experience growing corn, soybeans, and other crops, so a year later, they planted 10 acres of sunflowers to see if it might be a worthwhile crop for the future. Around the same time, they decided to get out of the dairy business and focus on cash crops.
In the following years, the Bergsbakens continued to increase the acreage planted with sunflowers. And they noticed that every increase in the sunflower crop brought an increase in the number of people stopping along the road to take pictures of the beautiful sunflowers. So they decided it was time to hold some kind of event. In 2016, they created a few trails among the sunflowers and arranged to pull a wagonload of people through the fields to view the sunflowers in all their glory. Then they held the first annual Bergsbaken Farms’ Sunflower Fest. The two-day event attracted 1,500 visitors and a lot more visitors after the festival.
In 2017, they added kids’ activities and served food. That year, 8,000 people attended. In 2018, they expanded the festival to three days. This year, the Bergsbaken family held their fifth annual Sunflower Fest with added trails and viewing platforms, along with live music and sunflower-themed vendors. The only cost is a suggested $2 donation, which is collected in a box near the entrance to the fields. The family said they just enjoy seeing all the people smiling and having fun. And they allow folks to visit the fields in the days before and after the festival.
Bergsbaken Farms now grows at least 225 acres of sunflowers. According to Lee Bergsbaken, each acre can yield an average of 2,500 pounds of seeds, which are harvested in the fall. They are then cleaned, packaged in 30- or 50-pound bags, and sold at the farm.
If you like sunflowers, here are a few sunflower facts you might enjoy (taken from FTD’s ProFlowers website). Young sunflowers follow the sun from sunrise to sunset. Mature sunflowers face east, allowing them to attract up to five times more pollinators due to warming up faster than westward-facing plants.
Sunflowers are native to North America. The leading producer of sunflowers in the United States is North Dakota. And here’s a fascinating fact I learned in researching this topic: the head of a sunflower is made up of thousands of tiny flowers. And one more thing to know if you decide to visit the sunflower fields at Bergsbaken Farms next year or beyond: you can cut sunflowers to take home for a small fee, but they will last longer if you cut them in the morning.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Shunpiking To Heaven Backroads Blog
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Thursday, August 20, 2020
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Gardens at Agrace
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Four years ago at this time, our dad was nearing the end of his life at Agrace Hospice in Fitchburg, Wisconsin. On the evening of July 9, Ruth and I went to visit Dad. When we got there, however, the staff were working with him, so our stepmother grabbed a sandwich and we went out to one of the patios.
On a previous visit, I had noticed some very beautiful flowers outside Dad’s window and was impressed with Agrace for creating beauty to lighten the hearts of patients and their families.
So, Ruth sat on the patio and kept our stepmom company while I explored all the gardens around the complex. I found pink hydrangea bushes,
orange lilies,
blue hydrangea bushes,
yellow lilies,
and many other lily colors. The gardens were beautiful and they brightened up an otherwise sad time in our lives. We were grateful to Agrace for maintaining these wonderful gardens and for the care they gave our dad as he prepared to leave this world.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Four years ago at this time, our dad was nearing the end of his life at Agrace Hospice in Fitchburg, Wisconsin. On the evening of July 9, Ruth and I went to visit Dad. When we got there, however, the staff were working with him, so our stepmother grabbed a sandwich and we went out to one of the patios.
On a previous visit, I had noticed some very beautiful flowers outside Dad’s window and was impressed with Agrace for creating beauty to lighten the hearts of patients and their families.
So, Ruth sat on the patio and kept our stepmom company while I explored all the gardens around the complex. I found pink hydrangea bushes,
orange lilies,
blue hydrangea bushes,
yellow lilies,
and many other lily colors. The gardens were beautiful and they brightened up an otherwise sad time in our lives. We were grateful to Agrace for maintaining these wonderful gardens and for the care they gave our dad as he prepared to leave this world.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Saturday, May 13, 2017
The Old Porch
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
Sunday, May 14, is Mother’s Day and this story is dedicated to my mother, Dorothy Rose Barman Ringelstetter. Memories fade over time, so the storyteller in me might be embellishing things a bit, but it is mostly an accurate picture of how things were.
A well-worn path led from the driveway to the enclosed back porch of the old farmhouse on Elder Lane. The weathered wooden steps were often covered with dew in the early morning shade.
On one side of the porch steps, along the full length of the front of the house, was a colorful parade of flowers, each one opening up in its own time to the morning light. There were bright pink bleeding hearts, one of Mom’s favorites, usually blooming around Mother’s Day.
There were tulips of ivory, primrose, and crimson colors, waiting to be picked and admired in a bouquet of fresh flowers.
And delicate lilies of the valley surrounded all the other flowers and were a beautiful addition to a vase filled with spring flowers.
Shortly after the bleeding hearts and tulips had faded away, there were bright purple irises to brighten our days.
As spring gave way to summer, there were multi-colored gladiolas to enjoy.
On the other side of the steps, a white trellis leaned against the side of the porch. It was covered with periwinkle morning glories that had not yet acknowledged the dawn. A cool breeze often carried the sweet smell of the honeysuckle bush on that corner of the porch.
In the morning, after milking cows, feeding calves, and cleaning the barn, we would follow Dad into the old porch, eager to fill our hungry stomachs with a hearty breakfast. The heavy wooden screen door would slam behind us as we set down the galvanized milk pails full of fresh milk, slipped off our barn boots, and hung up our jackets.
In the mornings, the sun streamed into the east windows of the porch, flooding the wooden floorboards with warmth and splashing against the side of a dilapidated commode that stood just inside the door. The light oak veneer was peeling and faded from the southern exposure to the sun. The drawers were sticky and the handles were loose and mismatched. The top was covered with yellowed newspaper that was stuck to the commode in places. This ramshackle piece of furniture signaled the change in seasons as surely as did the change in the weather.
In the spring, plastic trays were crowded together on top of the newspaper, each one filled with seedlings that were bending toward the sunlight.
In the summer, it held boxes of fresh Georgia peaches, ripening in their crinkly pink tissues and waiting for the chance to drip down somebody’s chin. There were also tomatoes and pears ripening on the windowsills.
In the fall, a bushel basket or two of crisp Macintosh apples stood in the autumn sunlight, soon to be made into applesauce or apple crisp. And in the winter, hot pumpkin or apple pies warmed the top of the commode as they cooled in the chilly air.
Year ‘round, Mondays were wash days in the old porch. Luckily, the porch was pretty big because there were usually seven or eight piles of dirty clothes that had been separated by color and type. This was always the scene on wash day, when Mom started washing at the crack of dawn in order to get everything hung on the clothesline early enough to get dry before dusk.
Each pile would be washed in the wringer washing machine, pushed through the wringer to wring out the soapy water, rinsed by hand in the steel tub connected to the washing machine, tediously pushed through the wringer again (which had been swung from the washer to the steel rinsing tub) to wring out the rinse water, and then hung out to dry. I can still hear the sound of the wringer washing machine, wearily churning a load of heavy overalls.
And I can still remember how tired Mom looked sometimes, working on the farm and taking care of us and all of our needs. She worked from before sun-up until way past sun-down most days and she rarely complained. We owe a lot to her for all she did for us and for helping to shape us into the individuals we are today. This July, it will be 34 years since she left us. We know she is enjoying her rewards in heaven, but we still miss her very much.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes. Just click on the desired photo and look for the blue “BUY” button.
Sunday, May 14, is Mother’s Day and this story is dedicated to my mother, Dorothy Rose Barman Ringelstetter. Memories fade over time, so the storyteller in me might be embellishing things a bit, but it is mostly an accurate picture of how things were.
A well-worn path led from the driveway to the enclosed back porch of the old farmhouse on Elder Lane. The weathered wooden steps were often covered with dew in the early morning shade.
On one side of the porch steps, along the full length of the front of the house, was a colorful parade of flowers, each one opening up in its own time to the morning light. There were bright pink bleeding hearts, one of Mom’s favorites, usually blooming around Mother’s Day.
There were tulips of ivory, primrose, and crimson colors, waiting to be picked and admired in a bouquet of fresh flowers.
And delicate lilies of the valley surrounded all the other flowers and were a beautiful addition to a vase filled with spring flowers.
Shortly after the bleeding hearts and tulips had faded away, there were bright purple irises to brighten our days.
As spring gave way to summer, there were multi-colored gladiolas to enjoy.
On the other side of the steps, a white trellis leaned against the side of the porch. It was covered with periwinkle morning glories that had not yet acknowledged the dawn. A cool breeze often carried the sweet smell of the honeysuckle bush on that corner of the porch.
In the morning, after milking cows, feeding calves, and cleaning the barn, we would follow Dad into the old porch, eager to fill our hungry stomachs with a hearty breakfast. The heavy wooden screen door would slam behind us as we set down the galvanized milk pails full of fresh milk, slipped off our barn boots, and hung up our jackets.
In the mornings, the sun streamed into the east windows of the porch, flooding the wooden floorboards with warmth and splashing against the side of a dilapidated commode that stood just inside the door. The light oak veneer was peeling and faded from the southern exposure to the sun. The drawers were sticky and the handles were loose and mismatched. The top was covered with yellowed newspaper that was stuck to the commode in places. This ramshackle piece of furniture signaled the change in seasons as surely as did the change in the weather.
In the spring, plastic trays were crowded together on top of the newspaper, each one filled with seedlings that were bending toward the sunlight.
In the summer, it held boxes of fresh Georgia peaches, ripening in their crinkly pink tissues and waiting for the chance to drip down somebody’s chin. There were also tomatoes and pears ripening on the windowsills.
In the fall, a bushel basket or two of crisp Macintosh apples stood in the autumn sunlight, soon to be made into applesauce or apple crisp. And in the winter, hot pumpkin or apple pies warmed the top of the commode as they cooled in the chilly air.
Year ‘round, Mondays were wash days in the old porch. Luckily, the porch was pretty big because there were usually seven or eight piles of dirty clothes that had been separated by color and type. This was always the scene on wash day, when Mom started washing at the crack of dawn in order to get everything hung on the clothesline early enough to get dry before dusk.
Each pile would be washed in the wringer washing machine, pushed through the wringer to wring out the soapy water, rinsed by hand in the steel tub connected to the washing machine, tediously pushed through the wringer again (which had been swung from the washer to the steel rinsing tub) to wring out the rinse water, and then hung out to dry. I can still hear the sound of the wringer washing machine, wearily churning a load of heavy overalls.
And I can still remember how tired Mom looked sometimes, working on the farm and taking care of us and all of our needs. She worked from before sun-up until way past sun-down most days and she rarely complained. We owe a lot to her for all she did for us and for helping to shape us into the individuals we are today. This July, it will be 34 years since she left us. We know she is enjoying her rewards in heaven, but we still miss her very much.
Photos in this blog post can be purchased as wall art, paper prints, downloads, phone cases, and keepsakes by clicking on the photo. You will be taken to the gallery website where you will see a big blue "BUY" button. Or to see all photos available, click on the "Browse Galleries" button on the menu at the top of this page. Thank you for your interest!
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, and Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Monday, June 27, 2016
Dragonfly
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
In 2014, on the July 4th weekend, Ruth and I went for a long day of photographing to the northeast of Madison. Our family was going through some tough times then. Our brother Paul had died rather unexpectedly on June 4 followed by a lengthy hospital stay for our dad. So Ruth and I just needed to hit the backroads for a little stress relief.
As we often do, we left my house in the dark so we could start photographing at first light. We drove the 45 minutes to Old Fort Winnebago Cemetery near Portage, Wisconsin, and I took my first photograph of the day at 4:57 a.m.
We spent the next two hours photographing mostly churches and cemeteries in Columbia County and then crossed into Marquette County and spent the next three hours photographing more churches and cemeteries. Around 10:00 a.m., we entered Green Lake County and were soon in the small town of Kingston to photograph the historic Kingston House supper club, which began its life in 1846 as a hotel.
I parked the car across the street from the Kingston House, and began to set up my tripod to photograph it. As I was aiming my camera at the supper club building, I heard the clip-clop of a horse nearby and quickly focused my camera in another direction to capture an Amish man riding behind a trotting horse.
It was nearly 1:00 p.m. when we crossed into Fond du Lac County. I photographed a few farms and an old stone church and then we stopped for a picnic lunch around 2:00 p.m. After lunch, we entered Dodge County and spent a couple of hours photographing farms and cemeteries, along with a depot, a grain elevator, and a lumber building.
At some point, we stopped to fill up the gas tank and I went into the convenience store to use the restroom. When I returned to the car, the following conversation took place:
Ruth: “Wow, that’s really weird.”
Joann: “What’s weird?”
Ruth: “That’s the second time.”
Joann: “The second time for what?”
Ruth: “When you were out by the gas pump, a dragonfly came into the car.”
Joann: “What do you mean about it being the second time?”
Ruth: “Early this morning, when you were out photographing in Kingston, two blue dragonflies were buzzing around the car and one of them flew into the car. And now, another dragonfly came into the car.”
Joann: “That IS weird. Hey, maybe Paul is sending us dragonflies to let us know he’s okay and that he hears us when we talk about him.”
Dragonflies are associated with the symbolic meaning of change and transformation, along with joy and lightness of being. And some say our loved ones who have crossed over may send us signs through butterflies, dragonflies, rainbows, cloud formations, etc. So we decided it was Paul letting us know he was fishing up in heaven like he loved to do when he was here on earth.
It was almost 4:30 p.m. when we crossed into Washington County and after 6:00 p.m. when we entered Ozaukee County. This was as far northeast as we had planned to go, but there was still much to photograph. I worked quickly and we finished capturing most of the subjects on our list. Then we headed to Stony Hill School and enjoyed a peaceful picnic supper on the school grounds.
It was around 7:30 p.m. by the time we finished our supper, so we knew we’d better get started on the 2-hour drive home. About 8:40 p.m., we passed through the city of West Bend and the daylight was waning. As we sat at a stoplight, I realized that we had planned to make it to West Bend with enough daylight to visit a labyrinth garden where the grassy pathway is lined with flowers, herbs, and ornamental grasses.
As I expressed my disappointment to Ruth, she said, “Well, do you want to at least go take a quick look at it to see if it’s worth returning? I think we’re near it.” I responded, “Yes!” so she told me to take a right and we headed to Regen Park, where the labyrinth is located. I quickly parked the car in the nearest parking lot, grabbed my equipment, and literally ran back to the labyrinth, which is called Labyrinth Garden Earth Sculpture.
I entered through the arched gate and began to quickly size up the layout to see what I could capture in the few minutes of daylight that were left. It was a large labyrinth with mowed pathways between rows of beautiful flowers. I found out later that it was designed in the tradition of a seven-circuit Cretan labyrinth and it is 90 feet in diameter.
I took several shots along the pathway and then pulled in close on a couple patches of beautiful Asiatic Lilies.
As the light was getting almost too dim to photograph, I saw some beautiful Calla Lilies that I wanted to see if I could capture as the last photos of the day. I lowered my tripod and snapped a close-up of one Calla Lily.
As I reframed for another capture, I saw an orange glow reflecting on my LCD screen on the back of the camera. I guess the Universe had other ideas about what should be my last photos of the day. As I turned around, I was stunned to see a huge dragonfly sculpture silhouetted against a beautiful sunset.
I stood for a few seconds, mesmerized by the bigger-than-life message from my brother, Paul. All is well and the Universe is a beautiful place, both here and on the other side. Since that time, I’ve had some wonderful encounters with dragonflies. Thank you, Paul, for continuing to send them as a reminder of your beautiful soul.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
In 2014, on the July 4th weekend, Ruth and I went for a long day of photographing to the northeast of Madison. Our family was going through some tough times then. Our brother Paul had died rather unexpectedly on June 4 followed by a lengthy hospital stay for our dad. So Ruth and I just needed to hit the backroads for a little stress relief.
As we often do, we left my house in the dark so we could start photographing at first light. We drove the 45 minutes to Old Fort Winnebago Cemetery near Portage, Wisconsin, and I took my first photograph of the day at 4:57 a.m.
We spent the next two hours photographing mostly churches and cemeteries in Columbia County and then crossed into Marquette County and spent the next three hours photographing more churches and cemeteries. Around 10:00 a.m., we entered Green Lake County and were soon in the small town of Kingston to photograph the historic Kingston House supper club, which began its life in 1846 as a hotel.
I parked the car across the street from the Kingston House, and began to set up my tripod to photograph it. As I was aiming my camera at the supper club building, I heard the clip-clop of a horse nearby and quickly focused my camera in another direction to capture an Amish man riding behind a trotting horse.
It was nearly 1:00 p.m. when we crossed into Fond du Lac County. I photographed a few farms and an old stone church and then we stopped for a picnic lunch around 2:00 p.m. After lunch, we entered Dodge County and spent a couple of hours photographing farms and cemeteries, along with a depot, a grain elevator, and a lumber building.
At some point, we stopped to fill up the gas tank and I went into the convenience store to use the restroom. When I returned to the car, the following conversation took place:
Ruth: “Wow, that’s really weird.”
Joann: “What’s weird?”
Ruth: “That’s the second time.”
Joann: “The second time for what?”
Ruth: “When you were out by the gas pump, a dragonfly came into the car.”
Joann: “What do you mean about it being the second time?”
Ruth: “Early this morning, when you were out photographing in Kingston, two blue dragonflies were buzzing around the car and one of them flew into the car. And now, another dragonfly came into the car.”
Joann: “That IS weird. Hey, maybe Paul is sending us dragonflies to let us know he’s okay and that he hears us when we talk about him.”
Dragonflies are associated with the symbolic meaning of change and transformation, along with joy and lightness of being. And some say our loved ones who have crossed over may send us signs through butterflies, dragonflies, rainbows, cloud formations, etc. So we decided it was Paul letting us know he was fishing up in heaven like he loved to do when he was here on earth.
It was almost 4:30 p.m. when we crossed into Washington County and after 6:00 p.m. when we entered Ozaukee County. This was as far northeast as we had planned to go, but there was still much to photograph. I worked quickly and we finished capturing most of the subjects on our list. Then we headed to Stony Hill School and enjoyed a peaceful picnic supper on the school grounds.
It was around 7:30 p.m. by the time we finished our supper, so we knew we’d better get started on the 2-hour drive home. About 8:40 p.m., we passed through the city of West Bend and the daylight was waning. As we sat at a stoplight, I realized that we had planned to make it to West Bend with enough daylight to visit a labyrinth garden where the grassy pathway is lined with flowers, herbs, and ornamental grasses.
As I expressed my disappointment to Ruth, she said, “Well, do you want to at least go take a quick look at it to see if it’s worth returning? I think we’re near it.” I responded, “Yes!” so she told me to take a right and we headed to Regen Park, where the labyrinth is located. I quickly parked the car in the nearest parking lot, grabbed my equipment, and literally ran back to the labyrinth, which is called Labyrinth Garden Earth Sculpture.
I entered through the arched gate and began to quickly size up the layout to see what I could capture in the few minutes of daylight that were left. It was a large labyrinth with mowed pathways between rows of beautiful flowers. I found out later that it was designed in the tradition of a seven-circuit Cretan labyrinth and it is 90 feet in diameter.
I took several shots along the pathway and then pulled in close on a couple patches of beautiful Asiatic Lilies.
As the light was getting almost too dim to photograph, I saw some beautiful Calla Lilies that I wanted to see if I could capture as the last photos of the day. I lowered my tripod and snapped a close-up of one Calla Lily.
As I reframed for another capture, I saw an orange glow reflecting on my LCD screen on the back of the camera. I guess the Universe had other ideas about what should be my last photos of the day. As I turned around, I was stunned to see a huge dragonfly sculpture silhouetted against a beautiful sunset.
I stood for a few seconds, mesmerized by the bigger-than-life message from my brother, Paul. All is well and the Universe is a beautiful place, both here and on the other side. Since that time, I’ve had some wonderful encounters with dragonflies. Thank you, Paul, for continuing to send them as a reminder of your beautiful soul.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
The Elusive Yellow Lady’s Slipper
By Joann M. Ringelstetter
For the past twelve years, I’ve been on a fruitless search for Yellow Lady’s Slippers, which the previous owner told me grew in the woods surrounding my home. According to the USDA Forest Service, this flower is found “from the eastern United States and Canada west to the Rocky Mountains and north to Yukon and Alaska.”
The Yellow Lady’s Slipper is a member of the Orchid family and it “grows in a variety of habitats from shady, damp forest understory of mixed deciduous and coniferous forests to open meadows and along streams.” However, it didn’t seem to be growing in the understory near my home, in spite of what the previous owner had said.
Over the years, I’ve enjoyed the white flowers of the Bloodroot plant, whose common name refers to the red juice of the underground stem that was used by Native Americans as a dye. Bloodroot blooms briefly and is one of the earliest to appear in the spring.
As I write this, I can see Wild Geraniums growing at the edge of the woods. These beautiful light purple flowers bloom for several weeks from late spring to early summer.
Early this spring, I discovered another patch of Dutchman’s Breeches in my woods that I didn’t know existed. This plant gets its name from its dangling flowers that look like little upside-down pantaloons.
Up the hill in the woods behind my house, there is a large patch of Red Trillium, which are also called Stinking Benjamin due to their unpleasant odor. I photographed snow on Red Trillium in early May, 2004.
The woods is also full of large, beautiful Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants. Their large green flowers are cylindrical and hooded, with brown stripes.
I’ve walked my woods every spring for the past twelve years, but I never came across any Yellow Lady’s Slippers….until a week ago. I was patrolling the woods for invasive garlic mustard plants and, after walking almost half of the property, I discovered one lone Yellow Lady’s Slipper.
I had bent down to pull some garlic mustard and when I looked up, a small spot of bright yellow caught my eye. I’m sure my mouth dropped open as I marveled at finding this beautiful elusive flower that I had looked for every spring for the past twelve years.
There is an old Ojibwa legend about a woman who travels to the next village in the snow to get medicine for the people of her village who are suffering from a terrible disease. The next morning, the villagers hear her cries and find her collapsed in the snow, her feet bloody and frostbitten, but with the life-saving medicine in her bundle. The men carry her back to the village and wrap her feet in warm deerskins. When she dies, the deerskin wrappings become little yellow flowers called Lady’s Slippers.
I hope you have a chance to see this beautiful little flower some spring day when you least expect it.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
For the past twelve years, I’ve been on a fruitless search for Yellow Lady’s Slippers, which the previous owner told me grew in the woods surrounding my home. According to the USDA Forest Service, this flower is found “from the eastern United States and Canada west to the Rocky Mountains and north to Yukon and Alaska.”
The Yellow Lady’s Slipper is a member of the Orchid family and it “grows in a variety of habitats from shady, damp forest understory of mixed deciduous and coniferous forests to open meadows and along streams.” However, it didn’t seem to be growing in the understory near my home, in spite of what the previous owner had said.
Over the years, I’ve enjoyed the white flowers of the Bloodroot plant, whose common name refers to the red juice of the underground stem that was used by Native Americans as a dye. Bloodroot blooms briefly and is one of the earliest to appear in the spring.
As I write this, I can see Wild Geraniums growing at the edge of the woods. These beautiful light purple flowers bloom for several weeks from late spring to early summer.
Early this spring, I discovered another patch of Dutchman’s Breeches in my woods that I didn’t know existed. This plant gets its name from its dangling flowers that look like little upside-down pantaloons.
Up the hill in the woods behind my house, there is a large patch of Red Trillium, which are also called Stinking Benjamin due to their unpleasant odor. I photographed snow on Red Trillium in early May, 2004.
The woods is also full of large, beautiful Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants. Their large green flowers are cylindrical and hooded, with brown stripes.
I’ve walked my woods every spring for the past twelve years, but I never came across any Yellow Lady’s Slippers….until a week ago. I was patrolling the woods for invasive garlic mustard plants and, after walking almost half of the property, I discovered one lone Yellow Lady’s Slipper.
I had bent down to pull some garlic mustard and when I looked up, a small spot of bright yellow caught my eye. I’m sure my mouth dropped open as I marveled at finding this beautiful elusive flower that I had looked for every spring for the past twelve years.
There is an old Ojibwa legend about a woman who travels to the next village in the snow to get medicine for the people of her village who are suffering from a terrible disease. The next morning, the villagers hear her cries and find her collapsed in the snow, her feet bloody and frostbitten, but with the life-saving medicine in her bundle. The men carry her back to the village and wrap her feet in warm deerskins. When she dies, the deerskin wrappings become little yellow flowers called Lady’s Slippers.
I hope you have a chance to see this beautiful little flower some spring day when you least expect it.
Happy Shunpiking!
Joann
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