During one of my outside-between-rain-showers-adventures I went on a “little” hike -- in search of Lady Slipper orchids. My friend Cathy had told me of a simple path that was full of them, so Mark and I decided to go explore one Sunday. We wandered to and fro, exclaiming with delight at all the Lady Slippers we discovered. Here a clump, there a clump, everywhere a clump-clump. It was truly amazing how many we saw.
Mixed in with our Lady Slipper sightings were the occasional Trillium—what my dad Willis always referred to as “Easter Lilies,” and in my heart, I still call them that. Some had already begun to turn lavender, but many of them were still that fresh, clean white of a new bloom. Each new discovery was a joy.
Like Hansel and Gretel, we wandered on and on, over hill and dale; up hill, and uphill, and up more hills-- until I finally figured out that Mark was cleverly using my love of Lady Slippers to counteract my strong dislike of “elevation gain.”
If you’ve ever hiked with me, you know I prefer the kind of hikes where “elevation gained” does not interfere with my ability to tell stories, i.e. make me gasp for air. I like gentle hikes—actually I prefer the term “walks”—and long stories. Mark had outwitted me by using the lure of “the next patch” of Lady Slippers so well that it was only when we were headed down that I noticed that the path was kind of steep and had been “up” most of the way. He’s very clever like that.
What he might not realize is that two people can play that game. While he was coaxing me ever upward with blossom after blossom, I was slowing him down by pointing out various bits of flora and fauna—actually I don’t remember seeing any fauna; all that storytelling had provided them ample warning of our advance. But any unusual flora was enough to stop his otherwise relentless ascent.
 |
| Look at that moss! Looks fern-like, doesn't it? |
As a photographer, he loves to capture unique angles and framing just the right shot often interrupts his version of the Bataan death march, so I have learned to keep my head on a swivel and my eyes peeled. Together, we combined our personal gifts to hike nearly eight miles—most of it uphill both ways-- photograph various bits of moss and fern and fungi, all without the other noticing how high we’d climbed or how slowly we’d done it.
 |
| Look at the texture of that bark! |
Win/win, not winded.
 |
| Spring Sky |
