For two and a half miles, I couldn’t enjoy views of the mountain pine forest, because I was staring at the ground. You see, Fairy Slipper Orchids are elusive, thriving in barren leaf litter, and I couldn’t raise my eyes for even a bit, or I miss one!
I was on a mission: June is native orchid time in the Sandia Mountains near where I live, and ever since living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I’ve been frankly a little crazy about tracking cycles of wildflower appearances and catching them as they arise. In the Bay Area, it’s a rich, months-long season starting in March. In Northern New Mexico, the season is a lot shorter, starts a lot later, and features a lot fewer flowers. So, you have to be on it!
I hiked and stared. It was a little odd — it had been a while since I’d been able to be on a hike at all, with so much busyness at work in May, and here I was staring at mostly barren ground, with so much lush spring beauty around me to be enjoyed. At least I was accompanied by the sounds of tens of happy bird species, returned to the cool, food-rich environment for the summer. Ruby-Crowned Kinglets, Green-Tailed Towhees, and Hermit Thrushes were especially assertive and joyful.
And…no Fairy Slippers. Not a one. I’d seen them last year on the same trail; maybe I’d come out too
early? Argh, all the way to the top of the North Crest, and no orchids to be seen! I was a bit crestfallen, and strangely, even hurt — how could the universe deprive me, when I’d worked so hard?
I got the far end of the trail, and connected with the trail that would wind me back to my car. Needless to say, regardless, it was a lovely hike, although the meadows that this trail featured were no more ready to show spring flowers than the forested one. Ah well, the ache of orchid-less-ness lingered, but I’m philosophical enough not to get stuck there. Nature does what nature does.
Then, on the final leg, on a little spur on the other side of the main road, a surprise: a field of delicate wild irises! What an unexpected delight! No, not secretive little Fairy Slippers; instead, showy, in-your-face, rather extroverted irises, one of my favorite flowers of all. And a sweet reminder of so many similar irises seen throughout the Bay Area, especially my dear Point Reyes.
How could I be disappointed? Life was again proving to me it’s abundance, just not in the way I’d planned. Flowers, which in the grand scheme of things, are, well, just flowers, nonetheless pointed me to something more profound, something that teaches me, again, the possibility of a life well lived, even in the face of heart-breaking disappointments.
This is not to dismiss the pain of severe disappointment. In fact, in allowing myself to grieve the missed orchids, just a tiny bit, the necessity of hurt and grief, even its sweetness and gift. It points to what we care about, and that when what we care about doesn’t manifest, it matters. This is by no means an invitation to bypassing, as we’ve come appropriately to call it. But instead to travel the ENTIRE journey, the grief and the unexpected gift. To really be “in” it, vulnerable, receptive, creative in our observations, and ready to share.
When have you been surprised by the gift following a grief, whether minor or major? I’d love to hear your stories! Please share on my blog below.
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