mysteries

 Yesterday I walked a section of the Ira Creek looking for Japanese Knotweed, an invasive species that has established a beachhead here in Ira. It was grueling work, walking over rocks large and small. Much of the time I was walking in the stream. The rocks in the stream were covered with moss and were very slippery. I fell a few times and got pretty wet, banged up one of my elbows pretty good. Allyn found sand in my pockets when she washed my clothes.

So I was pretty bedraggled as I headed back home along the road which follows the stream. When I was almost home I noticed something in the grass.

What a beautiful flower and one I had never seen before. My Plantnet app said it was probably Alpine Columbine, native to European mountains, but not here. As happens sometimes, I was filled with an emotion I could feel but could not name. It was something like awe and deep questioning. Where did these come from? They were partly in a roadside ditch. Did someone plant them somewhere upstream, and did some of the seeds end up here? I'll never know.

It was very similar to the feeling I have when I am up in the woods behind our house in November when I am putting up No Hunting signs. There are stone walls there that once provided a separation that no longer exists, no longer matters to anyone.

This back breaking work was done by people lost to history. There are stories buried here that will never be told, just like the beautiful purple flowers in the ditch along the road. I'm glad I live in a place where secret histories are revealed, but never explained.