A conversation with a Fawn Lily

Duckabush River Trail, 5/3/08, 10 miles, 1200 Elevation

I slowly stepped along the trail creeping up Big Hump, the large hill between me and our groups' turn around point. The group had long ago left me behind, faster uphills than I could ever imagine myself going. Our co-leader lagged behind me so as not to give me any undue pressure to push myself harder than I'd be capable to sustain. It was a quiet respite after the chattering of the group - all I heard over my breathe were the sounds of water tumultuously rushing downhill and the far-off call of a male grouse.

As I climbed higher, the low-lying clouds began to form a dense thicket of fog around the trees, filtering the light to a low glow reminiscent of an ordinary December Day. But this was May, on the Olympic Peninsula. I have often started out on a trail in full glory of the sun only to be drenched to the bone by the time I turned around and dry again when I reached the car. There is no telling what a spring hike on the peninsula will give you. And visual treats were what I could expect today.

It was about this time, as I was thinking of the clouds and the changes in the forest as I climbed higher into the clouds, that I spotted the first of them. "Oh my," I thought. "Is that what I think it is?" My curiosity propelled my feet further up the hill at a slightly faster pace. As I turned the next switchback, there my suspicions were laid to rest - handfuls of Fawn Lilies lined the hillside above the trail, their white heads bowed low with moisture over their mottled leaves. "Hello my pretties," I breathed as I slowly walked past eager to walk amongst these little gems but not wanting to pass too quickly. They seemed to sparkle in the dark grey of the day. Other flowers awaited me further up the hill, and I was excited to see each one in turn - Chocolate Lily, Flowering Red Current, Small Blue-Eyed Mary, Penstemon, mini-monkeyflowers. Little jewels against the murky day.

We were well within the cloud as wee reached the peak and traveled along a moss-lined trail through the woods. My pace quickened here to stay with the rest of the group who had waited for us at the top of the hill. And in the murky cloud where little light made its way through the thick cloud and the forest canopy, our way was lit by the vibrant green of moss along the trail, which seemed to glow from a source all its own. The chattering again picked up, but I found refuge in the quiet of the climb accompanied by the sounds of the river and a happy grouse and my own short conversation with the Fawn Lily.