Wildflowers and Lilies of the Valley

In the years when I was physically unable to push the mower, the lawn went uncut until the first growth reached thigh high. Then I first saw the lawn break open in wildflowers: fleabane, tall and delicate; some spiky, purple-blossomed, probably invasive plant with dark purple-green leaves; a bitter kind of vigorous, wild strawberry with heart leaves and a tiny yellow flower. The plant that bears the berries that I like to eat has white flowers, open and generous. But here are these, too, the tiny yellow ones that later will bear a hard, bitter fruit. This morning I sat in my chair reading. Pausing to consider, I looked out on the wildflowers, the arrangement of them by no human hand. Now I, too, delay the first mowing until after the first full bloom.

Jack-in-the-Pulpit stands high near the fern beds east of the house. Some authorities recognize one species of Jack, others three. I only know some are short with thin stems, and others grow tall and have stems as thick as my largest, most arthritic finger. So pale white green, and supple, they are much more lovely than that.

Lily of the Valley grow around several trees, leaping out as if they, too, are wildflowers, and perhaps they are in this particular environment. I read on Wikipedia that lily-of-the-valley is used as a food plant by the larvae of some moth and butterfly species. They spread and grow out from one rhizome. I primarily know them from my direct experience with them. In this season they scent all the air with such a sweet, fresh smell.