My uncle stopped by while I was weeding in the garden, and informed me that there were wild irises in a little hollow a few minutes walk away. I had found a bunch at Buzzard’s Roost a couple of weeks ago, but I had only seen a few on our property, mostly wilted. Sure enough, following a familiar draw, unbelievably lush this time of year, there were a few dozen wild irises, scattered here and there like gems.
Although I’m somewhat better able to control myself when other people are hiking or walking with me, when I’m by myself I have this uncontrollable compulsion to look at every single flower I catch a glimpse of. So I zigzagged my way along a faint trail, where my uncle had driven to check fencing and do other ranch maintenance.
Irises, also known as western blue flag, are complicated-looking flowers, with an exotic structure and beautiful patterns on the petals that look like watercolor painting. Other irises I had found this spring were somewhat washed-out or faded in appearance, which perhaps they were. These ones, though, had no shortage of vivid color.
There were other wildflowers beginning to be in abundance, wallflowers and fleabane, and a false dandelion which was an exciting find – But the blue flags were the highlight.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
A Hike Just Wouldn’t Be Complete…
In all the hiking I’ve done, I’ve gotten my share of ticks on me – However, I’m always quite vigilant and brush them off before they can embed. Not so today. We got back from a hike and had just sat down to dinner when I found the first one on my wrist, of all places, stuck tight. Found another on my other arm. Dad singed both of those ticks off without much ado, even though I was completely disgusted. All of us did tick checks and let the friends we had hiked with know, so they could check for ticks as well. Just a friendly head’s up. After dinner, I started thinking about my head. Mom kindly did a scalp check, which brought back lice memories, and, sure enough, there was a third. I wasn’t too excited when Dad brought over the box of matches to singe that one off!
No one else had any. I guess I was the lucky one. A hike just wouldn’t be complete without ticks.
Harney Peak Frosted
Even a drive home after cleaning at church can dazzle and amaze. Here at home, there wasn’t even the slightest bit of frost. But in the higher elevations around Mount Rushmore and Harney Peak, the frost and snow suddenly began. I drove in sleety rain for a very little while, and Harney Peak was veiled in fog. On the way home, however, the clouds had rolled back, leaving the peak frosted white. Even under a cloudy sky, the whitened trees and rocks were dazzling white – How wonderful they would have been under a clear blue sky!
If it hadn’t been for the rain and damp, today would have been a great day to climb to the top of Harney Peak!
Nostalgia
In places like the Black Hills, glimpses of and participation in the past are not uncommon – History and its memory is kept alive in the tumbledown buildings scattered throughout the hills and plains, and some have worked to maintain those historical structures. Historic livelihoods are still flourishing. Historic ways of doing things are still practiced. I love catching glimpses which remind me of how the hundred-year-old past must have looked. Such as this washbasin in the window of our Miner’s Cabin.
nostalgia – noun nos·tal·gia \nä-ˈstal-jə
1 : the state of being homesick
2 : a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition
3 : pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing that you could experience it again
Amazing how one can feel nostalgic, homesick, for a time one hasn’t even experienced.


