A wet Spring for the Sawtooths. Hills were the greenest I have ever seen them. Green Green, carpets of yellow flowers, arrow-leafed Balsam root, and blues. Just like Robin Kimmerer described in her Braiding Sweetgrass — the predominant colors of wildflowers. But look more closely: scarlet gilia, small reddish peonies, Larkspur of different hues, lupine from off white and small to taller blue too, clarkia, lots of different ribes, Indian paint brush just peeking out, star lily, bog irises. AND, the carpets of blue camas had me scratching my head — water or lilies??? How to tell, such a rich, deep blue. What a riot of beauty and grace.
It was clear to me what had been erased from the landscape upon this visit. Usually I visit later the Sun Valley where old friends have been living since the 1970s. When its drier, you miss the many plants that provided sustenance to the native peoples, the bulbs and onions, the leaves and woody twigs. To the untrained eye, the landscape looks fairly barren, but that is deceptive, only so for the ignorant. The Wood River and tributaries this year were high, raging with water — for now. Luxurious to experience this abundance, when much of the rest of the West is now so dry, a tinderbox. It even thundered and rained, lightning close, a dangerous thrill.
Remarkable how the First Peoples have been disappeared from memories and landscapes. Historical markers mostly commemorate the bravery of the settlers in the face of adversity, and the Indians. A sad landscape, actually, depauperate of its rich diversity over the past 2 centuries, but invisible to the uninitiated.
I felt so lucky to witness this abundance, an abundance that fed people’s bellies and souls once.
