The Mudflats

I’ve mentioned before what a joy it is in the summer here in Alaska.  After months on end where the outside eye sees nothing but white, grey, dark grey, ecru, eggshell, off-white, beige, brown, bright white….(you get the idea), we’ve finally hit the season of color.  Mid-June is probably the most colorful of all.  I’ve been watching the rose buds swell, waiting for them to bloom, and now, looking out over the wooded hillside near my house, it is speckled with pink as far as the eye can see, as though someone threw confetti.  As the eye adjusts, patches of blue, and then white, and finally yellow become noticeable.

The weather has been a little odd lately.  You’re never sure if it’s going to rain, or if the sun will break through. 

Today was more on the rainy side, so instead of taking a hike, I took a short stroll just to catch all of the June flora at its height of perfection. 

This, I believe, is a yellow cinquefoil.  I used to go hiking with a dear friend, who has passed away, and knew lots about flowers and plants of the area.  Once on a hike over the Resurrection trail, I pointed to something that looked like this and asked her what it was.  “Ah,” she said, “That’s a DYF.”  She said it so it sounded like deewyeff.  I told her I’d never heard of that before.  Only then did she crack a grin and say, “Damn yellow flower.”  There are so many dyfs, it’s frustrating even for ‘flower people’ to try to keep them straight.

These are one of my favorite flowers – the wild geranium.  It is ubiquitous this time of year, and it seems to me so much more delicate and beautiful than the ‘domesticated’ version of a geranium that we know today.   Some years they seem more saturated with color.  This one is a little pale, but still lovely.

The Sitka rose.  In addition to speckling my view with pink confetti, the sitka rose fills the air with its sweet perfume.  When you put one near your nose, close your eyes, and inhale deeply, it’s like getting a free gift.  I’d take a few of these in a glass over a dozen long stem roses with no smell any day.  Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.  If I were a creepy little fly, I’d be the one in the background, right in the middle, rolling around in the pollen, having the time of my life.

The regular tall version of fireweed isn’t ready to bloom yet.  It’s still in it’s ‘hurry-up-and-get-tall’ green phase.  I usually don’t get any fireweed blooming by the house, because Brian the moose loves the stuff and eats it all before it has a chance to bloom.  But this little patch of dwarf fireweed only grows about a foot or so off the ground, and is right up against the house.  So far it has survived, and the patch grows larger every year, which is fine by me.  Weed or not, I love it.

Speaking of weeds….the horsetail grass is fully grown now, and it grows in long swaths along the edge of the road.  I know I should dislike it, and it is a pain in the neck in the garden, but when the breeze blows over it, it looks like shimmering emerald waves and I can’t help but like it in a certain way.

And, of course, the lowly dandelion.  Alaskan dandelions are a phenomenon.  The long hours of daylight turn them into gargantuan, monstrous things that leave visitors to the state gawking.  I measured one in my yard yesterday.  It stood 16 inches tall and the flower was 2 1/2 inches across.  We’re on our second crop of dandelions at the moment.  Some are blooming in all their freakishly huge glory.

And others are just about to cast off their last little bit of DNA into the wind.

Of course there are dozens of other species around, blooming their hearts out, but I’ll save them for another day.