The Deep Gloom of the Blue Gentian

Because of all the rain we received in early summer, it’s been a banner year for flowers. One of the best spots is the Fourth of July trail west of Nederland, which steeply ascends to Arapahoe Pass. Rock and snow slides have left these hillsides open, and purple monkshood, white cow parsnip, bluebells and harebells, pink fireweed (right) and yellow sunflowers crowd each other. This profusion of color is framed by the dark somber pine trees and even darker mountains to the west. It seems a perfect landscape, filled with every conceivable color and form, one ripe for a painting or photo. It’s easy to forget that these flowers do not bloom for us but have another purpose: reproduction, all of them jostling for the attention of bees or hummingbirds to spread their pollen.

 

I love to follow the progression of the flowers through the season, starting with the pasqueflower, the first one to appear in spring just when the snow is melting, and ending now with the blue and green gentians. So dark is the blue gentian that D.H. Lawrence called it a “deep blue gloom.”

 

One of my best wildflower sightings this summer was the calypso orchid, a secretive flower that has an old-fashioned intricate beauty. Last June, I was hiking in Wild Basin in the southern edge of Rocky Mountain National Park up to Calypso Cascades, named for the orchid. As I was coming down, I realized I hadn’t seen any of the orchids, which are only a few inches high. Just as I had that thought, I saw two men crouched by the side of the trail, admiring something. Could it be? Yes, a whole clump of orchids. And since I was alert for them, I found an even bigger clump shortly down the trail, hiding in the dark woods, tucked among the piles of pine needles, glowing like little candles.  

 

And while other flowers have their moment in the sun and then fade away, the columbine just climbs higher with the season. In July, it’s growing at 8,500 feet at my cabin, but in late August I found the flowers above 10,000 feet on Pawnee Pass, taking refuge on the windswept tundra among the boulders, where water is collected and they are protected from the winds. The columbine, like the orchid, looks as if were designed by an artist, with its carefully layered purple and white flowers, and the protruding spiral, like an exclamation point. They are most beautiful at this high altitude, because their lush beauty stands out in contrast to the harshness of the boulders.

 

And now, with winter returning to the high country, the blue and green gentians emerge. While most other flowers have gone to seed—their dried husks all that’s left—and the meadows are shades of yellow, brown and red, the gentians start to flower, as if they had all the time in the world, as if it weren’t the end of the summer and snow will start falling in a few weeks. So I’ll take my cue from the gentians and pretend that I, too, have all the time in the world to enjoy the high peaks and that summer will never end.

Comments

[Barb]

Your Gentian photo is wonderful. I also saw the calypso this spring - a real treat because a heavy frost the next day destroyed them. Enjoy fall - leaves are turning yellow here in Breckenridge.

[sally]

Kathy, your flower pics are really beautiful!! Wish I had seen those columbines when I was there last year!! Really loved the flowers with the mtns in the background! You are one lucky lady being so close tom the mtns.

[shoney]

The wildflowers have been stunning this year. What an abundance of them! And so long-lasting.
Thank you for your reflection and of course, the photos.