New England Flower Show

On my first trip to the New England Flower Show I took over three hundred photos. That was my goal—photographs. I found the experience a bit cramping. Flowers, for me, belong outdoors—of course, there are those indoor plants. But I am most at one with those blooms I happen upon.

There's a hike I take every June when I'm up in Maine—at some point when I'm on the trail I begin to look for a wild iris. I always find the iris in a clearing surrounded by slabs of rock.

And who hasn't thrilled to a field of trillium?

A number of years ago we were hiking in the alpine fields leading to the arduous hike up Mt. Rainier. As far as we could see a kaleidoscope of wildflowers blanketed the area.

And who has not marveled when a humming bird hovers above a flower or watched a butterfly land on a stem or delighted upon finding a patch of crocheted Queen Anne's Lace?

I hold my breath when I pass wild beach roses. Once while walking around Sandy Pond I found a Lady Slipper at the peak of her bloom.


The blue and purple lupines greet me in Maine and welcome me to their landscape. Soon the crocus and the daffodils we planted years ago will tentatively announce spring.

Compared to the delight of flowers found unexpectedly— an indoor display pales.