Flower Chasers

April 21, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

Barely across the border from southeastern Minnesota into Wisconsin, a rustic dirt road winds along, the land sloping steeply up on one side and flattening out on the other. Here springtime native wildflowers bloom in so much diversity and abundance that we make several trips each spring just to see them unfolding.

The Monday after Easter was one of those trips on a chilly, breezy morning after a night of rain that made the damp moss on boulders almost glow. Ramps greened the hillsides. Hepatica bloomed, some purple, some white, all cheerful. Birds trilled. A stream emerged from a spring, forming a pool on one side of the road to rush away on the other side.

The hillsides were all posted No Trespassing, but even from the road we had our fill of flower chasing, wandering slowly along, soaking up the fresh air, buds, and blossoms. Pink Virginia spring beauty flowers sprinkled among last year’s dried leaves, waiting for sun to fully open. Bloodroot leaves still wrapped around their stems, several trout lily buds were close to blooming, and a few Dutchman’s breeches had already hung out their pantaloons out. Wild ginger leaves unfolded, at least one plant with a dark red velvety blossom. Mayapples were appearing, some barely poking out of the ground like white dots at the ends of tightly wound cylinders, others a few inches tall and beginning to spread their umbrellas of leaves. Sometimes the day seemed so steeped in stillness it was as though we could hear the flowers and trees and mosses growing.

We wandered blissfully along the road, spotting familiar flower faces and at least one new-to-us plant with thready yellow flowers that we identified as plantain leaved sedge (also called seersucker sedge). No matter how many times we’ve come down to this rustic road, we always see something new.

What we didn’t find was any sign yet of the many, many trillium flowers we’ve seen here before, so abundant that local people call this the valley of a trillion trilliums. (See note below about the upcoming Trillium Festival in the area.)

On the way home we crossed back into Minnesota to visit Kellogg Weaver Dunes where, scattered among last year’s dried grasses, the small white cheery flowers of lyre-leaved rock cress bloomed. A low-growing flower with a shiny yellow sheen turned out to be prairie buttercup, another new-to-us flower. Puccoon leaves were emerging, some still tiny nubs in the ground. Pasqueflowers, some past their prime, a few still fresh-looking, unfurled soft pale purple petals.

A richness of roadsides, a prairie beginning its bloom–wherever we find flowers, we are grateful for wild places. Flowers don’t stop at borders, and neither do we.

The second weekend in May the Rustic Road area will hold its annual Trillium Festival with trillium viewing, a native plant sale, maple syrup tasting, nature trails, and a ticketed event on Friday May 9 with guest speaker Douglas Tallamy, author of Nature’s Best Hope and Bringing Nature Home. For more information visit TRILLIUMFESTIVAL.ORG.

March 14- April 3, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

We’ve been chasing spring for several weeks now, searching for snow trillium and pasqueflower, both very early bloomers. On a sunny, warm day in the middle of March we found the tiny green tips of two snow trillium plants poking up along a trail in Bloomington, one shoot no bigger than a grain of rice. Soon, we told ourselves, soon it would be spring.

Heartened, we headed on down to River Terrace Prairie Scientific and Natural Area (SNA) near Cannon Falls where pasqueflowers bloom each spring on a sandy and gravelly hillside. Dried grass almost hid the trail up to the pasqueflowers, where we found tiny, huddled nests of furry, brown buds (the hairiness help hold in heat). A few greening leaves of prairie smoke peeked through the dry grasses, and what looked like the stalks of last year’s kittentails scattered down the hillside. Almost spring, we told ourselves. Soon those pasqueflowers would bloom.

Two weeks later on a sunny day we returned to River Terrace Prairie SNA, certain that those little nubs we’d seen would now be blossoming. When the road curved toward the SNA, however, we knew at once that we would not find anything blooming: the hillside and lower field were charred black, the only color the orange remnants of burnt cedar trees. Clearly a prescribed fire, a necessary part of prairie life, had burned away the old grasses. Still, we hopefully climbed the hill as clouds of ash rose up around our feet.
Those little brown furry beginnings of pasqueflowers we’d seen earlier now looked like little charred nests of noses poking up from the burned ground. Nearby, prickly pear cactus pads were shriveled, yellow, and needle-less. It will be interesting to come back later (much later) to see how everything responds to the fire. But for now, we still wanted pasqueflowers.

McKnight Prairie wasn’t far away, so we headed over and climbed to the top of the hill where several of the delicate flowers opened purple petals to the sun, delighting our flower chaser hearts.

Surely if pasqueflowers were blooming, those snow trillium sprouts had had time to unfold leaves and flower. A quick check on a cold and windy Saturday to Minnesota Valley Wildlife Refuge proved us wrong: leaves were bigger, buds were forming, but no flowers to be seen.

The next few days snow fell, melted, then fell again, draping tree branches with wet lacy piles of white. Snow trilliums bloom in the snow, so once again we headed down to the trail where they grew. Although the sun had barely risen, snow on overhead branches was already melting, leaving little pockmarked holes in the snow on the ground. Some of the melting snow had refrozen into tiny icicles, but most of it fell on our heads and down our necks like rain. The snow trilliums, true to their name, were undaunted by snow. But they still hadn’t progressed from buds to blooms.

One day later, after forty-five degree weather, no trace of snow remained, so once again we headed down to the Minnesota Valley trail. Most of the snow trillium were still in bud, but one brave blossom bloomed brightly.

Slow-walking or not, spring has arrived.