When I was a child, my mother taught me the names of the native plants and wildflowers growing in the neighborhood, and to this day my distinction between flowers and weeds is, at best, imprecise. I like knowing the names of the things growing around me, and greeting them by name and season. The blooming plumes of aster are for me a more poignant harbinger of Fall than the first red leaves of the maple.
This Spring my walks are taking me through forest and mountain ecosystems just different enough from the seaside village where I grew up that I have a whole new set of early wildflowers to marvel at and learn by name.
