The Trillium

My trillium has bloomed today. A couple of years ago I planted it under the spruce tree beside the Solomon's Seal and Lily of the Valley. Each plant recreates a memory for me. My mother loved wild flowers and taught us all the names of every plant and flower on our endless mosquito clouded summer hikes. I am sure that the names of certain flowers were some of the first words I learned.

When I was 3 or 4 years old, we were on one of our many woodsy walks and I discovered a trillium. In triumph I picked it and brought it back to my mother who spanked me for my pains. She sternly explained that the trillium was a wild flower and the emblem of our province, Ontario, and that I must never pick one. It may even be against the law. I am not sure but I have never picked one since.

However, when I see that trillium it brings back one of my earliest memories, Mother's love of botany. Her grandfather, a botanist, had taught her as a young child and she passed it on.