It’s inevitable.
Whether visiting, living in, or simply reading about the Sierra Nevada mountains, eventually you will come upon John Muir’s famous quote:
The mountains are calling and I must go…
In the ten days since coming upon a mama bear and her cubs in my kitchen, I’ve had to adjust to a new normal. We now have an electric fence that operates like a burglar alarm to discourage repeat visits. I am more vigilant about letting our pup roam on our property, no longer without supervision. I’m quick to ascertain the direction and distance of barking dogs, often a signal that a bear is nearby.
But the mountains are calling!
May 12th; a lot of snow surrounding the small reservoir near our propertyÂ
Spring snow melt: on the right: May 8th; on the left: May 17th
Part of my daily routine is to get outside with my dog and hike each morning. Sometimes a short mile; sometimes 3-5. We had over 700 inches of snow this year. Stubborn berms cling to shady spots on the forest floor. Overnight temperatures dip below 40 degrees. Thunderstorms blow through many afternoons and evenings. My husband is working on our garden boxes, but I’m not confident I will get tomatoes or greens planted before mid-June. It remains to be seen whether we will have a long spring and a short summer or a short spring and a regular summer.
But one thing I look forward to every year is the emergence of snow plants.
They appear tucked close to tree trunks or downed logs, a symbiotic relationship involving tree roots and fungi. Typically, they grow in a spot warmed ever-so-briefly by sunshine. They never bloom in the same place as prior years. And often they emerge in a clump of two or three or more, like a family of forest gnomes that quietly show up when you’re not looking.
Last week, I set out on familiar trails, marveling at the snow that remains, and from a short distance a spot of bright red caught my eye. There! First snow plant of the season! A sure sign, spring is here! Within days, a couple more appeared. Soon I will no longer keep track, not because there will be hundreds. They are not prolific like mule ear or manzanita. The snow flower is a random gem, spring’s delight, beckoning me into the mountains.
snow flower: a haiku
subterranean
scarlet surprise emerges
high sierra joy
©2023, Patricia J. Franz
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Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Patricia, what an interesting and beautiful plant. You honor the snow flower with your haiku. I especially love “scarlet surprise emerges” and “high Sierra joy” is a great ending. Nice alliteration and consonance sounds. I am glad that you feel safer from Mama bear so your pup and you can enjoy hiking the mountains. I understand the calling of the mountains. Thank you for sharing your beautiful haiku, photos, and inspiration.
Thanks, Gail!
In the back and forth of your desert and mountain life it feels as if you are putting on mountain with new eyes, with new found joy — and respect. I love the haiku— the recognition of an old friend!
Always!
They do look like a family of gnomes! What a cool surprise. It sounds like a wonderful environment all around (large furry visitors notwithstanding).
Bears, gnomes, and snowflowers – OH MY!
I love reading about your mountains, Patricia. It’s snowing today in the higher elevations & one ski resort is open for one more week. We had a cabin for years in one area but I never saw this plant, perhaps not in Colorado. I love its blaze & your “high Sierra joy”.
I want to visit CO in snow!
What a scarlet surprise! I’ve never heard of snow flowers. Wow! I’m glad you are creating protection from the bears. That was scary.
I was stung by a scorpion early in my time in AZ and in hindsight it was a good thing; it removed the fear. I know I don’t have to be afraid, just respectful.
Your posts are always deeply saturated with your appreciation and deep love and respect for your environment. You describe the setting so beautifully, wherever you are, that I always feel its call! I’ve never heard of snow flowers and it must be such a delight to spy their scarlet emergence. The comparison to gnomes is perfect. Glad to hear you’ve instituted some bear-safety measures–yikes!
We are keeping watch but resuming life in the mountains!
Oh my word! Patricia, I missed last week’s post, I guess. Wow. I love wildlife, but a mama bear AND HER CUBS inside my house? Terrifying. I’m glad you’re still out enjoying the world, but with vigilance. And thank you for your snow flower photos and poem. I’ve never seen these nor heard of them, and I’m enthralled!
It’s their world, right?
Oh, how neat! I’ve not heard of these plants before. What a lovely introduction to them. I love a scarlet surprise tucked into the middle.
Me, too!
Patricia- For some reason, maybe because I’m bittersweet (see Irene’s post), I’m teary eyed after reading your post. It’s so full of beauty and wonder. Those snow flowers are gorgeous and I especially like how you say they are ‘like a family of forest gnomes” – that’s exactly what they look like. Thank you for the lovliness this morning.
And they are cropping up in lots of spots already since posting!
What different sights you see in your mountain climes/climbs! Oh, would I love to catch a glimpse of those snow flowers!
Just like gnomes!
Oh I missed your post about the bears until now. How scary! But I love the poem your wrote about their visit, and also now learning about Snow flowers. What a delight.
I expect the bears may be with us all summer, unlike the snow flowers that disappear by July.
Wow! I’ve never seen those before – what a wonderful surprise!
They are a delight, aren’t they.
Oooh, “scarlet surprise” — lovely. I love reading about your love for nature.
I’m sorry you have to be so vigilant, but am glad you are being so vigilant. 🙂
Thanks, Karen. Given the bears will be with us all summer, vigilance will be key.