The Leaves, Today, Lingered

Heather returned home after walking with a friend and told me, “The plants you saw by the river last week have bloomed; they’re wonderful.” The next chance for me came this evening after work in the extended light of daylight savings time. Running shoes on and camera packed, I headed to the Occoneeche Speedway Trails, eager to find our piedmont trout lilies.
Unexpectedly, I saw more than I looked for. The trout lilies were there where I remembered, in the moist lowground; riverside. The flower is delicate and short-lived. On a thin stem it hangs, looking down at its namesake paired leaves. The flowers brought me out today, got me down on the ground for their close-ups. But the leaves, today, lingered in my mind. Those speckled trout profiles, verdantly mottled and wildly rampant, recalled a place I visit only a few times each year now. The Mountain home. We moved there from the flatlands of Oklahoma when I was 15. My world, once lakes and plains became hills and shining creeks. Scissor-tail flycatchers and catfish became falcons and speckled trout. Those transitions marked time for me. We live now, away from the mountains and our rivers are troutless.
Marking springtime, I now studied these slender leaves, appreciating what was in their name. A sweet memory of youth and a certain sunlit fish, from here, distant though not forgotten.