I remember, in my youth, coming across patches of three pedaled white flowers, the beautiful Trillium, and knowing it was Spring. The special allure is a treat only of memory and the past, for the flowers aren’t to be found in New Hampshire.
On the wooded hill behind my house are patches of little plants. Velvety dark tri-pedaled flowers have appeared at the top of their stems. They are still Trilliums, just a different sort. Pretty, but to be left alone, Stinking Benjamins are not to be sniffed lightly.
A few years ago I noticed them but just that: noticed. This year, though, it is far more. They are everywhere up on that hill and I’m up there a lot, trying to keep the dogs out of trouble as they blaze trails up and down the almost vertical wall. The dogs don’t care and run at full speed through the small flowery patches. I, however, stop and look at the delicate beauty and know: It is Spring!