Little Blue Lupine Reality
These are our last soft spring days. Fine rain and mist press against the mountains and for a short time, the Sierra foothills glow green as old Ireland.
Oliver Burkeman, in his book 4,000 Weeks says, “what you pay attention to will define, for you, what reality is.” Right now, I’m paying attention to the miniature lupine that cloak my neighborhood, casting a soft blue haze across meadows and slopes. The California poppies are a bit late, but where they do bloom, the orange and blue contrast is stunning.
Wildflowers are unpredictable (as far as I can tell). You never know from year to year what conditions will meet their persnickety needs. For a decade I’ve encouraged these fae flowers to bloom in my garden, weeding them carefully, saving seed at the end of spring to sow when the first cold rains begin. This year they grew everywhere without my ministrations.
Lupines grow in poor rocky soils because they transform nitrogen in the air into a useable form through specialized bacteria in their roots. Like their bean and pea relatives, they create their own nitrogen larder in the soil, farming on a microscopic level.
“What you pay attention to will define,
for you,
what reality is. ”
I marvel at this lupine super-bloom. Why are they so prolific this year? Is the nitrogen more plentiful this year? Did the lack of snow encourage them?
These lupines support a kaleidoscope of lives, including the larvae of the arrowhead blue butterfly. Since the flowers don’t make much nectar, once a blossom has been visited, the bright white flag petals turn a dark burgundy-purple to let hungry bugs know there’s no food in that flower. Polite, yes?
In the garden, timing is dicey to let these little lupines go to seed. You must wait until they are dry enough for their seed pods to explode and blast their seeds into the world. By then, it’s past time to weed-eat the dead grasses that grow around them. It’s a bit of a gardening nail-biter. Lupine seeds or fire safety? What a choice.
But that worry is for another month. Right now, I’m enjoying the romantic blue haze. When I bring my attention close, I notice that at the center of each palmate leaf, spreading under the spikes of blue, purple and white flowers, is a single jewel-like drop of water.
I’m paying attention.
Because I don’t mind that jewel-like reality at all.
