The wildflower cure | Nature of Things
Published 1:30 am Wednesday, May 13, 2026
By Kimberly Mayer
Journal contributor
How can one help but not fall into a funk when the world is on its axis? What have we here? A war no one wants, a president no one wants, everything imploding and harkening back to a darker time in civil rights, voting rights, environmental policy, medicine and health care, disregard of law, disregard of international law … I could go on.
“Go and see the wildflowers. That’ll cheer you up,” my good neighbor suggested. We knew where to go. It was the time of year to hike the trails up Young Hill in English Camp on San Juan Island, and none too late for blooms.
“My first spring on San Juan Island,” wrote Susan Vernon in “Rainshadow World: A Naturalist’s Year in the San Juan Islands.” “A neighbor told me about walking up Young Hill to see the shooting stars. It took me a moment to realize she was talking about wildflowers and not a celestial event.”
Walking through Miners Lettuce near the base, it wasn’t long before we came upon the Shooting Stars (Dodecatheon hendersonii) in fuchsia pink and purple, their petals swept backward like the tail end of a shooting star. Such optimism and verve! Wildflowers spread themselves in clusters or drifts, pretty much one type at a time. In yellows, we passed Oregon grape (Berberis aquifolum) and abounding amounts of Western Buttercup (Ranunculus occidentalis). Before long, the blue- violet Small Camas, also known as Camassia quamash, appeared on grassy slopes. The bulb of this plant, which, when cooked, tastes like sweet potatoes, was an important nutrient for First Peoples, and the islands provided a great source of the bulb as European settlements grew on the mainland.
Then I saw it. The White Fawn Lily (Erythronium oregonum). Sometimes it all comes down to a single flower. A creamy white bell-shaped flower with recurved petals. Also known as Oregon Fawn Lily, it only grows on the Pacific Coast Ranges from southwestern British Columbia to northern California. An obscure beauty, here for only a fleeting moment in early spring. Blooming its head upside down! Just like us.
Then back down it goes as a long-living bulb. And that too is our world, underground.
