Where the beautiful wildflowers grow, there, a man’s spirit is fed, and poets grow. That so queenly a flower should annually bloom in such withdrawn and secret places as to be rarely seen by man.”
Written in praise of the purple-fringed orchis, these immortal words of Henry David Thoreau have become my philosophy.
Since my early youth, Thoreau, whom I consider one of the most sincere and discerning contributors to American letters, has been almost an idol.
And his writings as a naturalist rather than a philosopher have been a continual inspiration to me to “seek the flower in its field.”
Thoreau’s Great Love For Nature
His great love for nature, so vividly expressed in his books and Journals, has filled my mind with many pleasant thoughts through the years.
Of Thoreau rambling along the roads and through the fields and woods of his beloved Concord, stopping here to study a flower, there to listen to a bird song.
Of the nature lover’s great delight in coming across a field of marsh marigolds and giving them eternal life with the words: “These bright yellow suns of the meadow—a flower fire bursting up.”
And if the naturalist turned philosopher and endowed his beloved wildflowers with human characteristics, I was not disappointed.
To this day, I cannot look at a bellwort without thinking: “The single modest-colored flower gracefully drooping as if unworthy to face the heaven.”
I often reflect that had I not discovered Thoreau, I, perhaps, should never have truly found the deeper secrets of nature’s majesty.
His words were my constant inspiration, his life my guideway.
For destiny, the illusive welder of men’s lives did not temper the artistic metal in my heart that I might become a naturalist. Instead, I was to be—the fates mocked ironically—a drummer!
An Inspiration To My Pursuit Of Career
Since my younger life was spent in the city with thoughts of nature relegated to the back of my mind, it was natural that I should fall into the arms of trade at an early age.
Though my heart longed for the out-of-the-way places, I went forth on the highways to sell laces.
But the longing remained, and with it, a secret knowledge that one day I must alter my course to follow the lure of field and wood, where I might discover, not prospects for laces, but, perhaps, an Indian pipe (Monotropa uniflora) such as once inspired Thoreau to say:
“It reminded me of a maiden in her robes of purity who has always been nurtured in shady and vault-like seclusion as a nun of spotless purity. Pushing aside the doorway of dry leaves, three sisters of various heights issue from their hidden convent.”
With this call continually in my heart, I would one day find a way to express my feelings for nature, but it was comforting to know that Thoreau, too, had to bend to the difficulties of earning his daily bread and butter in the pursuit of his career.
When he retreated to his sanctuary—a crude hut on the shores of Walden Pond on the outskirts of Concord—he was forced to support himself by surveying, carpentering, and probably more to his liking, gardening. This knowledge was indeed heartening to me!
My Introduction To The Delights Of Photography
More heartening, however, was the acquisition of my first camera.
With this introduction to the delights of photography, I knew, at long last, that I had found a way to realize my greatest ambition: to capture the beauty of nature forever.
Being a traveling salesman was not so bad now, for, on my long, out-of-town trips, there was always a blessed Sunday when I could lay aside the thoughts and impedimenta of a drummer.
When possible, I would stop in a small country town where I could hie forth on the trolley and enjoy the countryside’s sights, sounds, and smells.
I could listen to the morning song of the birds, which were more important by far.
I could record these fleeting pleasures for tomorrow’s enjoyment through the eye of my treasured camera, which was always with me.
That was many, many years ago, for I am now one of the elders to whom a new vista of nature enjoyment was opened a decade ago.
It was then that I fell hopelessly in love with wildflowers. I had always admired them as integral parts of the countryside.
But, during the war years, when gas rationing forced me to walk along country roads, I learned to know the beauty and individuality of each flower that adorned each season’s unique tapestry.
Photography came to dominate my life, and I eventually made it my profession, choosing the photography of gardens and large estates as my field of work.
Gaining More Knowledge About Wildflowers
When wildflowers became my hobby, I found it necessary to learn a great deal about my flower subjects.
Therefore, in a few years, I collected one hundred books on wildflowers and found my old ally, Henry David Thoreau, continually quoted.
I developed a new upsurge of interest in the man and his favorite subjects.
With an insatiable thirst to learn about all the experiences which were the source of his writings on wildflowers, I spent one whole year reading the 7000 pages of his Journals, from which I extracted copious notes and wildflower references.
Visiting Thoreau’s Wildflower Locations
Although I had visited Concord and photographed at Walden Pond many years ago, I began to wonder what Thoreau’s country would be like at the moment.
More than a century had passed since he studied nature there. How wonderful if I could still find the same wildflowers in the locations described by him!
Luckily, I heard of Mrs. Leslie Anderson, whose forebears had lived in Concord for many generations and devoted much time to studying and photographing Thoreau’s wildflower locations.
She knew the exact location of one of Thoreau’s rarities, and she graciously offered to conduct me to the spot—an occasion too good to miss!
I arranged to visit Concord in May at the proper time to catch the species in bloom: a white variation of that dainty sprite of the May woodland—the magenta-fringed polygala.
I wish I could tell you that it was a perfect May day, but, alas, the wind blew almost a gale and heavy clouds raced across the sky, continually obscuring the sun.
Photographing this tiny white polygala on the ground presented many difficulties, some impossible to overcome, but, even so, it was a glorious moment.
When my guide pushed aside the covering of leaves to reveal her precious find, we both quoted: “Thus many flowers have their nun sisters dressed in white.”
Thoreau’s naive but picturesque phrase expresses what the botanist calls “albinism.”
How thrilling the thought that these were the hundredth generation of plants that greeted Thoreau almost a century ago!
I could almost see him there, poking aside the leaves and rejoicing to find this chaste beauty again.
Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Favorite Rhodora
There was another surprise in store. Down near the swampy edge of the pond stood a Rhodora, Ralph Waldo Emerson’s favorite, in the glory of its flowering, impressively beautiful even from afar.
Its location being pictorially unfavorable and the high winds impossible, a clipping was taken and photographed the following morning when the wind had abated and a clear blue sky could be used as a background.
An Accomplished Botanist
I returned home to dream of the little bit of Thoreau’s life that I had shared.
I was determined to carefully review my notes taken from the Journals to see what picture I might be able to draw of Thoreau as a botanist and lover of wildflowers.
For many years, he had observed the progress of the seasons. Out of doors every day in all kinds of weather, he meticulously recorded all aspects of nature in the Journals—what he saw and how it affected him.
He had a greater knowledge of botany than any other natural science and was deeply engrossed in studying wildflowers, plants, and trees. The pages of his Journals abound in references to them.
He had not studied botany at college, and it was not until 1850 that he delved deeply into the study of wildflowers and other botanical subjects.
The first edition of Asa Gray’s Manual of the Botany of the Northern United States, which appeared in 1848, was undoubtedly a stimulus. Previous to that time, he had used Jacob Bigelow’s Plants in the Vicinity of Boston.
In addition to those botanies mentioned, Thoreau began to read many treatises on natural history.
His proficiency in Latin enabled him to study the works of the famous Swedish botanist Carolus Linnaeus in the original.
He claimed that this work taught him more about botany than other books he had read or consulted.
With his scientific approach and patient, methodical mind, he became an accurate botanical observer, and aided by his keen eye for color, form, and minute detail, he noted differences in plant and flower structure that would elude ordinary observers.
A masterful study of the hypericums in his Journal notes of July 26, 1856, gives evidence of how much knowledge and experience he had gained in noting taxonomic differences.
He had become an accomplished botanist in six years, yet he often decried the scientific approach, likening his feeling to the love children instinctively bear toward wildflowers.
Deeming this appreciation more real than that of the botanist who tells much about the value of a plant as food or medicine but not a word about the beauty of its flower.
He was no closet naturalist in pouring over books when the wondrous world of living things awaited him outdoors, ready to reveal its secrets.
The Philosopher
I do not propose to glorify Thoreau’s achievements in botany. But, even if they had been great, they would be less immortal than his contribution to the inspirational literature concerning botanical subjects—especially wildflowers.
To nature lovers, his word portraits of wildflowers are classic and unforgettable. To be philosophized or draw a moral in these descriptions does not detract from the beauty of word and phrase with which lie expressed himself.
His insight and depth of feeling are exemplified in his tribute to the white water lilies he observed on his boating trips:
“Exquisitely beautiful and unlike anything else that we have, is the first white lily just expanded in some shallow lagoon, perfectly fresh and pure, before the insects discovered it. How admirable its purity! How significant that the rich, ‘black mud of our dead stream produces the water lily. Remarkably, those flowers which are most emblematical of purity should grow in the mud.”
Thoreau, the dreamer, and philosopher, the great word painter, was a miser in acquiring and preserving wealth in terms of experience.
With the soul of an artist, he could appreciate beauty for beauty’s sake—perhaps his richest asset.
But Thoreau was also a thinker, and when observing the beauties of nature, he saw through the eyes of the scientist, artist, and philosopher.
How rich, then, was his appreciation of growing things!
Only to Thoreau, perhaps, could the lowly skunk cabbage be symbolic of immortality:
“If you are affected with melancholy this season, go to the swamp and see the brave spears of skunk cabbage buds already advanced to a new year. Its withered leaves fall and are transfixed by a rising bud.”