Poet Mary Oliver penned this on the beauty and joy of Trout Lillies claiming they’re a “gift that can’t be broken.”  Often those “gifts” are hidden as if a Mother Nature was intent on hiding something special for Christmas. Such were my thoughts as we sauntered down the boardwalk steps toward Hidden Falls at Nerstrand-Big Woods State Park in search of this rare gift. It was a promise that seemed bleak when we passed two older women who on their way back up the hilly path. 

After greetings were shared, along with some good wishes for the one who admitted she was making her first state park adventure since a hip replacement surgery, she asked, “So what are you photographing?”

“Hopefully some Trout Lillies,” I said. 

“Oh, my! You’re much too late! They’re long gone,” she said rather adamantly.

What discouraging news, for our heading to the park on this late Sunday afternoon was in search of the delicate and beautiful native wildflowers sequestered within a mere three county area at the iceless lip of the Driftless. Nerstrand-Big Woods is one of the few remaining public locations. Officially, they’re endemic to the Cannon River and North Fork Zumbro River watersheds in Rice, Goodhue and the extreme northern edge of Steele County. We were where we needed to be.

This unexpected photo journey was part of satisfying my need of venturing into nature, a feeling that has been clawing at me for awhile. We were in the Cities for the artist’s reception of my “Haunted by Waters” exhibit at the Kouba Gallery located on the sacred grounds of the Izaak Walton League on the bluff overlooking the Minnesota River. This is about an hour north of the Nerstrand-Big Woods. Yet, even before leaving home my sights were set on the Sherburne NWR for Sandhill Cranes. Sherburne is my “Mall of America”, and if Trout Lillies could be added to our weekend foray, the gifts would be astounding.

We left Listening Stones Farm early Saturday morning for the three plus hour trip to Sherburne and made it just in time for a quick and picturesque picnic lunch beneath the canopy of towering oaks. We were then off into the motor trail, a “timeless” meander that makes one wonder about the limited vision of others as we were seemingly constantly being passed by other cars speeding by. Were they oblivious to the colorful yellowish Hoary Puccoons and early blooms of deep blue Lupines, or the nesting swans and hopeful sightings of the nearly perfectly camouflaged Sandhill Cranes? 

Admittedly, we were moving rather slow, fighting our initial disappointment of being past the halfway point without a single crane sighting. About then we spied a pair feeding near a far distant wetland. Too distant for a workable photograph. Then, suddenly, one flew across the road right in front of us and was caught mid-frame! Rejoice! Seconds later, its mate followed. Another smile. After that the crane sightings increased significantly, particularly on the due south straightaway of the motor trail where dozens were found feeding in a swampy prairie meadow. One even played “king of the hill” by standing erect on a muskrat lodge. 

At one point, though, after photographing numerous prairie-based wild flowers, I mentioned it was too bad we hadn’t seen any Trout Lillies. An instant Googling of its natural history indicated we were far from their natural habitat yet within the limited time frame of their blooming. A temptation had been launched. What could be better than capturing Sandhills and rare Trout Lillies along with being honored for an exhibit of my water images?

It wasn’t until a lull in our artist’s reception that I suggested to Roberta that we venture to Nerstrand-Big Woods. The park was only an hour south, although it was in the opposite direction of home. Our’s would be a long and late trip home. She was game especially since she had often camped at the park with her late husband, Harland, whose disabilities prevented them from actually visiting Hidden Falls. Now she could catch the falls, and me hopefully, the Trout Lillies!

That was where we were when we encountered the two women and their dismal warning. Strangely enough, moments after our passing and further along the trail my eye caught some strange looking elongated white triangles clustered within the plant canopy. As I was focusing my lens Roberta asked, “Are those your Trout Lillies? Look underneath them.” Sure enough, for below those triangles were the characteristic yellowish, white tendrils. Nirvana!

So indeed, we were not too late. A sense of relief eased over me, for despite the woman’s forecast, a friend, Ted Suss, whose farm is nearby, had told us after we’d decided to venture to Nerstrand-Big Woods that there were “Trout Lillies everywhere.” Up to this point, though, we had been “skunked.” No, they were no longer everywhere, so the two women had almost been correct, for the plants were near the end of their blooming cycle. Yet, what joy. What a gift! 

And, Hidden Falls was not disappointing despite the small water stream. When we first arrived a young teenage couple sat quietly and lovingly, arms and emotions entangled, watching and listening to the cascading falls in a silent euphoric state of first love — that overwhelming feelings they’ll likely not experience again. As we two couples shared a splendid and reverent moment, another couple, about half our age and twice the age of the teenagers, burst from the trail with their teenage son. They suddenly stripped to their skivvies and leapt into the chilly waters, laughing and splashing as if they were children. Though the quiet was lost, the teenager lovers giggled, as did we. Their’s was a celebration within a moment of life … as was ours and the loving teenagers. 

Eventually we turned to head back toward the parking lot, stopping when we reached the small patch of lingering Trout Lillies. Perhaps I broke a park rule by stepping across a rope barrier to kneel into the greenery for a closer, low angled image of Oliver’s delicate gift. 

It was an image that sealed a treasured weekend; Roberta finally seeing her long desired view of Hidden Falls, and me with my varied moments of nature. Those images of Sandhill Cranes and Trout Lillies added greatly to my celebration of personal joy with the exhibit; some hopefully expected, another unintentionally gathered — all gifts that will keep on giving!