One of our native orchids that is somewhat similar to and nearly as beautiful as the ladyslippers is the shy and fascinating stream orchid, or chatterbox. A water lover, sparsely located about the valley along stream banks, only a fortunate few wildflower admirers have the privilege of encountering and enjoying this trim and lovely orchid.
Ninety miles roundtrip seems like a long distance to travel in order to take a color picture of a certain wildflower, and the performance may seem to justify my being facetiously labeled as a nut by a certain Cave Junction wild canurican (not found in Webster: a flexible and handy term handed down to me by my wild canurican dad and my w.c. grandfather, especially applicable to explosively energetic wingless birds who never-the-less insist on flying in the face of any and all odds in order to keep this wobbly old world rocking and rolling to the desired rhythm).
Some of our oddest, prettiest, and most interesting wildplants are to found among the saprophytes (that get their nourishment from decayed or decaying plant matter) and parasites (those that pilfer their food, or most of it, from living plants).
To anyone interested in wild plant study the derivation of the plant names, both common and botanical, is a source of never-ending fascination and puzzlement. Many of the plant names are so far-fetched and imaginative they seem almost ridiculous.
Long ago I came to the conclusion that the favorite past-time of man in general was to skin the socks off of his fellow man. To get the best of a fellow human, stranger or friend, brazenly or subtly, especially in a material way, was the approved method of demonstrating his superiority over his trusting or gullible associates.
June 6, 1968 “In Memory of Friday, Born May 13, 1954, Died August 15, 1955.” On a rocky point jutting westward from near the top of the Chetco-Illinois divide, near the tumble-down cabin on an old mining claim, a tiny grave no more than 3…
As alarmingly scarce as the snow in our hills is this spring you will still find plenty of it if you try to drive up into the mountains – and all in the wrong places.
If you ever want to follow the old Mud Lake trail through to the lake it was named for, in order to ferret it out all the way you’ll need, besides plenty of stamina and lunch, these three things: lots of patience, lots of luck, and a Ouija Board.
Away to the west of the Chetco-Illinois River divide, in a dark, wooded section of the Little Chetco canyon, many years ago, when the hardy gold seekers of that day were back there reaping a golden harvest, a sturdy little one-room cabin with an open lean-to attached to one end was built beside the trail not far from the river.