April 20, 2010
Sure Sign of Spring
There are two sure signs of winter’s imminent end in the Dubois badlands: the arrival of bluebirds in late March, and shortly thereafter the first blossom makes an appearance. A single male bluebird can catch your eye immediately, perched on a fencepost or flitting amid sagebrush, that sudden flash of color in the drab landscape and my breath catches. I have the same reaction in early April when I find the first Townsendia flower. The experience is pretty consistent: hiking or riding on a sunny day, still wearing winter layers to ward off a sharp cold wind, and there it is, quiet and unassuming, huddled against the frigid ground.
I admire this nondescript little plant for many qualities; its utter determination, tenacity, resourcefulness, and cheerful optimism in the face of numerous odds against its survival. It chooses to live in conditions with few redeeming qualities. The highly erodible badlands formation promises bare slopes of alternating reddish and gray clay soils, harsh wind and little moisture. The advantages are sunny south-facing hillsides, and very little competition from other plants.
The truth is, I’m not even sure of its name. It fits the Townsendia description, but there are dozens of varieties on the northern Rockies, and none I’ve seen precisely describe “my” plant. There’s a rare Townsendia condensate var. anomala just a few drainages to the north, in the Absaroka formation. It’s similar, but with hairy foliage while my townsendia is a little mound of fine, narrow, grayish-green leaves. The flower is white or the palest possible pink with a bright yellow center, and measures barely an inch across. The entire plant seldom reaches four inches wide and an inch tall. I love it not for its fragrance, or glamour, but simply because it is the first.