Category Archives: San Juan Island

May 15, 2026 · 8:29 pm

The Wildflower Cure 

By Kimberly Mayer                

How can one help but not fall into a funk when the world is off 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 fushia pink and purple, their petals swept backwards 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 off, upside down! Just like us. 

Then back down it goes as a long living bulb. And that too is our world, underground.

Originally published Wednesday May 13, 2026 in The Journal of the San Juan Islands

1 Comment

Filed under nature, opinion, San Juan Island

Tagged as , , , , , , , ,

March 22, 2024 · 8:13 pm

What Brings Me Back

BY KIMBERLY MAYER

What drove me away from the islands in December was the darkness. Now, three months later in San Diego, I am almost ruined. All that light! Even in the historic rainfall this winter, bomb cyclones or atmospheric rivers–call it what you will–there was light. And I got used to that.

Now we leave SoCal, the land of shiny white cars, and drive up the coast, traverse Oregon, the land of trucks, and all of Washington, the land of gray SUV’s. Enormous states all. Finally, ferrying out to what our five-year old grandson refers to as “going to that other country…” 

I think that’s what breaks my heart.

I had thought we’d be returning to the island with the rufous hummingbirds, coming up from southern US and Mexico at the same time as them. In my mind’s eye salmonberry and red flowering current would be abloom for our feisty little friends, and we would start being their handmaidens, crazily filling their feeders. Bags of sugar flying off the grocer’s shelf like it was days before Thanksgiving. Kayaks and paddle boards coming and going, revolving doors of houseguests, and every meal on the deck. I saw all this, with spring accelerating into summer.

But there’s more winter to get through apparently. Our route will be more coastal, but still, a Monster Blizzard in the Sierras. Snowfall on island. We’re packing snow chains for the road trip. But it was never about snow; it was the lack of light. Snow is beautiful. And it’s bright. 

If there’s one thing we can’t predict, it’s nature. Winter or spring, we’re coming home. To the woods by the sea where Douglas firs and cedars stand and greet us, and madrone trees bend and beckon with open arms. 

Originally published 3/21/2024 in The Journal of The San Juan Islands

3 Comments

Filed under absence of light, San Juan Island, Solana Beach CA, West Coast

Tagged as