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“Maybe I don’t know the names of any of the flowers of Vrangelya, but I know every one here. I know that soon the ground will be covered with white-and- yellow bloodroot. Tiny explosive trout lily. Mounds of green-framed white trillium. Rue anemone in the palest pink. All blooming in the short frame between the thawing of the ground and the leaf-out that will block the sun. It’s what happens in spring when all of Homelands calls out: Look at me. Listen to me. Love me. Make life with me.” — Maria Vale
Maybe I don’t know the names of any of the flowers of Vrangelya, but I know every one here. I know that soon the ground will be covered with white-and- yellow
bloodroot. Tiny explosive trout lily. Mounds
of green-framed white trillium. Rue anemone in the palest pink. All blooming in the short frame between the thawing of the ground and the leaf-out that will block the sun.
It’s what happens in spring when all of Homelands calls out:
Look at me.
Listen to me.
Love me.
Make life with me.