The flower most on display was the lovely glacier lily. From a distance, it's hard to discern distinct flowers because there are so many of them. They start poking up through the snow as soon as it's melted to just a couple of inches and signify spring has arrived. They love the sun and there's no shortage of them in the meadows of our favorite places.

The only problem is finding a place to step from the deep snow to the bare ground without stepping on the flowers. Most of our route was on snow, but occasionally we ran out of the white stuff. It makes for great pictures, but also great guilt.

Speaking of pictures, it was almost a bad day for pictures. I mean the subjects were glorious, but ol' butterfingers dropped his fancy-pants camera. It bounded down the steep hillside through the lilies and into a snowfield. I'd have panicked, but it wasn't the first time I've watched my camera rolling away from me. (I should really use the strap more.) The boy tracked it down and other than being mildly damp from the melting snow, it was in good shape. Dang. I mean, Phew. I didn't want to buy a new camera anyway.

We glissaded the 500 feet down to the lakes that were still mostly frozen, sat a bit to soak in the magic of the place, and then kicked steps back up the other snow-filled gully. You'd think Tink would have been as tired as we were, but she made the most of this isolated area and frolicked her heart out.

If they'd been tulips, there'd be a great song about tip-toeing through them, but there isn't such a song about lilies. Quite a pity, actually. Or maybe it's great that we're not encouraged to tromp through the fields of yellow. We'll stick to the snow until it's gone, then we're back to trails.

📍 On the lands of the Wenatchi people.