WHEN ORCHARDS BLOOM 27 



veined pouch, and above it, reaching 

 up octopus-like, are greenish arms. It 

 is a cypripedium, the Indian moccasin 

 flower, beautiful as any orchid that the 

 florist hoards. It was abundant here 

 a little while ago, but like the Indian 

 himself it shrinks from the civilizing 

 touch, and when we meet them now, 

 perched like a flock of tropic birds, we 

 look our fill, touch and caress them, 

 then come away, telling their refuge 

 only to the bees. 



Go backward to the road, by rocks 

 iridescent with trickling moisture, 

 whose crevices hold tufts of scarlet 

 columbine. How science and a web 

 of fancy identify our common flowers, 

 and how undiscriminating ignorance 

 jumbles and confuses them! Thus, 

 honeysuckle may mean the columbine, 

 clover, or the June vine on the porch; 

 and red-bells stands, in local parlance, 



