Come and I will show you where the wild cactuses grow
It’s not a place of comfort, but it isn’t far. This open hillside facing the sun. Steep and baked hard where the cactuses with their spikes dig in and take root. The wild hillside of grass and sage rippling in the breeze is where the wild cactuses grow.
They bloom once a year – beauty and mystery. Yellow crepe petals opening in the warmth of the sun. They bloom for themselves and maybe just maybe also for us. We can stay but a little while. We travel down the hillsides. Hoping to see the cactuses, with their formidable spikes, paint their vulnerabilities. The lingering scent of sage and roses drift on the breeze.
We must travel down
Away from our expectations that the earth owes us her beauty. It’s a pilgrimage. First we must go down this hill with its changing mantle of flowers. A hillside that if hugged right here shows the curvature of the earth. An intimate and up close view of the song bursting from its soul. It is a sacred journey, this journey to where the wild cactuses grow.
Wait. Do you see? These small scratchings? A bear has recently traveled this hillside. Digging for bulbs and grubs. It may be watching us now from a vantage point we cannot see.
We’ve arrived at a plateau riotous with color. A pond that shrinks in the heat of summer lies to our right. Hidden in a grove of aspen. The musical cadence of frogs weaves a string of notes back to childhood. Songbirds sing, not caring whether they blend with the song of its neighbor. Perhaps they sing for us. The earth is alive and shares its song with those who listen.
A wall of wild roses, scrub brush, and saskatoons is before us
A barely perceptible opening hints of a trail through to the other side. It’s a narrow winding trail. The thorns and branches pull at our arms and legs and hair but the lingering scent of the earth is whispering us forward. For it knows we seek the place where the wild cactuses grow.
It isn’t far until we break through to yet another windswept hill. We have arrived. Standing amid the tall grass and rippling wild flowers we gaze. Wispy clouds float in a blue sky, remnants of yesterday’s rain. The winding river below a shining ribbon laced throughout the landscape. We stand atop the hill on whose side the wild cactuses grow.
A game trail traverses this steep hillside, slicing across the narrow terraces sculpted by the forces of nature. This hillside doesn’t belong to me or to you. We are seekers like the moose and deer that traveled this trail before us. We will follow it for a short distance and then balance along one of the narrow terraces, stepping carefully so not to step on a cactus.
It’s not a resting place this hillside where the wild cactuses grow
There is no place to sit a while. Rather we will bend in gratitude and drink in the wildness and persistence of the cactuses that grow amongst the ancient grass. If you’re lucky, you’ll see a snake curled on the hard hillside soaking in the warmth of the sun – guardians of the cactuses.
We traveled each week of Spring through a changing landscape of flowers. From early crocuses that spread their color across the hilltop above while it was yet brown, to delicate flowers whose names I haven’t learned, to tall bluebells swaying in the breeze.
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The wild cactuses are permanent but changing. They emerge shrunken from the bitter winter cold. In early spring, you must search for them. Barely visible amongst the grass matted from the weight of snow. The cactuses withered from their dormancy.
As the sun warms the hillside their color deepens into a dark rich green. They drink the spring rains and their shriveled stalks plumpen. They grow. It’s easier to find them with each subsequent trip.
This is the hillside where wild cactuses grow
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See, bristles like a paintbrush form at the end of each new pad and beneath the stars, they conspire to paint the hillside yellow. The day arrives, and as the sun warms the hillside, one-by-one the flowers burst open, splashing their colour across the landscape. The flowers know they are there but briefly. The thorns? The thorns will stay to protect the truth hidden within.
The wild cactuses bloom for those who seek.
P.S. The repeated trip down the hillside to see the cactuses brings me joy. The landscape never the same from week to week, year to year. This post is my attempt to share the beauty with you. Thanks for coming with me to where the wild cactuses grow!
May you find that which you seek.
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