Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Picking Yellowy-purpley wildflowers

My suitcase is unpacked, but it is still on the floor in my bedroom. My man asked, "What do you want me to do with this?"
"Just leave it there, I'm going to fill it up. I'm not done going yet," I said.
He rolled his eyes and asks, "Where?"
"I don't know!" I answer. In my mind, I have three to five places in mind, but being that I have chores to do and some logistics to work out, I don't share this information. 
It is Sunday, I hope he just gets us out of the house, and off the ranch for the day. I was elbow deep in breakfast dishes when he tells me he will watch the boys, if my sister and I want to go play.
Really? Yes, really. Alright. So I dress and SPF 50 myself and the kids, give about a handful of orders, grab the camera, the Map Book, my sister and her car.
So the sis asks, "Where?" Good question. I am still in shock I think.
Welcome to Ruby Valley and the Ruby Mountains.
Generally speaking, Ruby Valley it is a pretty, farmy-ranchy very rural valley in Northern Nevada, in Elko County. It's one of those places you don't know about unless you have reason to visit it--or a spirit that begs to find out where that road goes.
I have wandered this way before but I see on the map book that there is a sulfer hot springs way out there. I ask WjB, if she's game to blow about 100 miles and possibly not get where we are going. She is fine with it, and tells me to let her know when its time to stop and take pictures.
Next to this old building is another, less old, community center. Behind both buildings I spy an outhouse.
Why are old outhouses as fun as old buildings?
Oh, wait.
There is a His AND Hers
Anyhow, we finally made it to the end of the pavement. And to the place in the map book that says I need to pay attention for the sulpher hot springs. Nestled in the fields, hills and corrals and bunches of trees that belonged to somebody, was some white dirt. It probably had a sulpher hot springs down there. We did not see the road right to it. Of course. So we just kept going.
Until we found
Some purply-yellow wild flowers.
The best part about wandering with my wild Nevadan sister is that when I said it was okay to turn back around, she answers, "Oh, lets' keep going."
I don't need a whole lot of encouragement.
 The urge to keep going is as infectious as a fungus.
She climbed until she had the thought, I better find a place to turn around before I have to back down this hill. (She told me.) Plus, we found another man's junk to check out.
Purpley-yellow wild flowers to pick.
I do know that these flowers are called Lupin. They are a common wild flower in both the mountains and valleys of Nevada in spring. They can be purple or yellow or purply-yellow (or is it yellowey-purple?).
I'm a bit of a flower child. These, and the Indian Paintbrush blooms, have been ALL my heart wanted to see these past couple months.
So, this past Sunday it was not important to know: where I was going; what it is supposed to be called; or what it was once used for.
All that was important was to stop and admire the beauty of it, while we traveled to and from it, and remember to look behind it...
What a great Sunday drive down an old dirt road and once upon a drive past a Humboldt access sign. Hope you enjoyed the pictures,
June 6, 2011

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