Distinctly Montana Magazine

W W W. D I S T I N C T LY M O N TA NA . C O M 35 D E PA R T M E N T L I T E R A R Y L O D E Where have all the flowers gone? Long time passing… Where have all the flowers gone? Long time ago… It was like a broken record. Well, it was a record after all. An old song, from the sixties. Peter, Paul and Mary, right? ey were gone now too as he recalled, but today that song played in his head, spooling endlessly over the last couple hours of the trail winding ever upward toward an elusive snow line. "Do you know that song, Molly? It's an old one, but it seems right today, doesn't it?" Jack said, realizing that Molly could have no idea what he was talking about. But, yes, there was no doubt that the song was unfortunately appropriate. e flowers, the glorious mountain wildflowers, were mostly gone these days in Glacier Park, just as they had gone missing elsewhere in the Rockies. It was only late April, and he guessed the morning temperature to be close to 80 degrees already, with highs expected in the low 90s. Climate change had shifted ev- erything to the upside temp-wise over the past decade; and though fresh snow and cold could still be found in March if you went high enough, April had gone completely topsy-turvy, and there would no longer be any suggestion of winter's frosty breath until next December. November was now like April. Winter was shrinking along with the snowline. e wildflowers, the spiky lupine, the fierce red paintbrushes, the bluebells, trillium, and asters, more kinds than Jack could remem- ber, had all been unable to adapt to the change in seasonal heat and the dry winds, which swept the higher elevations like a malevolent hairdryer. e effect was depressing, Jack thought — few flow- ers, grumpy brown lichen, brittle grasses and the copper-colored needles of dying trees. e park's glaciers were long gone. He remembered the last time he and Molly had taken this same trail to Iceberg Lake. It was after they were first married and before the big changes in weather. "Remember that day, Molly, when it was ac- tually cold? ere were patches of snow. Some of it was knee-deep… and there was a bright quilt of flowers…and green grass…remember green?" e photo of the two of them from that day was telling… big, ridiculous smiles against a backdrop of Montana wonder. He was wearing the silly snowman scarf, her Christmas present, and she had on his gift — a sky blue knit cap with her favorite flower, a glacier lily sprouted in yellow yarn, on its rim. And that flower, Jack thought, was what they were searching for today. He would find one for her, no matter how high they had to climb. Glacier lilies followed the snowmelt in early spring and summer and, as dry and hot as the weather was, Jack figured their best shot at finding a lily, if there was one, was at the flower field overlooking lower Iceberg Lake, the far parts of which were shadowed a good deal of time by Mt. Wilbur toward the south, and Iceberg Peak and the ancient, massive Ptarmigan Wall to the west. e deep shade of the glowering rock preserved snow and lake ice well beyond winter, though that time was much shorter now. e tail-end of the flower field swept to the lower lake past a short footbridge saddling Iceberg Creek. If there were any glacier lilies, this is where they would be found. Jack had promised Molly he would find her a flower despite the change in climate, and he meant to keep that promise, if not today, then tomorrow or next week. He again recalled the photo, their long ago first encounter with the flower bringing a jolt of joy to his heart. "Jack, look at this beautiful flower. Do you know what it's called? I love the way it hangs down and how the petals curl back up. And the color! It's like a chandelier of sunshine." "at, Molly, is a glacier lily. It grows in the early spring, and they pop-up as the snow melts. is is the perfect time to see them. ere should be more closer to the big wall. Here. Let me pick it for you." "No, no. It's much too beautiful. Don't pick it, Jack. Please don't." " You're right," Jack said, "these mountain wildflowers don't last long after you pick them. ey die-off pretty quickly. Let's see if we can find more." A short story by B I L L M U H L E N F E L D Glacier Lily

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