06/03/2026
Wildflower Wednesday | Spring Week 11
This week I was back on home ground — five miles through Shevlin Park on Bend’s west side.
I know these trails well. Nine years of walking them through every season. And yet every time I come back, there’s something new to notice.
This week: Rocky Mountain iris standing in the meadow. Rosy pussytoes in soft pink and cream. Wood’s rose with its single magenta bloom. Western columbine in red and yellow. Cinquefoil lining the trail. Silverleaf phacelia. Indian paintbrush. And a rain-soaked seedpod that caught the light in a way I couldn’t walk past.
Shevlin Park is nearly 1,000 acres of old-growth ponderosa pine, western larch, and aspen along Tumalo Creek. It has been protected since 1921, when the Shevlin-Hixon lumber company donated the land to the city — a decision driven by a man who had watched midwestern forests be completely logged and devastated, and refused to let that happen here.
I’m grateful for that decision every single time I walk these trails.
There’s something I’ve been thinking about this week. How peaceful it is to return to a place you know well. To know what to expect — and still find delight in what’s there.
I think that’s one of the quiet gifts of this season of life. We know ourselves better than we ever have. Our rhythms, our needs, what restores us. And yet we’re still capable of surprise. Still finding new things worth noticing.
That feels like enough.
Still noticing. Still finding joy in familiar places.
Is there a place you return to again and again — and what does it give you?