The One Flower I’ll Drive to See
I never thought I would be one to appreciate flowers.
There was a time — not long ago — when I didn’t know a daisy from a petunia, and didn’t care. And the truth is, I still don’t — with one exception. Two years ago, I happened to move to the exact corner of the White Mountains at the exact time when something irresistible occurs each June: the profusion of color that is lupine season.
I remember when I first saw lupine. My fiancee had been reading somewhere that the lupine were supposed to be spectacular in a nearby town called Sugar Hill. “Flowers?” I thought. “Who cares?” Sure, spring is really pretty when things start to bloom — I get it. But driving around to look at flowers? I’d rather be climbing a mountain, or kayaking a river. Nevertheless, we drove up Route 117 into Sugar Hill for a look.