In our own backyard... It's hard to pass up a 'photographic moment'

I looked for all the world like I was taking a "squat" in the underbrush.

In reality, my mom, sister and I were on a mission to discover the annual bloom of the Showy Lady's-Slipper.

I had brought my camera along, determined to capture the beauty of the rare wild flowers thriving in their natural setting, and in my enthusiasm, I threw any attempt at propriety to the wind. I bent over, tipped sideways, hung my head almost upside down and yes, crouched in my pursuit of an "artistic" shot of the flowers.

"Honey, do you want to go along?" I lobbied my husband before heading out for the site.

"Ahhhh, no -" he hedged. "I think I'll go for a bike ride instead....."

I knew he was remembering previous times, previous circumstances, where I had a hard time prying myself away from an intriguing "photo shoot" that engaged me for what seemed like hours while I tried for the perfect shot.

And so, the three of us women set out last Fourth of July weekend in search of the Showy Lady's Slippers. In the back of my mind, all I could think of was how outstanding a subject they would be in the lens of my camera.

We drove many miles and debated, as we always do, over at just what point the riotous bloom normally begins. At first, there was a flower or two here and there, and then the roadside erupted into virtual clumps of them, easing their way from roadside into forest.

"STOP!" I cried.

Obligingly, my sister slowed the car, and as soon as I could manage, I hopped out.

"Oh but there's much bigger patches of them ahead," my mom declared.

But I was off, camera poised to capture the flowers in the height of their bloom. And so it was that I did all that I could to "work" the shots of the beautiful wild flowers, wheedling and cajoling them into my camera lens at every opportunity and angle I could.

As we inched our way forward in the car, I demanded frequent stops so I could leap out, plunge down the ditch, and settle into an ignominious squat to try to photograph the illusive blooms at ground level.

"I think maybe we need to be heading back toward home...." my mom ventured at last. "After all, we did make plans to meet the men for a late breakfast."

"Sure, sure," I agreed. "I'm almost done."

"Oh, my GOSH!" my sister would then exclaim. "You ought to see the patch of them over by the edge of the woods. They're the best ones yet!"

And so, I'd be off once again in search of the ultimate photo.

Time after time, as we reiterated the sentiment that we "really have to be going," one of us would find yet another, far better, patch of the rare lady's slippers, and then I'd be off in hot pursuit.

It was at some point in the morning that we became aware of the fact that another car had pulled up alongside ours on the remote gravel road. And out of it stepped an elderly couple - she with a camera around her neck and he walking tentatively along with the assistance of a walking stick.

"Aren't they beautiful?" I proclaimed, without ever questioning just what it was they were there for.

"Oh, yes," sighed the woman in unspoken understanding.

And so, we proceeded with a silent tryst between us - to try, in some way, to capture our state's official flower in print.

My sister finally called home on her cell phone, only to find our husbands were impatiently awaiting breakfast.

"We're headed home in just another minute or two...." she promised. "Oh - look at THOSE!" she cried in the next breath, and I was off again, camera poised and ready for action.

Just before we finally decided we really must go, we encountered the elderly couple we'd seen a half hour earlier, and the woman was still photographing the beautiful flowers as well. I sensed a kindred spirit.

"Aren't they wonderful?" exclaimed the woman enthusiastically. "God certainly knows how to grow a garden...."

And as we arrived home, our husbands were anxiously waiting for us so we could go out for breakfast.

"We had a such a great time," sighed my sister, "but we had a little trouble convincing Wendy to leave...."

"I know," sighed my husband with a grin. "Believe me, I know...."