Wolf Willow, Flowers, Farmers and Friends

Even more than lilacs (!!) in late June and a remarkable run on my wildlife Bingo card, my most treasured takeaway from this year’s Slow Flowers Summit is the scent of wolf willow (Eleagnus commutata), a sturdy shrub clothed in silvery, sage-green foliage. The plant’s tiny, almost obscure yellow flowers emit an alluring alpine fragrance that travels on a breeze.

The silvery foliage and lemon-yellow flowers on wolf willow (Eleagnus commutata) Photo: Lorene Edwards Forkner

I am neither a flower farmer nor a floral designer — at best you could say I’m farmer/floral adjacent. Or at least that’s what I tell myself every year when it’s time to gather once again with those that do the real work. I may not plant and sow on a commercial scale or navigate a terrifying “wedding season” but I can always count on learning something valuable about the life of a creative entrepreneur. This year’s event took place at the end of June in Banff, Alberta. 

Dear Thelma, it was wonderful. Love, Louise

Through one of life’s inevitable hiccups, rather than flying, at the last minute I ended up driving 660 miles with Summit producer and my dearest friend Debra Prinzing from our homes near the Salish Sea to the Rocky Mountains. It was a beautiful analog day; no podcasts, no deadlines, nothing to do but accumulate miles—excuse me, kilometers—on the Trans-Canda highway. We stopped for Dairy Queen. Later as we approached the Rockies we saw a baby black bear along the side of the highway. For 13+ hours we talked, dreamt, and collectively solved all (our) life’s challenges.

Once “discovered,” wolf willow found its way into many of the Summit’s floral creations. Photo: Lorene Edwards Forkner

A Second Spring

Late June in beautiful Banff offered us a second spring. There were blooming bearded irises, lilacs (!!) — even tulips. The weather was crisp, cold, warm, blustery, cloudy, sunny, and occasionally spitting rain. And always, everywhere, the scent of wolf willow hung over the trails we frequented at the Banff Arts Center. For such a humble presence the plant, or rather its fragrance, quickly became a totem of the gathering, picked up and remarked on by everyone. If a plant can go “viral” among a gathering of people with their hands tuned to nature, then wolf willow certainly did.

For two full days I connected with friends I only see once a year as well as those who have been a part of my life for much longer, people who celebrate and cherish the art and craft of flowers. It was a delicious blend of head, heart and hand.

Impressive peaks surrounding beautiful Banff. Photo: Lorene Edwards Forkner

It was all gorgeous,  impressively large, and over all too soon. 

“I stand above the water and sniff. On the other side I strip leaves off wild rose and dogwood. Nothing doing. And yet all around me is that odor that I have not smelled since I was eleven, but have never forgotten—have dreamed, more than once. Then I pull myself up the bank by a gray-leafed bush, and I have it. The tantalizing and ambiguous and wholly native smell is no more than the shrub we called wolf willow.”

– Wallace Stegner

A color study of wolf willow to document a memorable trip. (c) Lorene Edwards Forkner