Camas Prairies

Day 198: When I tell people that I used to live on one of southwestern Washington's prairies, they look at me with disbelief, perhaps even challenging me by saying, "There aren't any prairies in western Washington!" But they're wrong. South and east of Olympia, there used to be vast open grasslands (the definition of "prairie," incidentally) dotted with wildflowers found nowhere else in the state, including several species of Camassia. Where I lived was a camas prairie, and forty years ago, Camas made a veritable sea of blue of the parts of our acreage which were grassy. Occasionally, a white specimen would crop up...a variant of the same species as the blue...or more rarely, a white Death Camas with its smaller flowers. But we also had timber, and as Doug-firs will do, they shed their cones and new Doug-firs sprouted, expanding their range into our pasture. They never quite took it over, but the Camas didn't like the shade, and fewer and fewer bloomed each year. Sadly, the same thing has happened in much of that area, although I do know a couple of good spots for "Camas watching" even in their reduced range. I visited one of them today, and was happy to see it blue as ever.

Camas Prairie

Day 215: A regional legend tells us that at one time, Mt. Olympus (the highest peak in Washington's Olympic range) had three wives. The youngest was jealous of the other two, and decided to leave. Although she had no idea where she would go, she packed a cedar basket with food for her journey. Among the staples were the roots of the Blue Camas plant (Camassia quamash) which could be boiled or roasted and pounded to make flour. Leaving the Olympic Peninsula, she forged south, and after a few days of travel, she had reached the lower end of Puget Sound. By this time, she was tired and hungry and decided to rest and prepare a meal. As she worked, a few camas bulbs spilled from her basket, unnoticed. The next day, the young wife resumed her travel, eventually arriving at a place she thought would be a suitable home. There, she spread her skirts and settled onto the land to become the peak we now call Mount Rainier. The camas bulbs she had inadvertently left behind multiplied. Now you can see fields of them on the prairies around Yelm.

Camas, Camassia Quamash

Day 211: A long time ago, Mount Olympus (the peak in the Olympic Range) had two wives. The younger wife was very jealous of the elder wife, and so one day, she decided to leave. She packed for a journey and set out walking south, carrying a basket of edible roots and berries on her back. She travelled down the Peninsula until she came to the bottom of Puget Sound, and then turned eastward but by this time, she was tired and hungry. When she reached the place we now call Yelm, she took her basket off her shoulders and sat down to make herself a meal. When she was done, she started walking again, but she left behind a few bulbs of the blue Camas. From those few bulbs came the Camas prairies of southwest Washington. The jealous wife walked and walked, and eventually came to a beautiful, wide-open meadow. "This is where I want to make my home," she said, and there, she spread her skirts and sat down to stay. Today, we know Mount Olympus' jealous wife by another name. We call her Mount Rainier.

This traditional story is one of my favourites. I had never seen Blue Camas until I moved to the prairie as a young married woman. Every time I see the fields turn blue in the early spring, I think of Mount Rainier's journey to her present home.