I’ve hiked this path so many times I could probably manage doing so with my eyes closed. Sturdy bridge, stone stairs, water rushing down below, wind rustling through leaves colored according to season.

The state park has a charm that seems to amplify with age, the kind that settles and sculpts a landscape through years of weather and wear. Its beauty increases over time like the smile wrinkles that warmed my grandmother’s face as she grew older. Suffice it to say that beautiful moments in this place are not difficult to come by. But even in a setting that ordinarily prompts wonder, there are, every so often, extraordinary details that set it apart all the more.

Seeing a Lady Slipper plant tucked away against the side of a bluff this past spring stopped me in my tracks. In part because the bright yellow popped in contrast to the greys and mossy greens surrounding it. In part because I’ve been fascinated by the Minnesota state flower since childhood but have only once before seen it in the wild. And in part because I found it utterly remarkable how such a tiny, dainty, delicate bloom somehow had the capacity to light up the whole landscape. Like a candle shining in the darkness, or a rainbow bursting from behind a storm cloud.

I knew while looking at the lovely blossom that it wouldn’t last long; in a few days it would be gone. But the fleetingness prompted me to savor it that much more. I paused for a moment longer than I normally would. I lingered in a place I may have otherwise passed over. The beauty of the Lady Slipper first struck me by its uniqueness and rarity, but it ended by awakening a deeper awe, gratitude, and appreciation for the familiar, too.