Camas Under Oaks

Maybe nothing is left of the way it was before we came here from the East, dug up the prairie and planted crops, drove off the Indians, killed all the wolves, cut down the forests, caught all the salmon, and made roads and fences all over the place. But here is at least a replica of a scene that might have been before we did all that pioneering, a swath of blue camas flowers, under Oregon oaks, and at least one gopher, which I saw only after reading the sign that told me they love the crunchy Camas bulbs, like the Indians did.