Take one of my favorite wildflowers: the Indian Paintbrush, AKA the Wyoming Paintbrush. It’s a bright orange-to-red flower native to the west that, in a normal year, rises up from the ground mid-spring and withers away by midsummer. For as long as I’ve lived in Ken Caryl and had access to the hiking trails, I’ve learned to look for a bright vermillion heads of the paintbrush between May and early August. By late August, the red heads heads will have withered away, leaving the narrow, mint-green leaves to wither, too. However, even when the paintbrush withers, its roots stay alive, ready to pop up when spring comes around. 

Except, this year, the paintbrush decided that springtime started in mid October, after they already bloomed earlier this year. Scarier still, it wasn’t alone. 

Other springtime flowers, from Scarlet Globmallow (AKA Cowboy’s Delight) to Sulfur Buckwheat, have also been sprouting from the earth this fall, attracting butterflies and bees still warmed by the sun. Of course, some flowers, such as the prairie aster and the rabbitbrush will bloom in late August through October, so not everything is completely off. 

But, the fact that I found more Indian Paintbrush in the valley in October than I did in May is… unsettling, to say the least. 

Wildflowers don’t just sprout up from the ground within a few days when the weather is warm and wet. They require weeks of warm, wet, springlike weather to emerge from the soil, because blooming and producing pollen and seeds takes a lot of energy, and pollen can’t spread without the aid of bees, butterflies, beatles, and hummingbirds. 

In other words, the wildflowers are warning us of something. 

As is the disappearance of Saint Mary’s Glacier, which I predicted would happen after I saw what was left of it in July of this year. And the massive wildfires followed by record-breaking flooding plaguing southern Colorado. And the terrible, choking air quality of the Denver area held down by high pressure system after high pressure system. And the sudden thunderstorm that chased Eric and I out of the valley this morning (November 2nd), despite no such weather being in the forecast or on radar when we got to the trailhead. 

Springtime wildflowers coming up in the fall may look harmless and pretty on the surface. But to me, they look like a curious little bear cub coming up to say hello. Why? Because I know mama bear ain’t far behind, and she will not be very cute or cuddly. The consequences of human-caused climate change won’t be so pretty either.