Children of the 1960s might have a different definition of the term “flower power,” when non-violent ideology and passive resistant were forms of protest used against the Establishment. For me, the term also resonates with the amazing diversity and colorfulness of desert wildflowers and shrubs that bloom in a tough landscape under less than ideal conditions. Kind of like existing within a society that doesn’t share your views.

But for now, we’ll talk nature not politics. The ancestry of desert lupines and beautiful monkeyflowers exceeds the mere spec of time that governments have existed when compared to plants that have existed for millions of years. Plus, the colorful blooms of cacti and pentsemon far outweigh the debates of politicians.

In springtime, the parade of wildflowers can starts early, sometimes in January with some hardy lomatiums peeking out from beneath protective rocks. Some weedy species gain traction in March, competing with Indian paintbrush, rockcress, twinpod and early locoweeds. These native plants tolerate the cold better than others which seems ironic considering this environment is known more for its intense summer heat than its short, winter cold.

April is a wild card in the floral transition time zone and, depending upon the weather, can send the wildflower show into overdrive or keep it stuck in second gear. Hedgehog cacti bloom from the barrel-shaped cacti that grow in clusters or they remain covered with snow. You can count on Easter or cave primrose to bloom around Easter, and by one’s and two’s, other wildflowers poke up amongst the sandstone slabs. But if the weather is dry and cold, April’s wildflower display might be a no-show.

Short of a drought, May is a good month to bet on the flowers erupting in color. Yucca wands of ghostly-white flowers light up the landscape and attract the nocturnal pronuba moths that pollinate the flowers. Hillsides may turn golden as beeplant or blanketflower erupt into bloom or orange globemallow burst open. There are the fine wildflower years, the memorable ones where every plant and shrub seems to be cloaked in color.

This bounty of flowers might seem spectacular enough, but when you consider that many seeds of these plants have lain dormant for years awaiting these conditions, it gives another level of awe to the display. And not to be outdone by colorful flowers and spectacular floral displays, is an ancient relationship between pollinators and plants.

Butterflies, bees, ants, flies, beetles these and other insects assist flowers in transferring pollen from plant to plant. The insects gain nectar or pollen rewards for their loyalty or for just showing up. The flowers employ different strategies based upon structure and color. Probably the most amazing pollinator is found deep within the blooms of the prickly pear cactus. Amidst a waving sea of stamens bearing pollen are iridescent beetles mowing through the thickets.

Not to be outdone by the beetles, black-chinned hummingbirds also contribute to the flow of pollen from plant to plant. As they probe the tubular flowers of penstemon in search of nectar, their foreheads become dusted with pollen. Visiting another flower, they brush up against the flower’s female stigma and pollen grains are transferred. Future generations depend upon this coordination and choreography.

So what if a season goes by without success? A look into the seed bank buried in the vault of desert soil reveals this investment in the future. Tough, resilient, patient, these seeds await the right conditions before they germinate. Even in a poor year there is seed set and contributions to this seed bank that are deposited. After all, the success of the future depends upon the production of the present, and that cycle has been rotating through the Canyon Country for a long, long time, much to our delight.