Millions of iridescent wildflowers are carpeting the rolling hills of the southwestern United States. Yellow goldfields and purple filaree flowers bloom across rippling grasslands northwest of Los Angeles in Tule Elk State Natural Reserve. Some 300 miles to the east, fields of golden desert dandelions, pink red maids, and purple stalks of indigo bush frame the brick-colored sandstone peaks of Nevada’s Red Rock Canyon. To the south, across the Mojave Desert, violet pockets of sand verbena and yellow-orange desert sunflowers erupt from Anza-Borrego Desert State Park’s sandy crags. This explosion of wildflowers is the region’s first “superbloom” in three years, prompting thousands of visitors to hop in their cars and drive hundreds of miles to witness nature’s spectacular flower show.

As research ecologist Daniel Winkler told The Los Angeles Times, scientists don’t have a clear definition of what constitutes a wildflower superbloom. It’s “really a cultural phenomenon, where people decide that there are enough flowers here, right now, that we’ll call it a superbloom,” he explained. Scientists do understand what causes these monumental bloom events, however—a series of dry seasons followed by a wet season.

Wildflower seeds are quite savvy and wait for a rainy season before growing. If soil conditions are too dry, they’ll lay dormant beneath the soil—sometimes for years. And after three years of severe droughts in the southwest, millions of wildflower seeds were ready to bloom at the first sign of rain. The deluge finally arrived this past winter. During one of the region’s wettest seasons on record, some ​​78 trillion gallons of water rained down on California alone, according to meteorologist Ryan Maue’s calculations from National Weather Service data. All of that water following a years-long drought created the perfect conditions for a wildflower superbloom event and Mother Nature did not disappoint.

The buds started popping up in mid-February. And now, in April, the bloom is reaching its peak with millions of wildflowers blanketing the southwest. In June, the flowers are expected to slowly start to dwindle before disappearing entirely by July. Since we aren’t all lucky enough to be within driving distance of these vast wildflower vistas, Atlas Obscura compiled photos of this year’s superbloom so that we can all smell the California poppies and lavender-blue sprays of lacy phacelias.

Just 50 miles southeast of downtown Los Angeles, a field of California poppies paints Walker Canyon a vibrant orange. The poppies appear in several Indigenous legends. In one Chumash story, a talking lizard describes the flowers by saying, “it is as if the sun itself is on the ground.”
Just 50 miles southeast of downtown Los Angeles, a field of California poppies paints Walker Canyon a vibrant orange. The poppies appear in several Indigenous legends. In one Chumash story, a talking lizard describes the flowers by saying, “it is as if the sun itself is on the ground.” Watchara Phomicinda/MediaNews Group/The Press-Enterprise via Getty Images

A field of vibrant yellow California poppies surrounds a towering saguaro cactus in Arizona’s Picacho Peak State Park, 40 miles north of Tucson. These tree-like cacti can grow to be more than 40 feet tall.
A field of vibrant yellow California poppies surrounds a towering saguaro cactus in Arizona’s Picacho Peak State Park, 40 miles north of Tucson. These tree-like cacti can grow to be more than 40 feet tall. Tonia Graves/Alamy

Visitors walk among the yellow goldfield flowers that carpet the Carrizo Plain 120 miles north of Los Angeles. The plain stretches 43 miles and is home to thousands of migratory birds and the largest alkali wetlands in California.
Visitors walk among the yellow goldfield flowers that carpet the Carrizo Plain 120 miles north of Los Angeles. The plain stretches 43 miles and is home to thousands of migratory birds and the largest alkali wetlands in California. George Rose/Getty Images

This aerial shot shows orange and yellow poppies carpeting southern California’s Antelope Valley. Herds of 100-pound pronghorns, nicknamed “American antelope,” once roamed here, giving the valley its name. But by the 1880s, the herds were gone, having been either hunted or relocated to other areas.
This aerial shot shows orange and yellow poppies carpeting southern California’s Antelope Valley. Herds of 100-pound pronghorns, nicknamed “American antelope,” once roamed here, giving the valley its name. But by the 1880s, the herds were gone, having been either hunted or relocated to other areas. Tayfun Coskun/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images

Two women take turns photographing each other in the flowers blanketing Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve, a 1700-acre state park 50 miles north of downtown Los Angeles. In 2019, throngs of people flocked to the park, trampling poppies for the sake of a picture-perfect Instagram shot. One couple even landed a helicopter in the middle of the poppy fields. In subsequent years, officials have carefully monitored visitors coming to catch a glimpse of the wildflowers.
Two women take turns photographing each other in the flowers blanketing Antelope Valley California Poppy Reserve, a 1700-acre state park 50 miles north of downtown Los Angeles. In 2019, throngs of people flocked to the park, trampling poppies for the sake of a picture-perfect Instagram shot. One couple even landed a helicopter in the middle of the poppy fields. In subsequent years, officials have carefully monitored visitors coming to catch a glimpse of the wildflowers. Francine Orr/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

Twenty miles south of San Bernardino, California poppies dot ​​the rocky hillside of Steele Peak. Early Spanish colonists called the vibrant flower <em>dormidera</em>, which means “to fall asleep,” since their petals fold in at night.
Twenty miles south of San Bernardino, California poppies dot ​​the rocky hillside of Steele Peak. Early Spanish colonists called the vibrant flower dormidera, which means “to fall asleep,” since their petals fold in at night. David McNew/Getty Images

Purple and yellow wildflowers bloom in front of Arizona’s Superstition Mountains. According to legend, an 1840s gold mine, known as the “Lost Dutchman's Mine,” is hidden somewhere in the mountains. But all who have tried to find it have left empty-handed; the most unlucky treasure seekers have even faced injuries or death.
Purple and yellow wildflowers bloom in front of Arizona’s Superstition Mountains. According to legend, an 1840s gold mine, known as the “Lost Dutchman’s Mine,” is hidden somewhere in the mountains. But all who have tried to find it have left empty-handed; the most unlucky treasure seekers have even faced injuries or death. Alexandra Buxbaum/Alamy

Two people zipline over the fields of poppies in Corona, California, just south of Los Angeles. Part of Skull Canyon Ziplines, this and other courses sail 80-to-300 feet above the wildflowers.
Two people zipline over the fields of poppies in Corona, California, just south of Los Angeles. Part of Skull Canyon Ziplines, this and other courses sail 80-to-300 feet above the wildflowers. FREDERIC J. BROWN/AFP via Getty Images

Some 80 miles north of San Diego, a luminous blanket of wildflowers spreads over the rolling hills and valleys in Perris, California. An old railway city, Perris is also home to the Southern California Railway Museum partially housed in the old, 20th-century Pinacate railway station.
Some 80 miles north of San Diego, a luminous blanket of wildflowers spreads over the rolling hills and valleys in Perris, California. An old railway city, Perris is also home to the Southern California Railway Museum partially housed in the old, 20th-century Pinacate railway station. David McNew/Getty Images