I'm still alive. But I've been in such a funk over so many horrors happening in the world -- the disastrous climate-caused floods and wildfires, and the slaughter of innocents on both sides in Israel, and the prospect of incompetents, felons, sex offenders, science-deniers, and drunkards about to take over my beloved country -- that I've figuratively pulled the covers over my head and numbed my distress by watching kitten videos instead of posting any blogs, afraid to start venting the rancor built up in me over the past few months. But finally there's snow on the ground and ice on the lakes and the wind has calmed down and my friends have been urging me out, and I've finally decided to snap out of this malaise and turn my attention to what's wonderful in the world.
And what could be more wonderful than an ice-covered, island-dotted Lake Bonita under a partly blue sky?
And even better, to have such great pals as Dana and Sue with whom to go exploring this fascinating lake?
For sure, this pretty mountain-top lake surrounded by miles of Moreau Lake State Park forest is worth visiting in every season, but it's only after deep winter's cold has made the ice thick enough, that we can venture out to explore the tiny islands that dot its surface. To protect the pristine waters of Lake Bonita, the park does not allow paddling here, so until we can walk out to the islands on ice, we would not be able to know what interesting plants thrive on these Sphagnum-paved habitats. As of yet this winter, we could even see this green-colored Sphagnum peeking out of the slight snow-cover.
It's actually the Sphagnum moss that creates an acidic habitat on each of the islets here, and several different colors and textures of Sphagnum indicate that a number of different species have found a home here. Here was one clump that displayed several colors at once:
All of these islets support species of plants that are typical of low-pH habitats like bogs or poor fens. The most populous of the shrubs that cover the rocky surfaces is the one pictured here, called Leatherleaf (Chamaedaphne calyculata). That vernacular name is quite appropriate, since the shrub's leathery leaves are tough enough to remain on the twigs all winter. (And a close look at these twigs would also reveal the flower buds already formed to be ready to produce some of the earliest flowers to bloom in the spring.)
Some of the Leatherleaf shrubs still retain the remnants of the pods that dropped their seeds last fall. These open pods now resemble small brown-and-tan flowers themselves!
The leaves of the second-most-populous shrub out here, called Sweet Gale (Myrica gale), dropped off long ago, but the twigs now hold the leaf and flower buds that will open in early spring. I love the mahogany-red, ivory-edged scales of the shiny buds that resemble tiny cones. Male and female flowers will occupy separate shrubs, but I cannot tell at this stage which sex these buds will produce.
It is obvious, though, that the pods pictured below were produced by the female flowers, after fertilization with pollen produced by the male flowers, since these pods carry the seeds. Just a touch of the pods releases the seeds to drop on the snow. That touch also releases the exquisite piney fragrance that no doubt suggested the "sweet" part of this wetland plant's vernacular name. The scent is quite similar to that produced by Bayberry and Sweet Fern shrubs. And that fragrance perfumes my mitten for hours to come!
The evergreen leaves of the islands' third most populous shrub, Sheep Laurel (Kalmia angustifolia), persist intact throughout the winter, each terminal leaf cluster riding high above the remnants of the flower clusters. This is the showiest of the islands' shrubs, with flowers of a vivid pink, many flowers in each cluster. Lucky for us spring landlubbers, this shrub also grows on the shore of the lake, where we can more easily see and enjoy its beauty in late May.
And here was the flower-stalk remnant of one more flowering shrub, very few of which occupy these islets. This one is called Water Willow or Swamp Loosestrife (Decodon verticillatus), and it, too, bears abundant clusters of pretty deep-pink flowers that circle the stems.
In addition to the above-mentioned woody flowering shrubs, a number of interesting herbaceous wildflowers also thrive on these little islands, and some bear persistent parts we can find even when snow lies deep over their locations. This time of year, we can't usually find the remnants of such low-growing plants as cranberry or sundews or ephemeral orchids like Rose Pogonias. But we often can see the flower stalks of Purple Pitcher Plants (Sarracenia purpurea), their bulbous floral parts now dried but still evident, standing tall on sturdy stems.
We even were able to find a few intact "pitchers" of the Pitcher Plants, the vase-shaped basal leaves that hold insect-drowning-and-digesting fluid, the main strategy by which these fascinating plants obtain their nutrients.
One of my favorite plants to find flowering at Lake Bonita is Marsh St. John's Wort (Hypericum virginicum), and lucky for us, this plant with its pretty pink-satin blooms grows along the shore as well as out here on the islands. It amazes me that such delicate-looking flowers produce these tulip-shaped seedpods that persist throughout the winter.
After cataloging all the plants we could identify from their winter remnants on the Lake Bonita islets, we headed to the north-facing shore to walk close along the Hemlock-shaded banks. Those Hemlock boughs formed a lovely deep-green foil against which the bud-studded, surprisingly scarlet twigs of Highbush Blueberries (Vaccinium corymbosum) displayed their remarkable color to full advantage.
The Buttonbush shrubs (Cephalanthus occidentalis), with their dark-colored seedpods now disintegrating, put on a much more modest appearance, compared to those Highbush Blueberries.
Bonita being a mountain lake, its shoreline presents occasional dramatic heights of steep bedrock, which Sue is approaching to see what fascinating mosses and lichens and liverworts might be spreading across the rocky surface or hiding within its cracks and crevices.
I loved the textures and colors of this snow-dappled moss-covered boulder.
This boulder was festooned with winter-curled fronds of Appalachian Polypody (Polypodium appalachianum), dangling down like Shirley Temple's tightly coiled sausage curls. (Wow, will THAT date me!)
According to the New York Flora Association's Plant Atlas,
P. appalachianum is a relatively recently described species that refined the description of
Polypodium virginianum, the name we used to call this rock-dwelling fern.
Although quite a few different species of mosses, lichens, and liverworts covered the surface of this vertical rockface, our friend Sue was particularly happy to find this gray-green squiggly-shaped lichen. Called Dragon Horn (Cladonia squamosa), it's not especially rare, Sue said, but she added that few sightings of it have been reported for eastern New York.
We found a couple of species of mushrooms while walking the shore, growing from fallen tree trunks and limbs. This tan-colored zonal shelf mushroom might have been mistaken for Turkey Tail, but its fertile surface was definitely gilled, not finely pored as that of a Turkey Tail fungus would be. Sue turned one over to display the obvious gills. That feature persuaded us that we had found a Turkey-Tail relative called Birchmaze Gill or Gilled Polypore (Trametes betulina).
The vivid color, hard texture, and glossy surface of these fungi suggested to me that they might be a species of Ganoderma. But I didn't take the time to examine them carefully, since my friends were hurrying to find the trail off the lake and up to our cars, aware of both cold feet and hunger for lunch. My feet were OK, but yes, a hot lunch was calling me, too. A couple of hours in fresh snowy cold will do that to a person.
I did stop my scurrying up the forested banks to admire the vivid green stuff decorating this mid-stream rock. The green stuff looked like both a moss and a liverwort, but as for which ones, I will just "let the mystery be." I was too hurried to get a clear-enough photo.
