OK, rain, go ahead and pour! As it's done every day this past week, too. Not many days ago, the land and its plants were desperate for rain's refreshment, and thankfully, I have a good raincoat. So off I went in the rain yesterday to a powerline above Mud Pond at Moreau Lake State Park. Midsummer's Eve had come and gone, which is when the Wood Lilies bloom at Moreau, and I did not want to miss them, rain be darned.
Well, I missed seeing the numbers of Lilium philadelphicum that usually bloom in this clearcut, but at least a few made it this year. (Luckily, they don't close their vibrant orange flowers in the rain.) Here's one:
So glorious, even when wet! But where were the dozens that usually thrive in this open grassy area under the lines?
OK, here's another. And there was one more, too (not counting this bud), in the next hundred yards or so. And that was it for this year. Was it the drought? The early heat followed by killing frost? Who knows? I am feeling thankful that at least I was able to lay my eyes on these.
There were other beauties here, as well. The Blunt-leaved Milkweeds (Asclepias amplexicaulis) were in full and fragrant bloom.
As with the lilies, I found fewer Blunt-leaved Milkweeds than in other years, and these big colorful flowers could hardly hide from view amid the grasses, standing so tall atop their stems.
This Small Milkweed Bug (Lygaeus kalmii) certainly had no difficulty finding its source of milkweed nectar.
This Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosus) would be hard to miss, thanks to its vivid color. If not for the rain, this spectacular milkweed species would likely be attracting numerous butterflies.
Lots of Frostweed (Crocanthemum canadense) thrives in the sandy soil here, and although it usually drops today's flowers by early afternoon, the cooling rain must have allowed it to remain open longer today.
The shrubs of New Jersey Tea (Ceanothus americanus) held tons of open blooms, beckoning pollinators to come and feast. But only a few braved the wet today. Mostly beetles, whose hard-shelled carapaces shed water handily.
Lots of Sweetfern plants (Comptonia peregrina) line the sandy path, so I could see their spiky fruits close up, without having to get my pant legs soaked.
It was hard not to get really damp, though, on the forested trail that circles Mud Pond, thanks to abundant rain-soaked foliage crowding the path. I have been walking this trail for many years, and never have I seen the trailside shrubs and herbaceous plants so lush and verdant. I wonder if all this abounding of greenery is in reaction to last summer's Spongy Moth defoliation. Plus soaking rains of late.
This sedge, for example, is usually just a bit more than ankle high in other years. This year, the leaves are much longer and far more luxuriant in appearance.
The rain had stopped by now, and wisps of mist rose above the mountains across the pond. I was astounded to notice that a giant beaver lodge, which had housed families of beavers for many years, had completely disappeared. How could that happen? Even abandoned lodges remain intact for a long time.
The above photo shows how Fragrant Water Lilies (Nymphaea odorata) have nearly completely covered Mud Pond. I climbed down the bank to approach the water and observe the flowers' beauty at closer range.
Right at the water's edge, an abundant patch of Swamp Candles (Lysimachia terrestris) was just beginning to open its yellow flowers.
Further up the steep bank, large patches of the related Whorled Loosestrife (Lysimachia quadrifolia) held whorls of slender-stemmed flowers that looked very much like those of the Swamp Candles. I have read that the two species can freely hybridize, but I have never seen any intermediate plants that might have been such hybrids.
Wild Sarsaparilla (Aralia nudicaulis) was growing so thickly along the trail I seldom could glimpse the separate flower stalks beneath the green leaves. Of course, by now, those flower stalks were producing fruits, not flowers.
But here was another Sarsaparilla -- Bristly Sarsaparilla (Aralia hispida) -- that holds its flowers and fruits well above its leaves. This species is not rated as a rare plant in our region, but I find it only occasionally, not in massive populations like those of A. nudicaulis.
Plenty of Maple-leaved Viburnum (Viburnum acerifolium) thrives in the woods around Mud Pond. These flattened lozenge-shaped green fruits will eventually fill out and ripen to become clusters of round dark-blue berries, just about the same time as the shrub's green leaves turn an amazing pinky-purple color in autumn.
The dark-green shiny leaves of Partridgeberry (Mitchella repens) carpet large areas of the woods near Mud Pond, and now those carpets are dotted with their bright-white flowers (as well as the bright-red berries left over from last fall). If you look closely at those berries, you will notice two blossom ends instead of the typical one. That's because it takes TWO of these waxy-white, furry-faced flowers to make one fruit, since the twin flowers are joined by a single ovary. These particular flowers are expressing their feminine aspect right now, each flower with a pistil protruding, ready to receive pollen from a neighboring patch. The flowers also possess staminate parts, but I am not sure if those male parts will emerge to waft their pollen to other populations, once their own pistils have been fertilized. Whatever. After all this discussion about sex parts, I have read that reproduction usually is achieved vegetatively, not sexually, anyway.
I expect I will always find our little native orchids called Checkered Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyera tesselata) SOMEwhere in the woods around Mud Pond. But I sure cannot count on finding them in the same place each year. I was despairing of finding any this year, since not a one could I find where they grew last year. Then WOW! I came to a site where I could count almost a dozen just standing on the path. Here are just two of them. I expect those tight buds will yield the small white florets in just a week or so. The checkered basal leaves persist through the winter. New ones will grow now.
Once I found those orchids, I decided my shoes were soaked enough and I'd had enough thrills for the afternoon. So I turned to retrace my steps the way I had come. Isn't it fun to see stuff coming back that you missed altogether going the other way? These spiky seedpods of Red Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) were there all the time, but I had not noticed them before. Cute!
I HAD seen these mushrooms before on this walk -- or others that looked exactly like them -- because they had sprung up all over the place. They were very small, just over an inch tall, and shiny from being wet. I suspect they might be one of the Marasmius species that pops up abundantly after rain. I hope this signals a marvelous summer for fungi.
It certainly looked like a marvelous week for Lowbush Blueberries (Vaccinium angustifolium), for I had never before seen so many or such large fruits on the blueberry patches I encountered when I emerged onto the powerline again. And this is really odd: some blueberry patches were loaded with fruits, some had none at all. Happily, I found this one, which was truly loaded.
And the berries were sweet and delicious!
Just before I reached my car, I saw the bright-white florets of Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) shining out from the shade of a roadside ditch. Years ago, I was told that Yarrow was not a native wildflower in America, but now most botanists recognize the ones that grow wild in the northeast as being most likely native. The vivid little Maiden Pinks (Dianthus deltoides) are not native, but who could resent their presence beautifying a roadside ditch? Especially when they look so pretty accompanying that Yarrow?
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