Trillium Season's Last Act

A Facebook friend's post alerted me that the Nodding Trilliums (Trillium cernuum) are now blooming along Bog Meadow Brook Nature Trail in Saratoga Springs.  What? Already?  The last of our trilliums to bloom around here?  It seems the "trillium season" just began a few days ago, although it was most likely more than six weeks ago I found the first Snow Trilliums emerging in the still-frigid woods of late March, followed a few weeks later by the Red Trilliums, then only a few days later the Large-flowered Whites.  And then, having just found some Painted Trilliums in full flower, I found it hard to believe the Nodding Trilliums were already blooming.  But seeing is believing, so off I went this week to see for myself.

As this photo displays, I sure couldn't see any trilliums at first sight, along this greening-up trail.

But Nodding Trilliums like to hide beneath all that trailside shrubbery. And sure enough, it didn't take more that a few yards along before my friend Sue spied the first one, well under the shrubs and about to be overtopped by Skunk Cabbage leaves.  If the bright-white flower had been hiding under its own leaves (as is its habit), I doubt we would have noticed it. Happily, this was the first of many we found in perfect bloom today.

Here's the typical posture for Nodding Trillium's flower.  Nodding, well beneath the leaves. Often, completely hidden.

The flower must be inverted to examine its intimate parts, noting its white ovary and dark purplish anthers held on longish filaments.  By contrast, the anthers of the Red Trillium (T. erectum) are pale, nearly white, and basically sessile to its ovary, which is dark red.  Both species of trillium grow along this trail, but the Red Trilliums usually fade before the Nodding Trilliums open their flower buds. Some overlap in bloom time does occur, however, which in some years results in some interesting hybrids. (See my post from 2019 when I first discovered some results of this gene-sharing between the two species.)

And sure enough, we found a trillium flower this day that looked as if it could be a hybrid, with nearly red petals but with a white ovary and non-sessile anthers borne on filaments. But the petals and sepals are not as retracted as would be more typical of a Nodding Trillium.  A real blend, it seems, of both species.

So beautiful! I'm surprised no horticulturalists have developed such a hybrid for the commercial market.

My Facebook friend had alerted me about finding this odd trillium, advising me that I would find it beneath where a flowering crabapple tree was in bloom. And that was exactly where my friend Sue found it.  And look!  The crabapple's pure-white flowers were streaked with dark pink!  Did that hybrid trillium growing beneath cast its magic spell on these flowers too? (Ha ha!)

As we continued our walk, I searched for -- and did find! -- this burgeoning cluster of Rose Twisted-stalk (Streptopus lanceolatus).  From above, one might never guess there were tiny pink flowers dangling beneath.

The pretty flowers are certainly worth crouching down low to see. I rarely find this plant in my other Saratoga County wanderings, so I'm awfully glad I know where to find it here (as well as just one other cluster some distance away along this same trail).  This species is much more common further north. (Cole's Woods in Glens Falls is a hotbed for them!)

There's one other flower I rarely encounter that grows along Bog Meadow Trail, and this was my lucky day!  The wee little blooms of Grove Sandwort (Moehringia lateriflora) were just beginning to spangle the trailside grasses with multiple blooms.  Although distribution maps indicate that this species is not the least bit rare in New York State, I hardly ever see it any place other than here. Such a cute little flower!

Here's a closer photo that better displays the fuzzy heart of the Grove Sandwort flower:

I was also really glad to see multitudinous developing leaves of Canada Lily (Lilium canadense) along this trail, and not yet find a single Scarlet Lily Beetle laying her eggs among them.  This gorgeous native wild lily used to abound along Bog Meadow Trail before that horrid bug started eating it down to the roots each summer. Is it possible that the beetle's larvae have eaten their fill at this location and moved on? Or that the natural control (a wasp) released some years ago has managed to put a stop to the beetle's depredations? Oh boy, do I hope so!

Aren't we lucky that no pests have developed a taste for either Dog Violet (Viola labradorica) or Wild Strawberry (Fragaria virginiana)?  Both native wildflowers were generously spreading their loveliness along the trail.

We saw only a single small plant of Red Baneberry (Actaea rubra) blooming today, but we walked less than half of the trail's two-mile length.  I imagine more are growing in the more forested stretches further along.

Since I usually associate Wild Ginger (Asarum canadense) with calcareous habitats, I have always been surprised to find ample patches of it growing along a limited stretch of the Bog Meadow Trail (which is actually more of a wooded wetland than an actual bog habitat).  And today I was doubly surprised, to see a Nodding Trillium finding a place among the ginger's big heart-shaped leaves. And look!  There's a vining stem of what looks like a young Glaucous Honeysuckle seeking some vertical object to climb on, off to the right.  Plus some sharply toothed Arrowwood leaves (top right) and a green-branched Field Horsetail stalk joining the wildflower party.

Too bad I didn't see this Northern Water Snake before I startled it off the path and into the trailside water. I know Sue was trying to get a photo of it curled in the grass (Sorry, Sue!) , and I was hoping to get a better look at the bulge in its length, perhaps its froggy lunch now being digested.

Rare Plants and Roadside Beauties

 For being just an amateur wildflower nut,  I feel I am one lucky nerd. In all my naive wanderings over the years, I have just by chance found so many rare plants that I've gained some genuine botanical experts as my friends.  And I am so grateful that they share some pretty exciting wildflower findings with me.  Not so long ago, I was told by one of my professional botanist friends that one really, really rare Shadblow species was about to bloom, and he even showed me exactly where to find it.  So of course, I went to look for it.  (Sorry, but the location remains a secret.)

At first, I thought I must be in the wrong place.  The shrub in question  -- called Nantucket Shadblow (Amelanchier nantucketensis) -- did not bear the bright-white flowers I associate with all other Shadblow species.  From a distance, it looked as if it might have already shed its blooms. Or have yet to open them.

But a closer look revealed that the shrub was indeed in bloom. The flowers were not exactly showy, with tiny spoon-shaped petals that were widely spaced around the sharply pointed green calyx lobes.  I was told that a very interesting feature of this species' petals is that the petals themselves occasionally bear pollen, a feature I myself could not detect.

Here's a different view of the flower. Perhaps that yellowish rim on some of the petals consists of pollen. As this photo reveals, this is certainly a very woolly species!

And the leaves are just as woolly as the calyx lobes.

From what I have read, the Nantucket Shadblow is a globally rare species, long thought to be found only in the Northeast Atlantic coastal areas from Virginia to Nova Scotia. But subsequent populations have been found in drier, more inland locations.  And the location where this patch is growing in northern New York State is far, far away from the coast!

That Nantucket Shadblow was not the only super-rare flower I visited this day.  In fact, not very far from the shadblow's site was a large marble outcropping studded with one of New York State's rarest flowers, the New England Violet (Viola novae-angliae), known to grow in only one very limited location in all the state. To judge from how these deep-purple flowers sprout up from cracks in the rock that are completely exposed to the elements, being rare doesn't necessarily mean fragile.

This little cluster of flowers and leaves reveals several of the New England Violet's distinguishing features. The most notable one is the long, narrow, tapering shape of the leaves, which are basal, not stem leaves.  The vivid purple flowers are noticeably hairy, and not just in the throat, but also with occasional hairs sprouting from the petals themselves. (Click this photo to enlarge it, and the hairs will be more evident.)

The stems of both leaves and flowers are also remarkably hairy, as this photo reveals.

Once I had feasted my eyes on these beautiful violets, I looked around this rocky site and found many other interesting plants.  In just a day or so, this cascading cluster of Eastern Red Columbine leaves  (Aqualegia canadensis) will feature gorgeous scarlet flowers dangling from the stems.

Sheltering beneath an overhanging rock ledge was this lovely cluster of dainty ferns. I believe they are Fragile Fern (Cystopteris fragilis), a species of fern known to grow directly from rocks.

Here was another rock-lover, Early Saxifrage (Micranthes virginiensis), remarkable for growing all by itself at this site, instead of in a spreading mass, and for sheltering beneath an overhanging rock instead of atop it.

Sated at last by observing those rare species to my heart's content, I found my way back to where I had parked my car along the road. As I ambled, I enjoyed the sheer beauty of the more commonly found native wildflowers that spread across the roadside banks.  Here, masses of bright-yellow Barren Strawberry flowers (Waldsteinia fragarioides) share the top of a rise with a scattering of tiny baby-blue Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea).

Here's a closer look at those pretty Barren Strawberry flowers . . .

. . . and the sweet little Azure Bluets, holding their dainty faces toward the sky, as if to reflect that azure radiance,

More violets!  Masses of them!  The pale-purple Dog Violet (Viola labradorica) is indeed a generous spreader, and who would resent such pretty flowers from taking up all the space they want along a dusty roadside?

The Dog Violet shares its flower stems with its leaves, and each leaf node is wrapped in a sharply toothed stipule.  I look for those sharp teeth to remind me of this small native violet's name: sharp teeth = canines = dog!  The older I get, the more I need such mnemonics!

It's easy to remember this frothy flower's name:  Foamflower (Tiarella stolonifera).

So, what is there about this Two-leaved Toothwort (Cardamine diphylla) to help me remember its name?  Both the vernacular and the scientific names remind me it has two three-parted leaves, but I wonder where the "tooth" part came from.  A quick Google query brought me this:  "Toothwort gets its name from the tooth-like projections that grow on the underground stems and rhizomes of the plant. These projections are actually leaf scars from the previous season's growth. The common name also refers to the shape of the roots, which are long, white, and pointy."  Well, that may be so, but I'm not going to dig up such a pretty flower to examine its long, white, and pointy roots. Maybe I'll just notice its toothed leaves.

Can we call this grassy plant a wildflower? Yes, we can -- in Latin, anyway. In fact, that way we can call it MULTIflowered! For this pretty plant is the Luzula multiflora, and it does bear clusters of multiple flowers . It is also known more mundanely as Common Woodrush.  But I like to look at its six-parted flowers bearing stamens and pistils and be reminded of lilies. This was just one of the many beauties that delighted me today, from the rarest to the most common!

Roadside Rock Garden Re-blooms!

Still suffering the remnants of a lingering cold and also a bit weary from overexertion on previous days, I was planning to lie low today, resting my weary bones on the couch, a cat close at hand (if he so deigned).  But a Facebook Memory showed up on my timeline, displaying the most glorious explosion of Early Saxifrage on the cliffs along Spier Falls Road on this date just a year ago.  Oh man, I can't miss this! And those cliffs are just an easy drive away!  Gotta GO! 

And I am so glad I did!  Singly, the flower of Early Saxifrage (Micranthes virginiensis) is hardly showy, just a wee little thing, plain white.  But when they bloom together by the thousands, they do put on quite a splendid show.

I was a bit worried about what I'd find, remembering how road crews had scraped the roadside rocks bare of all vegetation last summer.  And yes, as I approached the cliffs across from the Spier Falls Dam, I could see how many of the rocks closest to the road still bore the scars of that abuse. But masses of white flowers still persisted where they grew beyond reach of the scrapers.

High up on the craggy ledges, clouds of white looked like drifting mist against the dark spring-watered rocks, the flowers sprouting in masses out of velvety clumps of bright-green moss.

White disks of rock-clinging lichens echoed the white of the flowers.

Closer to the edge of the road, I could better admire the daintiness of the blooms.

This pair of blooms had found the perfect foil to show off their beauty: a wall of dark rock behind, a cushion of emerald green moss at their feet.

The flowers certainly do prefer to grow from cushions of moss. The moss holds the dampness from constantly dripping springs, providing a constant source of moisture and soil atop rocks that would  otherwise be exposed and bare. The various textures and colors of the mosses indicate more than one species thrives here.  I know that much of this clump is made up of a moss that craves constant wetting.  Spring Apple Moss is its name (Philonotis fontana), the "spring" part of its name indicating its preferred habitat, and the "apple" part suggested by the small round apple shape of its spore capsules.

Here's another lovely mix of mosses, a fine-leaved species called Common Apple Moss (Bartramia pomiformis), and a larger-leaved species called Marsh Cardinal Moss (Ptychostomum pseudotriquetrum).

I was surprised to find one of the apple-shaped spore capsules still persisting within the tangled leaves of the Common Apple Moss.

On my way home, I stopped off at a splashing spring to sip from its clear cold water and was delighted to see many clumps of this charming little flower called Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) blooming in the sunlit patches nearby.

A small, white-blossomed tree hung its branches over a bank, so I could detect the reddish bark, the flower clusters marching in a row along the twigs, and each twig sporting a terminal cluster of tapering serrated leaves, all features that distinguish the species called Fire Cherry (Prunus pensylvanica).

I climbed just a bit up a trail to visit a patch of Foamflower (Tiarella stolonifera) that I knew to grow there. I will be sure to return in a few days to see how these opening buds have yielded the lacy, lovely white flowers of this native wildflower. The leaves, emerald green marked with reddish mottling, were already as lovely as they will be.

(Here's what this Foamflower patch will look like when in full bloom: photo below.  Certainly worth the return to witness such starry beauty!)

Just across the road, a well-trodden path led down through a woods toward the banks of the Hudson River.  That Facebook Memory from a year ago had indicated I might find some Painted Trilliums (Trillium undulatum) blooming there now.  And wouldn't you know?  This was my lucky day!

The Woodlands Explode With Bloom!

After wondering when spring would ever stop retreating again to sub-freezing temps, well, this week it returned with a bang: my thermometer reads 80 degrees on this Sunday afternoon! And it was warm enough all last week to inspire almost all of our spring ephemeral wildflowers to burst into bloom, so quickly I could hardly keep up with them, dashing from woodland to woodland to document their progress. So I've been way too busy to sit down and do what it takes to post a blog.  But now I am scheduled to lead a wildflower walk in the Skidmore Woods in just a few days, and I want to tempt participation by showing my friends what awaits them in this beautiful limestone-underlaid woodland. So here's just a list, in alphabetical order, of much of what was happening in a Saratoga Springs woods just yesterday.

Bellwort, Large-flowered (Uvularia grandiflora)

An aptly named flower, the largest of our three local species of bellworts, distinguished by its inrolled perfoliate leaves and the slight twist of its long bright-yellow petals. Abundant in this limestone-underlaid woods.

Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)

I sure hope a few Bloodroot flowers remain by the end of the week, since many are already dropping their snowy-white petals and producing jade-green oval seedpods, which are really attractive in their own way. And not just attractive to us!  The pods are packed full of seeds that possess a flap of tissue that ants just crave, carrying the seeds off to their underground nests, where the ants devour the fleshy flap and discard the rest of the seeds, all ready to germinate to make new Bloodroot flowers. Thank you, ants!

Blue Cohosh, Early (Caulophyllum giganteum)

We in Saratoga are lucky to have both species of Caulophyllum growing near each other, this purple-flowered one and a later-blooming yellow-flowered one (see next photo).  That way we can see how distinctly the species differ.  Until the late 20th Century,  C. giganteum was not distinguished as a separate species, despite being even more common than the yellow-flowered one.  My 1975 edition of Newcomb's Wildflower Guide is remarkably comprehensive, and yet it does not even mention this species.  Quite probably, many of the old pre-1980 botanical records should have been labeled giganteum instead of thalictroides.

Blue Cohosh (Caulophyllum thalictroides)

This is the second species of Caulophyllum, which blooms about 10 days later than C. giganteum and with more yellowish flowers.  The two species grow within a few yards of each other in this woods, and yet they have not hybridized, as least not during the 30-plus years I've been observing them in the Skidmore woods.  When both species mature and produce their bright-blue seeds, they are difficult to distinguish without close examination.

Dutchman's Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria)

I only started seeing Dutchman's Breeches in this woods about 6 years ago, and to date I have found them only in one limited location.  Luckily, our wildflower walk's route will take us right to that spot!

Dwarf Ginseng (Panax trifolius)

This miniature Ginseng has none of the medicinal qualities that make its larger relative so sought-after to the point of extermination in many locations.  It is also easy to overlook, being very tiny.  And totally ephemeral. Once the flowers have dropped their seeds, all traces of it disappears from the forest floor. 

Early Meadow Rue (Thalictrum dioicum), male flowers

Early Meadow Rue bears male and female sex parts on separate plants, and these staminate flowers bear their pollen on long dangling anthers that shimmy in the slightest breeze, wafting their pollen to neighboring female plants, the flowers of which are much less noticeable, consisting solely of tiny pistils.  I could not find any female plants today.  But they'll show up when these anthers are ready to waft that pollen.

Elder, Red-berried (Sambucus racemosa)

The flowers of Red-berried Elder are actually the least showy stage of this native shrub, with rather scraggly clusters of off-white florets. When in bud, the large tight clusters of flower buds are shaded a lovely purple, and later, the berries the flowers produce are truly a knock-your-eye-out glossy red.

Fern, Bulblet (Cystopteris bulbifera)

Bulblet Fern loves to grow among limey rocks, in this case sprouting right out of a boulder's cracks.  I believe the Cherry-Twizzler-red stalks are distinctive at this juvenile stage, and when mature, the reason for their name will become evident, as small round clonal bulblets form on the underside of the fronds. The fronds also produce spores.  They don't take chances when it comes to reproduction!

Fern, Christmas (Polystichum acrostichoides), fiddlehead

Christmas Fern is one of the easiest ferns to ID, even if we don't immediately recognize the fuzzy curling fiddleheads that uncoil in the spring. But notice the still-green old fronds that have collapsed at the base of the plant. You can still detect the Christmas-stocking shape of each pinna, a feature that certainly suggested this fern's vernacular name.  Plus, this fern's fronds are still green during a northern Christmas.

Fern, Maidenhair (Adiantum pedatum), fiddlehead

I'm afraid my photo provides no reference to suggest how tiny these wee little fiddleheads are. But at least they are relatively easy to espy, especially when sunlight sets their translucent red stalks aglow.  And a search among the dry leaves revealed many dried-up remnants of this lovely fern's delicate fronds.

Fern, Walking (Asplenium rhizophyllum)

I'm sorry to report that I will not suggest any walk participants try to approach the cliffside boulder this Walking Fern had completely walked across, producing new fronds wherever the tip of an old frond touched the mossy carpet that underlies this spreading mass of ferns.  The climb to reach this boulder is not only steep, but the footing is terrible, consisting of jumbled rocks that could grab an ankle and break a leg.  Just ask me.  I was lucky.  I will point out this lime-loving fern from a safe distance along the trail.

Green Violet (Cubelium concolor), new sprouts

Yes, the long-pointed elliptical leaves of this plant don't look like those of most other plants we call violets, and neither do the stubby little lop-sided, greenish-white flowers that will dangle from the leaf axils along the 18-inch-tall stems.  But the Green Violet IS in the Violaceae Family, which might be more evident if you could see the three-parted pods that hold small round seeds. This is quite a rare plant in New York, although you would never guess that when thousands stand erect across acres of the Skidmore Woods, which has the kind of calcareous soil this plant desires. It used to go by the name Hybanthus concolor.

Hepatica, Sharp-lobed (Hepatica acutiloba)

Because of its rich calcareous soil, the Skidmore woods supports both the Round-lobed and the Sharp-lobed Hepaticas, and it seems that only the Sharp-lobed species is still putting forth a few flowers -- all of them white! This particular clump interested me because in addition to the relatively fresh flowers, many flowers had already faded to produce the rather pretty seed pods, and new leaves had replaced the withering over-wintered former leaves.

Leatherwood (Dirca palustris)

The presence of Leatherwood in a forest is usually an indication of lime-rich soil, and there are many of these interesting shrubs at several locations throughout the Skidmore woods.  Our earliest woody shrub to bloom, it is already putting out leaves as its small yellow trumpet-shaped blooms are fading. I found this yellow-abdomened wasp lingering among the leaves, and even when I tried to reposition it for a clearer gander, it seemed reluctant to move. Was it just sleepy or was it ailing?  I left it alone.

Mayapple (Podophyllum pedatum)

Lots of Mayapples are now pushing up from amid the brown leaves, a few with their wide leafy umbrellas already open wide, and some with new flower buds peeking up between two leaves, like a chick peeking out of the nest. Eventually, the leaves will overtop the bud as it produces first one big white flower and later its yellowish egg-shaped fruit, the only edible part of this otherwise poisonous plant. Poisonous it may be, but scientists have found that the Mayapple is an excellent source of podophyllotoxin, a compound used for making cancer-fighting chemicals.

Miterwort (Mitella diphylla)

Even at a casual glance, the elegant flower stalks of the Two-leaved Miterwort are certainly beautiful.  But to truly appreciate the unique beauty of this wildflower, you must look closely to marvel at the tiny florets surrounded by eyelash-fine fringe.

Mountain Ricegrass (Oryzopsis asperifolia)

For the first time in all my 50-plus years of walking the Skidmore woods, I came upon this grassy plant with the furry worm-shaped little flowers. I had found it before in other woods, where I learned its name, but only now did I inquire on Google whether this plant with "rice" in its name was edible. And there I learned that "the seeds of the plant can be eaten raw, cooked, or ground into a meal. The seeds are large and have a pleasant taste, but can be difficult to harvest because they drop easily from the plant. The seeds can be ground into flour and used to make bread, mush, pones, and dumplings."  Since I found only two plants amid an acre of woods, I thought it not worth harvesting.  Wrong time of year, too. And not my property.

Sedge in flower (Carex species)

There are many similar grass-like sedges populating the forest floor here, some with wide and some with slender and some with mid-width leaves, but all with fine yellow hair-like staminate flowers in terminal puffs, reminding me of tow-headed babies just getting up from a nap.  If the wide leaves are rumpled like seersucker, I might venture it could be the Seersucker Sedge (Carex plantaginea).  But if its leaves are a mix of widths (like this one), I haven't a clue.  I bet we might have some sedge experts on our walk who could put a name to every one.  (That's what I'm hoping.)

Shadblow species (Amelanchier species)

We have a number of different species of Shadblows that grow around here, but all bear flowers that from a distance, appear like a cloud wafting through the bare branches. I did not have my tree guide with me this day, and the forest floor around this tree's base was pretty muddy.  So I didn't walk up to it to assess its particulars.  I don't need to know the name to know that it's beautiful.  I let my camera's zoom bring its image a little closer to me, but not close enough to parse it out as to species.

Trillium, Red (Trillium erectum)

I find it odd that a trillium with such a floppy flower would have the specific name "erectum." I almost always have to tip this plant backward to get a shot of its deep-red flower. But this one was growing high on a bank, and I could just walk below it and point my camera upward.

Trillium, Red, white petals (Trilliium erectum var. album)

How do I know that this is a Red Trillium with non-red petals and not a White Trillium?  Because it has a deep-red ovary, typical of the species T. erectum.  And its petals are not the true white of a Large-flowered White Trillium (see next photo), but more of a yellowish hue.  A not uncommon variety of the Red Trillium.

Trillium, Large-flowered White (Trillium grandiflorum)

Most of the Large-flowered White Trilliums I saw this day were still in tight bud, but this one had opened far enough for me to be convinced of its species.  There were scads of them getting ready to bloom along the trail I will lead my friends on later this week.  And with such warm weather as we're having now, I think we are in for a real treat.

  

Trout Lily (Erythronium americanum)

Lots and lots of Trout Lilies thrive in this woods, but they have been blooming for nearly a week already.  I sure hope a few of these lovely lilies will wait to fade until after my friends will have had a chance to admire them.

Violet, Canada (Viola canadensis)

In an acre of rocky slope I searched and searched for the Canada Violets I was sure grew there. At least I found lots of their leaves to suggest they might be blooming later this week.  And then I found this one.  Hurray!  Isn't she lovely? Such a pure-white face with a bright-yellow center, and the backs of those petals are tinged with purple. They thrive amid chunks of limestone.

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Violet, Longspur (Viola rostrata)

The most abundant violet blooming now in this woods is the Long-spurred Violet.  I would guess there's no question about how this pretty flower acquired that vernacular name. I saw quite a lot of color variation among the flowers, from a deeper purple to nearly white and also this speckled pattern.

Wild Geranium (Geranium maculatum)

It won't be long before pinky-purple flowers will protrude from these speckled green leaves. This is one of our more generous native wildflowers, as pretty as it's abundant. I hope we see a few flowers by later this week. But even if not, the deeply-cut leaves are really lovely in their own right.

Wild Ginger (Asarum canadense)

Usually, I have to pick up the broad furry leaves of Wild Ginger to see if I can find its cinnamon-brown flower hiding beneath. But here on this Poodle-Moss-covered boulder, the leaves had kindly leaned back enough for me to clearly see the flower, resting atop the moss. This native wildflower is not related to the "pumpkin spice" ginger we buy in the grocery store, although if you scrape the dirt of its rhizome and take a nip, the taste is quite similar to that.

Wood Anemone (Anemone quinquefolia)

When this pretty white wildflower finds a site it likes, it spreads across the forest floor like a firmament of stars. Well, not quite as numerous, but in impressive numbers.

Wood Betony (Pedicularis canadensis)

We won't yet see this flower in bloom with its crown of yellow florets,  but its crinkly leaves are already much in evidence and with a beauty all their own.

Yellow Oak (Quercus muehlenbergii)

The Skidmore woods, with its calcareous soil, is the only place I can recall seeing this relatively unusual oak. Its shaggy bark does have a yellowish cast, and although we are not likely to find any mature leaves yet, we might search the forest floor to find leaves that display their distinctive tiny "nipples" at the end of each lobe.