Up to the Hudson Ice Meadows

I carried my search for Creeping Spearwort up to Warren County today, to explore a remarkable habitat along the Hudson. There's a stretch of the river that runs about 8 miles north of Warrensburg that constitutes one of New York's rare native grasslands. A grassland along this rocky river, you ask? Well, yes. And one that gets mowed every year by moving ice.

Up here the Hudson tears down from the mountains with a current too swift to ever freeze solid, despite winter temperatures that run to more than 30 below. Instead, the ice forms rolling masses ("frazil ice") that heap up on the banks all the way to the trees, removing any woody growth that might shade out the remarkable variety of native flowers that flourish along these "ice meadows." Also, all those ice piles on the shore chill the land well into the spring, creating habitat for rarely-found plants that would normally grow much farther north.

I didn't find any "rare" plants today -- nor that Creeping Spearwort, either -- but I did find a really wonderful mix of lovely summer flowers. The asters were out in full force: clumps of tall Flat-top Aster bending in the breeze . . .

. . . sturdy Purple-stemmed Aster studding the beach with pretty lavender blooms . . .

. . . and tiny-flowered Calico Aster poking up among the rocks.

That Canadian Burnet I'd sought for years along "my" stretch of the Hudson at Moreau, flourishes abundantly here, along with all kinds of goldenrod. Another golden-flowered plant, Shrubby Cinquefoil (Potentilla fruticosa), grows happily here, and I was happy to add this heretofore unfound plant to my wildflower life list.

Those were the showy plants anyone could see at a glance from the road. But pushing my way through tall sedges and grass and teetering along the boulder-strewn beach, I found a number of little blooms hiding among the overgrowth. Most abundant was Kalm's Lobelia (Lobelia kalmii), which grew just everywhere, its slender stems and needle-fine leaves seeming too delicate for this harsh open habitat.

Equally dainty, the pale-blue Marsh Bellflowers (Campanula aparinoides) . . .

. . . and vividly purple Harebells (Campanula rotundifolia) sprawled everywhere among the grasses and out on the open rocks.

I found just one plant of Slender Gerardia (Agalinus tenuifolia) and I'm very glad I did. I used to find this flower growing abundantly at Orra Phelps Nature Preserve, but trees have grown up to shade its habitat there, so it disappeared. That frazil ice keeps the trees from growing up here.

And here's another flower the trees have shaded out of Orra Phelps: Nodding Ladies' Tresses (Spiranthes cernua). My wildflower journals tell me I don't usually find this dainty little white orchid until September, but here it was just coming into bloom. I found about ten plants in different places along the shore, so it seems to like it here. Hooray!

Right next to the water, with its feet in the wet, I found Horned Bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta) standing straight up on delicate stems. Unlike its cousin bladderworts, which float unrooted on water, this species actually grows on land -- damp land, but land, not water. Hmmm. I wonder how it eats? Its tiny leaves grow beneath the soil and it doesn't have inflatable bug-eating bladders, as its cousins do. Or does it? Anybody know the answer?

I explored just a few hundred yards of this amazing habitat today. With at least 15 miles of shoreline remaining for me to prowl, you can bet I'll be back. The chief botanist of New York State has told me Creeping Spearwort grows along here. I'm counting on him to be right.

Sidewalk Flower Finds

August is houseguest season at our house, and since not all guests are up for prowling the woods and the waterways with me, strolls around Saratoga Springs become my way to get my nature fix. And you know what? All kinds of cool little flowers pop up from the cracks in the sidewalk or along back alleyways.

Abundant clumps of this Purslane (Portulaca oleracea) grow just outside Bailey's Tavern on Phila Street, a couple of blocks from my home. If it weren't for my fear that too many dogs (or drunks) had peed on it, I would pick it and bring it home for supper. Not only does it taste good either raw or cooked, it's among the most nutritious of plants, containing more Omega 3 fatty acids than any other leafy greens. It's also really pretty, leaves so plump and glossy green on sprawling reddish stems. The tiny yellow flowers open for about five minutes each summer (so it seems!) so I felt pretty lucky to find it in bloom.

Another tasty -- and beautiful -- sidewalk weed is Asiatic Dayflower (Commelina communis). There is a native dayflower (C. virginica) that grows further south, but this introduced species from China is the one I find here and there all over Saratoga. On morning walks only, though. It closes those radiant blue petals by early afternoon. The young leaves are sweet and crisp eaten raw, while the older ones can be cooked like any green. The flowers make colorful additions to salads and dips, and even the seeds taste good. I'm waiting for some to ripen so I can see if they taste the way I heard they do: like raw sweet corn.

Some people say Pineapple Weed (Matricaria discoidea) is edible, but I tasted a flower once and found it bitter. It smelled good, though, quite a bit like pineapple. I guess the leaves make good tea. Or insect repellent. Just crush the leaves and flowers and rub it on. Smells better than DEET and doesn't melt your glasses. This clump was growing around a STOP sign at the bottom of Caroline Street.

Don't try to eat Scarlet Pimpernel (Anagallis arvensis). It will give you a bad stomach ache. It's pretty to look at though, if you can find it in bloom. It closes up if the sun stops shining, or even if the barometric pressure drops in anticipation of rain, which explains one other of its common names: Poor Man's Weatherglass (or Barometer). The only place in town I find this plant is in a little garden patch in front of the Adelphi Hotel on Broadway. The gardener keeps weeding it out but it keeps coming back. Hooray for weeds!

A Drive in the Country

Another beautiful day, mixed clouds and sun, a little cool for August. I've learned not to go to the river on weekends (too many motorboats), but I wanted to get out of town. Racing season in Saratoga Springs brings a lot of downstate "attitude" to our normally pleasant little city, so it's a good idea to head for the hills, especially on weekends. Which I did. I drove among beautiful rolling hills and down country lanes where the trees meet over the road, past farms and orchards, sun-dappled woods, corn fields golden with tassels, and meadows where mares and their foals went running with wind in their manes. There's a splendid rural area above Saratoga Lake, just outside of town, with winding roads that I learned by heart all the years I travelled the county for Hospice.

During those years I also discovered where special wildflowers grow, and today I headed straight for the place where Great Lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica) thrives. This radiant blue flower likes low, damp spots with a little shade, and today they were in their glory.

A fascinating thing about this plant is the way its stamen curves outside its flower tube, then re-enters through a split top lip when a bee lands to go for the nectar. As the bee dives into the flower tube, the anther bops its fuzzy little butt with pollen.

For some reason this photo appears rotated to the left, no matter how I try to change it.

The stamen protruding through the split lip should be at the top of the photo.

Another flower with an interesting shape is Horsemint (Monarda punctata). Its yellowish purple-spotted flowers grow around the stem, but the first thing you see are the pale lilac bracts instead of the flowers. Luckily, butterflies don't have any trouble telling which is which. This is a favorite nectar plant for the endangered Karner Blue.

Except for the waving plumes of goldenrod (have you ever seen it grow as tall as it has this year!) and the asters arriving soon, most of the roadside flowers are long-ago introduced species like Chicory and Queen Anne's Lace. And this sunny yellow Elecampane (Inula helenium) that looks like a raggedy sunflower. I don't know much about this plant. Was it ever cultivated for seed or medicinal use? I don't find it very often, so I guess it's not invasive. (See postscript below.)

But even invasives can be lovely, as evidenced by these clumps of Purple Loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria) sharing an abandoned barnyard with goldenrod and other flowers.

Our natives are not to be outshone, however. How pretty is this clump of Boneset (white) and Joe-Pye Weed (pink) growing along an old farm pond?

Many roadsides now are lined with what looks like dusty pink fluff. A closer look reveals that these plants are Rabbit-foot Clover (Trifolium arvense), another introduced species. And an even closer look reveals how really pretty they are.

We do have some native species of clover, or rather, bush clovers, a genus called Lespedeza. There's one called Round-headed Bush Clover (L. capitata) that lives up to its name, all right, with globular flower heads on tall leafy stems. Truth be told, it's kind of coarse and really not very pretty. Unless you see it up close.

Postscript: All it took was a quick visit to Wikipedia to learn all kinds of interesting stuff about Elecampane. I won't repeat much of what you can learn by clicking here, except to point out that its root contains the substance "inulin," which is currently used by food manufacturers to boost the fiber content of all kinds of foods -- like Activia yogurt, which is supposed to make you poop when you should or your money back. Most exciting, however, is research that seems to indicate that this plant contains an antibiotic substance effective against the dreaded MRSA (Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus) bacteria. And I thought it was just another weed. Goes to show you, there's something new to learn every day.

Slasher Along the Trail

Two beautiful days in a row! I hope this trend continues and we get a little high summer before summer ends. To celebrate, I headed to Bog Meadow Trail, just east of Saratoga Springs. I'd had my eye on a pretty little orchid, Downy Rattlesnake Plantain (Goodyera pubescens), that grows in a couple of spots along that trail. Last year I found about ten spikes of these waxy white flowers on furry stalks rising out of beautifully patterned evergreen basal leaves. But this year it looked as though only one plant would bloom. Orchids are like that. You just never know when they're going to go into a snit and refuse to set flowers. At least I knew where one was growing, and I wanted to try to get a good photo of it.

I came down to the trail on a new spur that leads from a housing development, descending through an open woods and crossing a swampy spot before it reaches the main trail that follows an old railroad bed. There in that woods was this big clump of mushrooms, the orange cluster of caps as bright as any pumpkin. Appropriately so, since I believe these mushrooms are Jack O'Lanterns (Omphalotus olearius). That's a good scary name for a species we should be afraid to eat, since they're poisonous. And they also glow in the dark.

As soon as I reached the main trail, I got a sinking feeling. Just last week this trail was lush with lovely ferns and overarching flowers like Showy Tick-trefoil. But today all that beautiful growth lay slashed on the ground, as if some semi-sized giant weed-whacker had ground its way down the path. O cripes! I said, they've done it again! Two years ago, I asked the folks who maintain this trail to hold off mowing until after frost, and I'd walked the trail with the man who mows it and showed him where to avoid the vulnerable flowers. We even tied bright pink surveyor's tape to mark the spots where plants of special interest grew. Like the state-protected orchid, Downy Rattlesnake Plantain.

I hurried to the spot where I knew it grew, and there it was, just as I feared, slashed by a blade and left lying on the ground. The flowers were not yet withered, so I managed to take the close-up photo at the top of this post, then laid the spike back down on its bed of evergreen leaves. The mower missed slashing the low-lying leaves, so at least there's hope the plant will recover in time. How ironic, though, that the blades did knock over the stick with the bright pink tape, the tape that was left to show where not to mow. There's a fine for damaging plants like these, but it's not very much, hardly worth filing a formal complaint about. But boy, is somebody going to hear about this! I am really mad.

Some Critter Companions Along the Shore

Thursday, August 6. For a change, it wasn't raining cats and dogs. Instead, it was raining frogs. At least, that's what it seemed like as I made my way along a quiet shore of Lake Moreau. With every step, a shower of little frogs, just out of the tadpole stage, I'd guess, went leaping off in all directions. The one in this photo -- a leopard frog or a pickerel? -- was less than two inches long. It must have thought it was camouflaged, because it didn't move while I shot its photo.

Here's another critter against a log, and one that signals approaching autumn to me. It's not until about this time each year that I first hear crickets singing outside my window at night. The katydids are making quite a racket as well.

This lovely deer must have been asleep, for I nearly stepped on it before it leapt away 50 feet or so, then turned to look at me. This photo makes it look like the deer is wearing a crown of golden leaves, like some kind of forest nymph. Well, why not?

The deer was resting near some Bear Oak trees (Quercus ilicifolia), with the prettiest bright green acorns that look like they're wearing tweed woolen caps. Do deer eat acorns? But these don't look quite ripe.

Of course, there were dragonflies everywhere, but this one's the only one that sat for a portrait. Is this a Whitetail Dragonfly? The tail doesn't seem quite fat enough, but I'm no expert, that's for sure.

I found the first Groundnut (Apios americana) flowers of the season, actually smelling them before I saw them. These convoluted blooms with a heady fragrance grow on a vine that has a roundish tuber for a root. I've heard that this tuber is good to eat (these plants are related to peanuts) and could help sustain you if you're lost in the woods.

I find their beauty sustaining in its own way.

Jewelweed Gleams in the Woods

It's Jewelweed time, and both the orange-colored Spotted (Impatiens capensis) and the yellow Pale (I. pallida) are now in bloom. If you see either one of them blooming along your path, be sure to stop and take a closer look. Even on days when the weather is dry, they may be exuding a crystalline drop that gleams like a jewel in the damp shady areas where they grow. Perhaps that's how they got their name.

One interesting fact about these plants is that, unlike the vast majority of our wildflowers, they are annuals, growing up to great heights (often six feet or more) entirely from seed each summer. They love marshy spots, where they crowd out all their competition with dense stands. According to John Eastman, who writes about these plants in his Book of Swamp and Bog, "this situation -- an annual species achieving persistent habitat dominance over long-lived perennials -- is unusual in plant ecology."

If you're susceptible to Poison Ivy, it's a good idea to know where to find Jewelweed. Their stems and leaves are succulent with an astringent fluid that can neutralize the toxic oils that cause Poison Ivy rashes. Just mash up a bunch and smear it on where your skin has been exposed. I've heard it works to relieve the itch of insect bites as well.

Another name for Jewelweed is Touch-me-not, which undoubtedly comes from the way the ripe seed pods behave. These pods hang from the plants like fat little beans, and all you have to do is just touch them and POW! they explode between your fingers, the outside splitting and curling back like tiny coiled springs, while the seeds inside are catapulted outward. Since this is the way the plant spreads its seeds, you'd think it would rather be called Touch-me-Please. (:D) Anyway, if you manage to catch some seeds as they fly, peel back the coating and inside you'll find a tiny bean of the loveliest robin's-egg blue. There's nothing about these plants that isn't beautiful.

The Summer Ripens as Autumn Nears

Here it is, already August. But it seems the summer has yet to begin, what with all the rainy cool weather. And yet the goldenrods wave their golden plumes along every roadside, and the early asters are starting to bloom in the woods. I keep telling myself, no, no, our summer is not yet over, but many plants are already acting as if autumn were on its way.

Here and there, Virginia Creeper is starting to turn its lovely lipstick red.

The Round-leaved Dogwood shrubs are heavy with Easter-egg colored berries that are ripening to pale blue.

The Mountain Holly berries have ripened to knock-your-eye-out brilliance.

Red Trillium has produced a fruit as rosy as any apple.

I've been watching this Ginseng plant all summer for fear that some foraging herbalist might dig it up. It was hiding well among Wild Sarsaparilla's similar leaves, but now that its fruits are ripening, I'm afraid it has blown its cover.

The same goes for this Goldenseal. A very rare and sought-after plant around these parts, it has leaves that all summer were camouflaged by surrounding Virginia Creeper. But now those bright red fruits might give it away.

Enduring a Downpour

Oh man, but it did pour! I thought the rain had stopped when I set out today for a walk along Bog Meadow Trail, but the hiatus didn't last long. Luckily, I wore my raincoat and also my boat shoes, because, by the time I got back to my car, I was wading through ankle deep water. I carried my camera under my coat, but managed to sneak it out for a few shots.

Most flowers with petals were much too bedraggled to sit for their portraits today, but I did catch this field of Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) looking only a little worse for the soaking.

And beautiful Virgin's Bower (Clematis virginiana), a native wild clematis, also appeared undrowned.

Common Dodder (Cuscuta gronovii) has teensy tiny flowers and stems that look like some kid went wild with a can of orange Crazy String. Those stems twine tightly around the stems of other plants, absorbing the host plant's sap with tiny suckers. I'll bet there's lots of sap to go around this summer, what with all this rain.

The berries of Panicled Dogwood (Cornus racemosa) will eventually turn porcelain white, but the pedicels that hold them will remain this riotous shade of hot pink. The effect is mighty nice even with green berries, but just wait until fall when the leaves turn burgundy red and the berries white. Spectacular!

These odd white knobs pushing out of a birch I'm guessing will later assume some kind of shelf shape. So I think these are baby fungi just being born. Kind of cute, don't you think?

My Newcomb's wildflower guide tells me this native thistle is common, but this is the first time I've ever found Swamp Thistle (Cirsium muticum). And I found just this one. Growing in a swampy spot. (Where isn't it swampy this summer?) The flowers aren't open yet, but the buds are pretty. And I have a brand new plant to add to my wildflower life list. Ta da!

How do I know this thistle is not just any other thistle? See how the base of the flower head is covered with fine cobwebby hairs? That's its most distinguishing feature.

Lost and Found

Wow! Another beautiful day! That makes two in this otherwise rainy week, and lucky me, I was free to enjoy both beautiful days with a paddle on the river. And today I was doubly lucky: I found two flowers I'd been seeking for years and thought I would never find again. And both of them were growing on my beloved stretch of the Hudson.

I'd set out to search for a third lost flower, called Creeping Spearwort, and I headed to what should have been a likely spot: a damp muddy shore where a creek runs into the river. A beaver-cleared low-lying spot, the whole area blazed with Cardinal Flowers, glowing-red spikes towering above the hip-high sedges and Royal Ferns.

My hopes for finding the spearwort weren't high. Looks like the same old same-olds, I thought, as I pushed through Cardinal Flower and Boneset and Monkey Flower and Joe-Pye Weed (the same old same-olds here, I must say, are pretty gorgeous!). So I almost missed this low-growing weed with the plump little yellow-green flowers. Why, bless my stars, that's Ditch Stonecrop, I cried, amazed to find a flower I last found about 12 years ago along these same shores but never again until now. None of my wildflower sources list this plant (Penthorum sedoides) as rare (although it is listed as of "special concern" in Rhode Island), so I don't know why I hadn't found it. Maybe because it's so small and plain, I just didn't see it. I know where to look for it now.

I also saw two beautiful bugs while prowling that place. Here's a little brown beetle whose colors remind me of houndstooth tweed, sampling the wares put forth by Water Parsnip (Sium suave). This flower looks almost exactly like that of Water Hemlock, but its leaves distinguish this plant from its deadly poisonous Parsley Family cousin. Although bugs seem to eat that one, too.

This gorgeous dragonfly put me in mind of Rhonda Fleming (guess that dates me, doesn't it?). I seem to remember a long-ago photo of her in a red satin slip that was trimmed with black lace. And if you click on my photo you'll even see long black eyelashes. Get the picture? (Anyone know this one's name?)

I don't know what possessed me to paddle across the river and mosey along the Warren County shore of the Hudson. I just felt the urge. Maybe it was this Canadian Burnet (Sanguisorba canadensis) calling to me across the water. On long thin stalks that waved in the breeze, its feathery white flower spikes curled like beckoning fingers. "Here I am, Jackie, come here, come here."

Now, this plant is listed as threatened or endangered in at least nine eastern states, but not in New York. It's not very common here, though, since I haven't seen it since at least 1998 (that's when it stopped showing up in my wildflower journal). I wonder if I'll find it again next year.

I would have stayed longer along that shore, but once again, Jet Skis were tearing around on the river, creating wakes that sloshed over my gunwales at times. So I headed home, hauling my boat and my soaking wet rear up a hill through a hemlock woods. A couple of finds along that trail offered some compensation for being chased off the water. Here's Pinesap (Monotropa hypopithys), a tan-colored cousin of Indian Pipe that usually grows under pines. I guess hemlock was close enough.

And this Gomphus floccosus was glowing like a coal in the dark conifer woods. It's commonly known as Wooly Chanterelle, and its bright orange interior is usually covered with wooly scales. Today, however, those scales were slicked down by the water collected inside. Another name for this fungus is Vase Chanterelle. For good reason.

By the way, I never did find that Creeping Spearwort. But the day's discoveries convinced me I should never give up hope.