Spring Pokes the Pause Button

This cold spell has been unrelenting.  Maybe later this week the weather will warm, but with still-below-freezing nights and still-frigid days all last week, it seems that nothing much has changed in the woods.  Well, HARDLY anything.  I ventured out to Bog Meadow Nature Trail Sunday afternoon, and I did note a wee bit of progress.

For one thing, the Skunk Cabbage spathes are all wide open now, and I love how those spathes have not only swelled but have lengthened and swirled in lovely voluptuous curves.

At first glance the swamp seemed as brown as it's been all winter, but a closer look revealed that the Marsh Marigold plants have begun to put out their green leaves.  It won't be long before the marsh is carpeted with the color of sunshine!

Along the little brook that follows the trail, I also spied some new growth on Water Avens plants.  Granted, these unprepossessing little flowers won't alter the landscape much when they bloom, but their leaves add a sprightly green aspect to the wakening woods.

It's hard to believe that a fungus would fruit with the nighttime temperatures still falling well below freezing, but seeing is believing.  And how did I manage to see this pitch-black Devil's Urn (Urnula craterium)?  Well, I was searching for the leaves of Spring Beauty and not finding a single one in a patch that I know will be carpeted with them, if only the weather would warm.  Wow!  What a cool mushroom!  A new one for me!

So that was about it for new finds at Bog Meadow yesterday.  But the day was young, so I ventured over to Spier Falls Road along the Hudson River at Moreau.  The road there is lined with spectacular spring-watered boulders that hold the sun's warmth.  Maybe I'd find some new spring growth among those sun-warmed crannies.

At first glance, that prospect didn't seem too promising, since icicles still hung from the rocks and more ice had coated the twigs and vines that hung over some tumbling cataracts.

AHA!  I FOUND something spring-like!  One of those ice-coated shrubs hanging over the splashing stream had sprouted little green leaves that sure look like those of Gooseberry.

And tucked in among the roadside boulders were these burgeoning buds of Early Saxifrage.  The rosettes of their pretty red-tinged serrated leaves have endured intact through the snow and ice and cold of winter, as well as this wintery spring.  But those tight little buds were not in evidence just a few weeks ago.  So yes, there is progress.  With a little more warmth, these roadside boulders will be a veritable rock garden, glorified by the lovely white flowers of Early Saxifrage set among the vivid greens of rock-clinging mosses.

Here's a particularly beautiful clump of mosses I found on those spring-watered boulders.  I love how those russety fern-like leaves of Thuidium have punctuated a splendid clump of soft-green, hair-fine Dicranum.  They probably looked just like this all winter long (mosses don't change much with the seasons), but they still spoke SPRING! to me.

Wildflowers B-r-r-r-ave the Return of Wintry Weather

Spring sure had us fooled for a while.  First, we had hardly any winter, and then it turned real warm real early.  Flowers started to open, tree buds started to swell, scarves and mittens and longjohns moved to the back of the bureau.  Then WHAM!  Snow fell!  The temperature dived!  And not just for a day or two.  Wintry weather has lasted most of a week, and it was still cold this Friday, even spitting a little snow now and then, when I ventured out to the Skidmore Woods to see how the first brave flowers had managed to cope with this wintry weather's return.  Or maybe they hadn't.

For sure, Hepaticas know how to cope.  They have these furry bracts they can pull their opening blooms back into.  And so they had.

The green rockets of False Hellebore had pushed on up, despite the cold, but they looked as if the frost had wilted some of those leaves.

The English Violets, too, looked rather the worse for the weather, their deep-purple petals marred with many white spots of freezing damage.  But they still smelled every bit as delicious as ever!

And for some of our sturdier flowers, the wintery cold has not dissuaded them at all from making their regular early April appearance.  These Giant Blue Cohosh were already up, complete with flower buds that seemed right on the verge of blooming.

No flower buds yet on the Trout Lilies, though, but lots of their speckled leaves were carpeting the forest floor.

I was really surprised to find these Leatherwood buds already dangling their yellow trumpets, since just a week ago those buds hadn't even yet begun to swell.  But the flowers did look a little bit crumpled, as if they had suffered some from freezing.  Our temperatures did drop into the teens for a couple of nights.

Actually, I was really grateful to find any Leatherwood flowers at all, since deer had once again browsed most of the Leatherwood shrubs, chewing off almost all of the flowering tips.

Beeches in Desperate Straits

"That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people.  There are no trees like the trees of that land.  For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold.  Not till the spring and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey."

-- Legolas, elf of the Woodland Realm, describes his homeland Lothlorien, in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. 

"I thought I had been transported to an enchanted elven forest today, as I walked in the silvery spell of a beech grove in the Skidmore Woods, a radiant sun pouring down warmth from a cobalt sky, the translucent leaves of the baby beeches fluttering in the slightest breeze, setting the air alight.  At last we had a lovely warm day that truly felt like Spring!"

I took this photo and wrote those words on April 8, 2013.  Today, April 8, 2016 (not at all such a sunny warm day!), I returned to that beech grove in the Skidmore Woods, and found that in just three years, almost all of those beautiful beeches were starting to die.  They are victims of a terrible blight, caused by a beech-scale insect infestation followed by a nectria fungal disease, which is well on the way to destroying every American Beech in our northeastern forests.  Here's what that smooth silvery bark looks like today, all blistered and pocked, the distinctive sign that this deadly blight is on its way to killing this tree.  And nearly every other mature beech tree in the vicinity.

It is truly heartbreaking to imagine the northeastern forest without these groves of silver and gold, and equally frightening to see how quickly this blight is doing its worst.  As far as I know, there is no treatment to stop it, at least not on the scale that could save vast stretches of beech forest.  But here and there, foresters are finding some vigorous individuals that appear to be unaffected, remaining in good health while all other beeches in the vicinity are succumbing. I have read that recent trials with some of these apparently healthy trees have shown them to be resistant to the scale, which offers some hope that methods can be developed to increase the levels of resistance in affected forests.  Dear God, we can only hope!

No! Maybe if I just ignore it . . .

Yeah, I know it snowed today.  It did yesterday, too.  And it's going to go well below freezing again tonight.  And be cold again tomorrow.  Did you want to see photos of what it looks like out there today?  Too bad!  I'm not gonna take 'em.  Instead, I'm going to look back to another year on the first week of April.  My Facebook page posted photos from then on my timeline again, reminding me of what my day was like four years ago.  It was also a cold day then, but a rainy one, and the promise of spring was everywhere to be seen, in so many beautiful ways, as I walked around the back bay of Moreau Lake.  Let's look at those photos instead.

The buds on the Shadblow trees were just about to burst into bloom, the snowy-white flowers still covered with pink bracts as rosy as any blossoms.  The boughs looked so graceful bending over the silvery rain-dappled water of the lake.

The Red Maples WERE in bloom, full glorious bloom of a vivid red that seemed to glow even brighter in the damp dark air of this rainy day.

Along the shore, the compound flower buds of Highbush Blueberry were just starting to expand, and each little bell-shaped bloom tucked within was blushed with a tinge of pink.

Back in the woods, the pink-tinted velvety leaf buds of Striped Maple curved erect from braceleted twigs.

On several steep banks along the back-bay shore, Trailing Arbutus had exploded into fragrant bloom, despite several days of freezing cold during the week before.

Even the hated Phragmites appeared quite lovely that day, especially when their vertical stalks were echoed by the reflected trunks of White Pines across the bay.

Aaah, that's better! Holding these images in mind, I can hold on for a few days more, knowing that soon our days will warm, this snow will be but a memory, and the glories of spring will burst forth.  Have faith!

Another Week Forward Into Spring

A lovely spring day today, soft and warm with bright sunshine, and boy was I ready for it!  I'd been laid up sick in bed since last Saturday, and I was truly eager to hit the trails.  Still feeling a little wobbly, though, I stuck to some local trails, first stopping right here in Saratoga at Skidmore College's woods.  And I certainly found my reward:  the English Violets were up!

Our earliest violet, the English Violet (Viola odorata) manages to make it through our sub-zero winters despite not being native to these shores.  As the above photo shows, its wintering-over leaves suffered quite a bit this year because of lack of snow protection, but its pure-white blossoms came through as unscathed as ever.  Note that its petals are not striped with purple veining as are most of our native violets, although it does have a purple-tinged spur.  It's also a deliciously fragrant violet, and it comes in a rich purple variety as well as this pristine white.

The Sharp-lobed Hepaticas were also just starting to bloom at Skidmore,  although I had to search and search to find a very few that had opened their furry buds.

Oh Hepatica!  One of the sweetest blessings of spring!  So pretty!

I next made my way out to Orra Phelps Nature Preserve in Wilton to see how the Snow Trillium had survived the few freezing nights we'd had since I found the first blooms last Friday.  Well, I'm happy to report that they are flourishing unscathed by the cold.  This diminutive trillium surely lives up to its name!

Unfortunately, I took a skidding fall on some slippery leaves out there, landing with my leg folded into a Z beneath my full weight.  I knew right away that I'd been hurt, but after checking to see if I could still bear my weight, I did manage to hobble back to my car and drive safely home.  Guess I'll be laid up again for a while with what seems to be a sprained ankle, swollen and painful.  Same leg as my shattered kneecap, but I hope recovery is faster.  Darn!  Just as the wildflower floodgates are starting to open!

Happy Easter!

It's almost Easter, and as Christians prepare to rejoice that the Lord is risen, we wildflower lovers also rejoice that the first REAL flower of spring -- one that actually looks like a flower -- has risen as well.  Alleluia!  The Coltsfoot is up!  The season of blooming is here!  These dear little sunny blooms, bursting forth in glory from out of the cold dead leaves, speak to me of resurrection far more than any pampered, florist-bred Easter Lily could.  Like God's love, they are freely given, they spring forth unbidden, there's not a thing we had to do to deserve them, nor a penny we have to spend to enjoy them.  Also, like the Incarnate One who dwelt among the lowly, they make their home among the poorest soils, brightening desolate roadsides where nothing else will grow.  Supposedly, they even have healing powers.  So bless you, dear little Coltsfoot.  It gives me great joy to welcome you once more.

Another little flower has risen today as well, and it surely seems like a miracle that such a dainty little flower as Snow Trillium would dare the freezing temperatures we are still having at night.  But it's also nearly miraculous that this aptly named flower, which may bloom while snow still lies in the shaded woods, can be found in our local woods.  Saratoga County is far north of Snow Trillium's native range, but thanks to the late noted naturalist Orra Phelps, we can find them where she must have planted them on the land that was once her home, now the Orra Phelps Nature Preserve on Parkhurst Road in Wilton.  Who cares about chocolate bunnies or candy eggs?  I found my Easter treat today, as sweet as any bon-bon.  (You can see how tiny this flower is, by noting the acorn cap next to it.)

New Access in the Works for Bog Meadow Trail

 A bright sunny day today, but blustery cold, after another freezing night.  It was nice enough, anyway, for a walk at Bog Meadow Nature Trail, but I wasn't surprised to find the pond skimmed over with ice again.  The sight of that ice dimmed my hopes that I might find Skunk Cabbage at last in bloom, but then I found one, with spathe fully opened and spadix studded with pollen-bearing anthers.  Ta da!  There it is, folks -- the first Skunk Cabbage flower of spring!

That was the only flowering one I found, however, with all the others around it still closed up tight.  Nevertheless, while it may be true that one swallow does not make a summer, one blooming Skunk Cabbage flower sure does mean that spring is truly here.  And there was also another spring thing going on today along Bog Meadow Trail, and that was a chorus of Wood Frogs croaking away in a hidden pond way off in the swamp.  I couldn't see them, but I could hear them.


Here was another great find today at Bog Meadow:  the hardest working trail steward you could imagine, Geoff Bournemann.  He just never stops finding ways to improve this already marvelous trail, and today he was working to improve the drainage in a stubbornly swampy spot.  Hard work, wielding a mattock and shoveling mud, but Geoff just seems to thrive on it.

I'm always glad to meet Geoff along this trail, and today he told me some excellent news about some new improvements for the future.    Parking for Bog Meadow occurs at either end of this approximately two-mile-long trail, but the parking for the Meadowbrook Road trailhead has always presented a bit of a problem.  The parking area, pictured here, is at least a hundred yards from the trailhead, requiring hikers to walk on the narrow shoulder of this rather busy road before they could start onto the trail.  But Geoff told me today that an old railway line has been located in the swamp just adjacent to the parking area, and that once permits have been obtained, trailwork can begin to create a new entrance to Bog Meadow Trail directly off this parking area.  This will be much safer for walkers, and will also grant some of us access to heretofore unexplored areas of the swamp.  Hurray!

Geoff told me that the trail path had already been flagged, so of course I had to explore this new route for myself.  As this photo reveals, the going was rough, for no clearing or grooming can occur until the proper permits have been obtained.  But I was able to push my way through scrub and scramble over fallen logs until I reached the swampy wet area that will be traversed by a boardwalk in the future.  I was exhilarated!  This will be so great!  A whole new swampy spot to explore!  Who knows what fascinating plants might be hiding back here?  I can't wait to find out.

Speaking of fascinating plants, I next returned to the spot on Bog Meadow Trail where last week Sue and I found the seed capsules of some kind of orchid.  (Our friend and orchid expert Andrew Gibson has guessed that this is most likely a Yellow Wide-lipped Twayblade.)  I wanted to see if I could find it again (I could!) and then to mark its location so that I might find it again when it blooms next summer.  I also wanted to mark its location clearly enough so that workers clearing that new access trail wouldn't damage the plants in the process.  Some pink tape on a nearby tree and a red twist-tie on a plant-stem adjacent to the orchid should do the trick.  Or at least, I hope so.  On my way back along the trail, I met Geoff again, told him how I had marked the plant, and asked him to do what he could to safeguard it during the trail-clearing process.  I know he will.

Spring is Here! Well, Sorta

Yes, it's official:  today is the first day of Spring.  But with temperatures below freezing at night and barely making it into the 40s during the day, it feels as if the season has taken a step backwards.  Tree buds had started to swell,  Spring Peepers and Wood Frogs had begun their noisy courtship, and even some flowers had opened their blooms, because of unseasonable warmth.  But they'd better just hold their horses!

I went looking for Hepatica buds in the Skidmore woods yesterday.  It's easy to find the plants because their green and maroon leaves winter over unchanged, making them quite visible on the otherwise brown forest floor .  But pushing aside the leaves and peering down at the bases of dozens of plants, I found only this one, with its furry buds peeking up from the warming earth.  I'm glad they are wearing their warm wooly coats, because they're going to need them these next few days.

Signs of Spring

Spring seems a bit out of whack this year.  That's not surprising, considering that we hardly had any winter to speak of. But since it's been so unseasonably warm, why the heck isn't the Skunk Cabbage blooming?  In all my years of wildflower hunting, I've always thought of Skunk Cabbage as the very first flower of spring.  But not this year.  For example, I've already found the sprightly red tufts of the female flowers of American Hazelnut.

And the dangling male catkins of Speckled Alder are already shedding their pollen on the slightest breeze.

And sun-warmed sandy banks are spangled with bright-yellow blooms of Coltsfoot, offering their treasures to visiting bees.

But so far, I've not yet found a single spadix of Skunk Cabbage tufted with anthers spilling their pollen.  And I've been all over, looking for them.  On Monday I went to Orra Phelps Nature Preserve, where in other years the muddy swales would be covered with gaping spathes, welcoming the earliest pollinators to their self-warmed interiors.  I found some swelling speckled spathes, but all were tightly closed.   On Tuesday I visited Bog Meadow Nature Trail, where Skunk Cabbage abounds in the swamp and along the trailside creek.  Same story: Closed-tight spathes.  No pollen.  Then on Wednesday, a sunny warm day that surely would tempt those Skunk Cabbage spathes to open wide their windows, I visited the Spring Run Trail in Saratoga Springs.  It sure was a lovely walk.

And look!  The Skunk Cabbage spathes were opening up, just a bit.  Were the spadices within those Morocco-red bulbous wrappings ready to welcome the flies that would be drawn to those rather odiferous interiors?

Nope.  Not yet. Another walker had stepped on a nearby plant, so I picked up the half-crushed spathe and broke off a portion, wanting to check on the ripeness of the spadix within.  Still very immature.  How strange!  I guess I can't call this the first flower of spring THIS year!

Ah well, I was glad to have walked this very pleasant Spring Run Trail, which follows an old railway right-of-way through wetlands on both sides.  This very handsome Mallard pair were also enjoying this sun-warmed day as they dabbled busily in a trailside flooded ditch and allowed me to gaze at length on their gorgeous colorful feathers.

Well, there are certainly other signs of spring to celebrate, and today, my friends in the Thursday Naturalists and I set off through the woods of the Ballston Creek Preserve in Malta, hoping to see if the Great Blue Herons had returned to their giant nests in tall tree snags along the creek.

And so they HAD! LOTS of them!

Just a day or so before, one of our friends had visited this heronry and had reported no residents as yet.  But this was our lucky day!  We not only were privileged to see many of these giant birds perched on the nests, but we also witnessed them pairing off, making what looked like affectionate gestures and actual matings as they once again laid claim to their breeding homes.


We also delighted in sighting the two pointy "horns" of a Great Horned Owl snuggled down in her nest, one she had usurped from the herons before they returned from their winter migration.  These owls, permanent local residents, start breeding as early as February, and they will be sitting on eggs even before winter's snowy cold and icy winds have ceased.  (We also spied in this same swamp the huge nest that is annually occupied by an Osprey pair, but we saw no signs of them today.)

On every side of us, wherever water had collected in vernal pools, we could hear the loud "quacks" of mating Wood Frogs, one of the earliest sounds of spring.  I crept closer to one of these pools and happened upon this froggy orgy, three males (the smaller frogs) all fiercely clinging to one female.

It didn't seem to matter to these fellows which end of their prize they were gripping.  And the truth is, it doesn't much matter, since froggy sex doesn't include penetration of the female by a male sex organ.  She will expel her eggs in the water and the males will release their sperm in the water to fertilize them.  But the sex drive still compels the males to strenuously grasp the female. The poor girl had to struggle to get her nose above the water!  In fact, females do occasionally drown in mating season.  Since they've already released their eggs in the water, Nature doesn't care if she lives or dies. But I do.  Taking pity on this poor creature, I lifted her (swains attached) to the bank, hoping she might just catch her breath, but she vigorously made every effort to get back into the water.  She had eggs to lay and she sure wasn't going to waste them on dry ground!


We happened upon another little critter of the spring woods, a Red Eft, first one we'd seen this year.  These adorably cute creatures are the terrestrial form of the Spotted Newt, which lives and breeds in water.

Just as red as that little Red Eft was this fungal growth on a rotting log that lay on the forest floor.  None of us knew what to call it, but I later learned (try googling "wrinkly red fungus") that its name is Peniofora rufa.  Or Red Tree Brain.  (Yeah, I can see how it came by that name.)  I couldn't call it a sign of spring, since it had been lying on the ground all winter, but it gave us naturalists a little jolt of joy to come upon something we'd not seen before and didn't know the name of.  Something new!  Nothing better for feeling young than learning something new.