Where Have All the Flowers Gone?

Glaucous Honeysuckle, one of our native American honeysuckles

My flower journal told me Glaucous Honeysuckle (Lonicera dioica) should now be in bloom along Bog Meadow Nature Trail just outside Saratoga.  This woody vine with orange-purple flowers and terminal leaves that grow together to form a cup is one of our native honeysuckles.  It's often hard to see among the overbearing alien honeysuckle shrubs that line that trail. But for years I've found it in the same spot, between a beaver lodge and a wooden bridge.  Not today.  Not a sign of it.  Maybe the beaver cut it down.  That was the only one I ever found in Saratoga County.  And now it's gone.  Too bad.

Oh well.  I consoled myself with a search for Buckbean (Menyanthes trifoliata), heading for a woodland pool where I've found this water plant for the past five years.  And I did find it.  But only two, where in past years I've found a dozen or more.  It's quite a pretty flower, all fuzzy, the insides of its petals bearded with white hairs.  Once again, this Bog Meadow Trail is the only place in the county I've ever found it.  I hope it comes back next year.

Buckbean grows in standing water

I next went in search of Nodding Trillium (Trillium cernuum), a pretty white nodding flower with a pinkish center.  And yes, I did find it.  Two of them.  Three years ago there were more than ten in an area near a bench, but a mower came along and cut them all down before their leaves could help them store up food for the following year.  They've been struggling back, but I wonder if they will ever be as abundant as before.  

You have to lie down and look up to see Nodding Trillium's pretty face.

So I was feeling kind of glum.  Over the years, these plants have become like friends, friends I enjoy getting back in touch with each year.  And just like in the rest of my life (where death and divorce and distance carry friends away), I feel sad when these friends disappear. (All three of these plants are classified as endangered or threatened in a number of states.)  I headed home, deciding to stop at the farmers' market to cheer myself with some fresh asparagus.  And would you believe?! -- a new vendor at the market this year was a nursery called "Wildthings Rescue Nursery," specializing in "Native woodland restoration and native gardens."  

Well, you can imagine what fun I had, comparing notes with a fellow flower nerd named Dawn Foglia. (Yes, that's her name!  Really!)  And I bought some things, too: Tiny native iris (two blue, one white) and a trillium I've never found in the wild, Toadshade (Trillium sessile).  I'm trying to create a native woodland garden in my back yard, attempting some tiny compensation for loss of habitat that leads to the loss of native flowers.  I'm having trouble convincing my resident squirrels to go along with this plan.  Which is why I'm smiling as I type the website of Wildthings Rescue Nursery:  ThoseDarnSqurls.mswin.net

Toad Trillium, or Toadshade, although native to New York State, is not usually found in Saratoga County. But now it's found in my backyard. 

Their place is in Valley Falls, NY, and they offer the "largest selection of North American native plants, including eight  trillium species." I hope to visit their farm some day, but in the meantime I'm happy to scroll through all the great plants listed on the website.  It's reassuring to know that as my wildflower friends disappear from places I used to find them, I can plant some of them right here in my own garden. 

Not that a garden is any substitute for loss of natural habitat, with all its concomitant critters and fellow flora.  We have to do all we can to save what's left.  It's not just my loss that Glaucous Honeysuckle can't be found around here anymore.

Show Some Respect for Chickweeds

Its sepals larger than its petals, tiny Common Chickweed often goes unnoticed.

Common Chickweed.  The very name evokes hard-packed yards and unkempt alleyways.  And true enough, that's where this very common alien weed grows.  Most folks pass by without seeing it, a most unprepossessing flower, indeed.  Tiny (one-quarter inch), greenish-white, more leaves than blossoms, growing between the cracks in the sidewalk, sharing its space with gum wrappers and cigarette butts.  It just don't get no respect.

But it should.  It has a long list of medicinal uses, from treating sores to reducing fevers to aiding in weight reduction (fat chance!).  And it's also quite a tasty green, the tender little leaves tasting like gourmet lettuce.  It can also be steamed and enjoyed like spinach with garlic and olive oil.  Chickens and other birds just eat it up, which is probably how it got its common name.  Its Latin name ( Stellaria media) most likely refers to its starry little five-petaled, five-sepaled flower that looks like it has ten petals, because each one is deeply cleft.  This cleft-petal trait is shared by all the other chickweeds that grow around here: Mouse-ear (with furry little leaves), Lesser Stitchwort (with stems as weak and fine as thread), Field (with flowers twice as big as Common), and Star (the prettiest of the bunch, growing in masses like a firmament in the grass).

Field Chickweed, before the mowers cut it down

Those last two mentioned, Star Chickweed (S. pubera) and Field Chickweed (Cerastium arvense), are not just the largest and prettiest, they are also the only native wildflowers of the bunch, and not nearly as commonly found as the others, either.  (Star Chickweed is actually on "endangered" lists in New Jersey and Illinois.)  Field Chickweed grows on the lawn in Congress Park -- or did, until the mowers came by.  There's a beautiful patch of Star Chickweed in the Orra Phelps Nature Preserve in Wilton.  That's the only place in Saratoga County -- or anywhere else -- I've ever found it.  It's only in bloom for a day or so, so I have to be vigilant each year or I miss it.  I found just one blossom this year.

A solitary bloom of Star Chickweed

Back to the Garden Again

Okay.  I didn't really mean it.  I didn't give up gardening entirely, just because the critters ate my expensive shrubs (See post for May 2, "Garden Disasters, Woodland Consolations").  I had a $5-off coupon from my favorite nursery, and I couldn't resist.  Besides, it was Mother's Day, and I wanted some flowers.  My kids know not to send me any, because nothing the florist sends will bloom in the shade, and I have a shady garden. 

 Also, I'm really picky.  I plant only native species.  Why?  Because the native plants have co-evolved with the bugs and birds and other creatures that depend on them for food.  As fancier imports and genetically engineered varieties replace the native species in backyard gardens and city parks, our native animals have fewer and fewer places where they can live.  (I just wish I didn't have quite so many squirrels!)

Virginia Bluebells, an early and abundant bloomer

There's a nursery near Schenectady that features native plants, so I drove down there and came back loaded with shade growers:  Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica), Foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia), Green and Gold (Chrysogonum virginianum), and a Red Chokeberry shrub (Pyrus arbutifolia) to replace one of the two the rabbit ate last winter.

Jacob's Ladder

The rabbit and squirrels seem to prefer shrubs to herbaceous plants, so some of what I planted last year survived.  So far.  The Jacob's Ladder (Polemonium van-bruntiae) is now in glorious sky-blue bloom, as is the Wild Bleeding Heart (Dicentra eximia) in rosy pink. 

Wild Bleeding Heart

Less showy but really exquisite is Star-flowered Solomon's Seal (Smilacina stellata), small snow-white stars with leaves of the prettiest blue-green -- and spreading like mad!  Yippee!!!

Star-flowered Solomon's Seal

 

And here's a happy discovery:  I started to pull up the old chokeberry, only to find it starting to sprout new growth.  And the second one doing the same.  So now I will have three chokeberry shrubs, enough to make a grand blaze of color next fall, plus berries that last well into the winter (it takes several freezes to make them palatable to the birds).  This winter I'm going to encage the lot in chicken wire.  Will that keep the rabbit away?

Sick Siskins

For the past couple of weeks, I've noticed one really fat Pine Siskin among the few still hanging around our backyard feeders.  Unfortuneately, I now realize that there may have been several "fat" ones, not just one, and what looks like fat is really fluffed-up feathers on a shivering, starving bird.  Just before it dies.

Curious that the puffy siskin might be suffering some metabolic disorder, I Googled "pine siskins diseases" and found a Cornell University site that alerted me to what this disease may be:  Salmonellosis.  It's caused by Salmonella bacteria fouling feeders and birdbaths, exacerbated by the huge numbers of Pine Siskins that descended on our area this past winter.  These bacteria are transmitted primarily by fecal matter, and as anyone who maintains a bird feeder can attest, there's plenty of avian fecal matter out there.  

So my work is cut out for me.  All feeders are coming down, at least for a week or so, to encourage the remaining siskins to disperse (concentrated populations enhance the spread of the disease).   Then I've got to shovel, sweep, rake, and hose down the area under the feeders, disposing of all the seed hulls and accumulated droppings.  All feeders and birdbaths must be taken apart, washed, and disinfected with a solution of chlorine bleach.  Then, according to all the bird sites I checked, I have to re-clean the feeders at least once a week.  In fact, I was supposed to be doing that all winter, anyway.  I'm sorry, little birdies.  I didn't mean to make you sick.

Here's the address of that Cornell site: 

 www.birds.cornell.edu/pfw/News/Salmonella09.htm 

A Quiet Paddle, Out of the Wind

There's a place on the river so reliably calm and quiet I call it Shelter Cove.

Sunny and warm today, with quite a bit of a breeze.  I knew that the wind would be whipping up waves on the open Hudson, so I didn't paddle out there.  I launched my canoe at a quiet spot where the river runs behind an island, where a rising mountain and steep rocky banks keep much of the wind at bay.  And it was good.

It was very good!

* * *

The first good thing was a forest floor just carpeted with Starflower (Trientalis borealis).  These dainty white star-shaped flowers have light green leaves that are also arrayed like stars, and  today they were intermingled with bright pink Fringed Polygala.  That sight alone was worth the trip.  But there was more. . . .  

* * * 

The next good thing was actually kind of icky.  There was a birch stump gnawed by a beaver some time ago (the wood was not freshly gnawed),  and it looked like someone had poured some kind of orange and white goo all down it.  Undoubtedly, this is some kind of fungus, probably some kind of slime mold, but not one that has a picture in my mushroom book. Anybody know what to call it?  Other than icky, I mean. (Click on the photo to get a good look at its texture.)

* * * 

Here's something a little prettier, although once again I don't have a name for it.  Other than "a fern."  It's a tall one, with velvety stems, and it looks like a spore stalk uncurling there along with an orange-bordered frond.  Could it be Cinnamon Fern?  Or possibly Interrupted?  I know it's not Christmas nor Sensitive nor Maidenhair, which are also unfurling now. As always, reader input is most welcome.

* * * 

Lots of birdsong greeted me from the woods as I paddled along close to shore.  A Black-throated Green Warbler kept up his zee-zee-zee-zoo-zee all afternoon.  Two Canada Geese scolded incessantly with mighty honks, while an absolutely silent little brown bird scooted out of sight every time I drew close enough to see what it was.  A Great Blue Heron lifted off each time I focused my camera on him, but I did manage to chase this Spotted Sandpiper fast enough to get his picture.  His head's sort of in focus anyway.  His butt was constantly bobbing, bobbing, bobbing.

Two Woods, Two Soils, and a Good Word for Bees

It's amazing how different two forests can be, depending on soil chemistry.  The Skidmore woods, with its limestone-based soil, is just teeming with spring ephemerals, and has been since the first Hepatica opened its petals about three weeks ago.  But the Woods Hollow Nature Preserve in Ballston Spa, with its pine-dominated woods and sandy, acid soil, has hardly any flowers blooming at all.  At least, not yet.  I was over there today, and counted at least 50 shoots of Pink Lady's Slipper.  In a couple of weeks, I'll find one blooming just about everywhere I look.  (For Yellow Lady's Slippers, I look in the Skidmore woods. And often don't find any.)

I did find a shrub in bloom at Woods Hollow, though I had to search pretty hard to find the blossoms.  The Mountain Holly (Nemopanthus mucronata) makes me think of the plain little caterpillar that becomes a beautiful butterfly.  Its flowers are really small and plain, but its berries are so brilliantly red they really knock your eye out.  Too bad they don't stay on the shrub through winter, like their cousin the Winterberry's do. 

The almost-invisible flowers of the Mountain Holly shrub

The knock-your-eye-out red of the berries in July

On another topic:  A number of weeks back (March 31) I wrote a post about ground-dwelling bees.  I was really pleased to read in today's New York Times a short piece by Stephen Orr in praise of these bees.  To read the whole piece go to their web site nytimes.com and look under the Style section for Home & Garden, where you'll find the "Garden Q & A" for May 7, titled "A Helping Hand for Pollinators."

Here's a quote: "Even with the rise of the green movement, some gardeners have no tolerance for wildlife in their yards.  They trap, kill or extinguish whatever creatures they meet, perhaps not realizing that even in the smallest garden there is an important eco-system at work."

And another quote:  "We should thank these insects for every third bite that we eat. . . . Basically, 30 percent of our food is brought to us by pollination.  Native bees, especially the almost unknown ground-nesting types, are the unsung heroines of the bee world."

Amen!

A Walkabout in Warren County

I look pretty funny, chasing a tiny turtle through the grass.  (Photo by Sue Pierce)

I crossed the Hudson to Warren County today, where my friend Sue Pierce showed me around her haunts between Glens Falls and Glen Lake.  At the end of her street, we wandered a beautiful open meadow, where Meadowlarks and Bob-o-links had managed to make a home, despite housing developments that stretched as far as the eye could see.  Sue knows the songs of these birds and ID'd them for me.  She actually saw the Meadowlark, but of course I could not make it out, even with binoculars.  That's why I have to learn the birds by song.  Thanks, Sue.

Bog Rosemary will only grow in acid, boggy sites, like the one we went to today.

We then went to a marsh with a boggy shore, where Bog Rosemary and Leatherleaf grow, a lovely little wetland hiding out in the shadow of Six Flags Great Escape amusement park.  It seemed the amusement park was a hundred miles away.  Real bogs are few and far between in Saratoga County.  I'm happy to know about this one so close to my home.  I'll be back with my canoe.

Our next stop was a bike path that ran between Glen Lake and Lake George, with a fern-banked, tree-shaded woodland stream singing along the same route.  The high point of our adventure there was discovering a  silver-dollar-sized Painted Turtle, crossing the bike path, making its way to the stream.  Sue took that picture of me up there, trying to take the turtle's picture as it hustled quickly through the grass.   

She then obliged me by holding the little fellow still, so I could take its portrait.  Pretty cute, eh?  We then made sure it made it to the safety of the stream.  

Garden Disasters, Woodland Consolations

What my Flowering Dogwood should have looked like, if only . . .

Okay.  That's it.  No more gardening for me.  A squirrel just ate the last bud on my Flowering Dogwood tree, just as it started to open.  I paid good money for that tree last spring and I was so excited to see it just filled with buds this spring.  But one by one:  snip! snip! snip!  And now they are all gone.  I planted that dogwood plus two Red Chokeberries, two Highbush Cranberries, and one Sweet Pepperbush last year, hoping to create a wildlife refuge in my back yard.  My yard was even certified as such by the National Wildlife Federation.  I was thinking in terms of butterflies and birds when I planted those shrubs as wildlife food.  But the mammalian wildlife got there first.  A rabbit sheared the chokeberries and pepperbush right down to the ground this winter, then a squirrel did in the dogwood buds (as well as all of my lilies and a rhubarb plant).  The cranberries got a good pruning, but at least there are still a few flower clusters yet to bloom.  So far.

I am trying not to feel murderous about all this.  Why get all upset about one snipped dogwood tree?  Despite the  50 bucks I paid, dogwoods are a dime a dozen.  Big deal.  I can go to the woods and see one any time.  So that's what I did.  Not to look for a dogwood, but to seek out a plant that is certainly not a dime a dozen, but actually quite rare: Goldenseal (Hydrastis canadensis).  And find it I did, just come into bloom today, in a spot I visit each year.  

Goldenseal blooms as its leaves are still unfolding.

This plant, too, has its attackers: herbalists who dig it up to sell for big money, and Garlic Mustard, an aggressive alien plant whose roots poison the soil for all other plants around it.  So I keep the whereabouts of this Goldenseal patch a deep, dark secret, and each spring when I visit it I pull all the Garlic Mustard that tries to encroach.  I noticed that the Goldenseal has significantly expanded its territory since I started pulling the mustard.

Masses of Wild Columbine brighten a country roadside.

The woods were full of consolations for me today.  A roadside bank was ablaze with Wild Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), dozens and dozens of plants, their scarlet lanterns swinging in the breeze.  I parked my car to take a photo and nearly stepped on a patch of Wood Betony (Pedicularis canadensis).  This plant has another name -- Lousewort -- but I think Wood Betony sounds better for such a pretty plant.  This is only the second place in Saratoga County I've ever seen it.

Wood Betony's ruffled leaves are as pretty as its flowers.

Encouraged by these two finds, I ambled down the road a bit, and lo and behold, a third surprise awaited me:  a beautiful profusion of Rue Anemone (Anemonella thalictroides).  Its flower resembles the Wood Anemone's and its leaves the Meadow Rue's, but this plant is far less common than either of those.

The pristine white of Rue Anemone stands out against its soft green leaves.

So all in all, my feelings about one mangled dogwood were soothed by encountering one lovely wildflower after another today.  Who needs a flower garden when the woods and waters and roadways abound with beauty?  And oh yes . . . I did find a Flowering Dogwood, too.  (That's its photo at the top of the post.)

Yaddo's "Weeds" Outshine its Roses

Now here's a sight that would send a suburban lawn purist off to get broad-leaf weed killer.  (Too bad he doesn't seem to care that that crap also kills his kids and pets and other wildlife.)  This bank just teeming with violets and pussytoes far outshines -- in my opinion -- the famous Yaddo rose gardens just down the hill.

These Common Blue Violets are uncommonly beautiful in mass profusion.

The lawn that stretches below the mansion also supports a delightful variety of lovely lawn "weeds."  There's Dog Violet, Ground Ivy, and Dandelions there, plus Thyme-leaved Speedwell, Birds'-eye Speedwell, and a wonderful patch of tiny fragrant white violets, the Sweet White Violet.  

Dainty little Thyme-leaved Speedwell sprinkles the grass with beauty.

Bird's-eye Speedwell brings the color of sky to the lawn in May.

The Sweet White Violet has a fragrance to match its name.

See how Sweet White Violet's upper petals curve backwards?  That's how to tell this violet from its almost indentical twin, the Northern White.  Plus the fact that it blooms a few weeks later.  And it's blooming profusely this week in Yaddo's lawn.  Go see it before the mowers descend.

Just for the record, other wildflowers in bloom at Yaddo today: Northern Prickly Ash, Virginia Bluebells, Celandine Poppy, Labrador Violet, and Yellow Corydalis.

Bog Meadow Yields New Treasure!

Since I'm scheduled to lead a wildflower walk on Bog Meadow Nature Trail next month, I thought I'd better go scope it out.  The trail runs for about two miles along an old railroad bed, passing through forested wetlands and a couple of open marshes.  Unfortunately, much of the trail is dominated by alien honeysuckle shrubs, but there's still lots of good stuff here, including two native vining honeysuckles, Glaucous and Trumpet.  They're always hard to find, especially when they're not in bloom.  Like today.  I didn't find them.  Yet. 

But I did find something I never expected to:  Carolina Spring Beauty (Claytonia caroliniana).  There's a new spur to the main trail that's being developed,  and I turned off to explore it.  I hadn't gone 20 feet along a soggy path when these pretty little pink flowers caught my eye, nestled among the more familiar ferns and horsetail rush and Skunk Cabbage.  Be still my heart!!! 

 Only a fellow flower nerd will appreciate what a thrill it is to find a new variety to add to one's life list.  I'd seen Spring Beauty before, downstate in Westchester County, but not yet in Saratoga County, and I never expected to find the Carolina kind at all (the Carolina kind has larger, oval leaves).  That's the thrill of the hunt.  You just never know.  And isn't it pretty?  Lives up to its name, for sure.  Too bad, there probably won't be any sign of them by June 6, when I lead that walk, since the plant disappears as soon as it goes to seed.

I was happy to find some of my old friends, too, like Goldthread (Coptis groenlandica), whose thread-like roots are goldenrod-yellow and whose small bright white blossoms stand out against dark green leaves.  Actually, the white "petals" of this flower are, in fact, sepals.  The real petals are those little yellow club-like things. The pistils are quite distinctive, like tiny green crookneck squash.

Bog Meadow is one of only two places I've ever found Water Avens (Geum rivale), and I always have to search really hard for it.  Its dark purple blossoms (er, I mean sepals) don't exactly stand out, and even when fully open, they still look like buds.  But very interesting buds. 

I didn't have to search to find these baby maple leaves: their color shouted LOOK AT ME from quite a ways away.  But I never noticed that little bug until I downloaded my photos and viewed them on my computer screen.  That bug has wings that look just like maple seeds!  Cool!

One more photo, of Christmas Fern, just beginning to unfurl.  I love how, as the frond uncoils, the pinnae also uncurl.  A very common fern, but of uncommon beauty.

Trails Day at Moreau Lake State Park

If you take a hike in Moreau Lake State Park, you can thank these folks for making trails safer and easier to follow.

Sunny and cool, a little breezy:  a perfect day for working hard in the woods.  The gang in the photo above (plus another group off in another part of the park) spent Saturday morning lopping twigs, sawing branches, raking pathways, and clearing fallen logs from the trails in Moreau Lake State Park.  This particular group (I helped, too) cleared a new trail that looped down toward a small bay of the lake.  The new trail passed by the Black Tupelo tree I fell through the ice trying to visit this spring, and I was able to point it out to a park naturalist, who said he would put some screening around the trunk to protect it from hungry beavers. (Almost all of the others of this species that grow in the park have been destroyed by beavers.)

We worked up a little sweat, spilled a little blood, got a few blisters, picked up a tick or two, but all in all we had a great time working together.  And eating together after, when Friends of Moreau Lake, a group of volunteers committed to park improvements,  provided a wienie roast for all who pitched in to make the trails safer and easier to travel this summer.  Folks from Adirondack Mountain Club and an area mountain bike club participated, too, along with park staff and friends of the park.

I, of course, had my camera along, hoping to spy some wildflowers.  Not many blooming in this particular woods, but we found some awesome critters:  the biggest grub I have ever seen, a big fat millipede with rosy legs, and a brilliantly colored Six-spotted Tiger Beetle that would not sit still for the picture-taking.

What monster-sized bug is this grub the larva of?  Anybody know?

This millipede (?) comes in designer colors.  Click on the photo to see all those rosy legs.

The camera cannot do justice to the brilliance of this Six-spotted Tiger Beetle (who kept running out of focus).

The one flower we found just happens to be one of the prettiest of all:  Fringed Polygala (Polygala paucifolia), which looks like a little airplane, propeller a-whirl.  For the record, this is the earliest I have ever seen this flower, by at least a week.

Today's Finds in Skidmore Woods

After my tour of Congress Park this morning, I scooted out to Skidmore Woods to photograph some of the native plants out there.  If I posted all I found today, my computer would take all night trying to download their images.  But here are just a few. 

I know I posted a photo of Large-flowered Trillium before, but I wanted to show the masses of them growing in the woods around this one.

This single blossom of Miterwort (Mitella diphylla) is only about one-quarter inch across. Looks kind of like a snowflake, if snowflakes had five points.  I can never get a good photo of the whole plant.  If the flowers are in focus, the leaves aren't, and vice versa.  Look it up in Newcomb's wildflower guide to see a drawing of its pretty leaves.

Dwarf Ginseng (Panax trifolium) is much smaller than the ginseng prized by Chinese medicine (Panax quinquefolius).  The whole plant is less than three inches across.  And unlike its larger cousin, this plant disappears after it stops blooming.  Like in just a few days from now.

The flower heads of Early Meadow Rue (Thalictrum dioicum) with clusters of anthers dangling down and shimmying in the breeze.  (Hmmm. . . .  Where are the pistils?  I forgot to look!)  The leaves of this plant are equally pretty, all soft and ruffly.  Sorry I didn't get them in the picture.

Not pictured but in bloom in Skidmore Woods today:  Barren Strawberry, Wild Strawberry, Wood Strawberry, Pussytoes, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Wild Geranium, Red-berried Elder, Purple Trillium, Large-flowered Bellwort, Sessile Bellwort, Wild Ginger, Canada Violet, Prickly Gooseberry, Downy Yellow Violet, Small-flowered Crowfoot, Longspur Violet, and the dreaded Garlic Mustard (many stalks of which I pulled out).  I saw shoots of both Ginseng and Goldenseal (I will not say where!) and two plump stalks of Asparagus (which I didn't pick, even though tempted).