Summertime, and the meadows are purple . . .

Purple Loosestrife fills a meadow at Woods Hollow Nature Preserve in Ballston Spa.

Joe-Pye Weed stands tall along the Burl Trail that follows the Kayaderosseras Creek near Malta.

Purple Loosestrife shares an old barnyard above Saratoga Lake with many other flowers.

Most Horsemint plants are long past blooming, but at Wilton Wildlife Preserve this pretty purple-bracted one still held its purple-dotted yellow flowers.

Happy Birthday, Kitties!

 Well, I'm not quite sure when our feral kittens Cleo (left) and her brother Bebert were born,  but when we found them and brought them in from the wild, it was during the third week of August and they were about 4 weeks old, according to the veterinarian we took them to.  Which means that this must be their birthday week.  So Happy Birthday, dear Kitties!  You are still a couple of sweethearts!

I'm not sure when Cleo and Bebert's Uncle Finn was born, since he was almost fully grown when we adopted him from a shelter about nine years ago.  But no matter how old he grows, he's still like a great big kitten.   He has grown wise enough, however, to know how to keep himself cool on the hottest days.

Postcards from Paradise

Did I have a wonderful weekend at Pyramid Lake?  Well, how could I not?  I spent it among intelligent, informed, and peace-loving people, and we had perfect weather in one of the most beautiful parts of the Adirondacks.  I took a few photos.


Saturday dawned cool and quiet,  with clouds of mist rising from the lake's calm surface.

Skeins of web covered the lichen fruits on this moss-covered log, each thread outlined with dew.

In sheltered bays, masses of Pipewort shone in the morning sun.

That rising sun lit up the Mountain Holly berries like glowing red lamps.

Those  berries are so deeply, intensely red,  they seem to glow even in the deep shade.

This Mallard hen was warming herself in the morning sun and never moved when my boat drew near to her.  I wonder if she could sense that she had nothing to fear from the peace-loving people who come to retreat at Pyramid Lake.

This little metallic-green bee was also quite friendly, repeatedly landing on my hand and very reluctant to leave.

Here's a dragonfly almost as blue as that little bee was green.  This is a male Slaty Skimmer, who, along with others of his kind, patrolled the beach and kept it free of annoying mosquitoes and flies.

Well, this really had me stumped!  What ARE these tiny spiky critters all piled on this little Water Lily pad, and none of them moving?  When I finally plucked up my courage to pick one up to examine it closely, it hung like a limp husk from my fingers.  I later learned (thanks once again to BugGuide.net) that these are the shed skins of Water Strider nymphs.  Now I'm wondering if they all crawled together atop this lily pad to molt, all at the same time.  That would have been something to see!

It was hard to leave on Sunday afternoon, with the sunlight sparkling on the lake's pristine waters, with nary a motor boat nor a jet ski to roar across its expanse.  There was only the sound of the wind in the pines and of wavelets lapping against the shore to intrude upon the silence.  Luckily, I live but an hour away, so I can come back whenever the spirit moves me. Or when days as lovely as this one inspire me to return.

Pyramid Lake: Retreat to a Peaceable Paradise

I'm off today for my annual Peace Retreat at Pyramid Life Center on Pyramid Lake in the Adirondacks.  We won't have a full moon this year, but we probably will have some rosy-fingered dawns, with soft mist swirling over the waters and the haunting calls of loons echoing among the mountains. 

But even if we had nothing but gray skies and rainstorms, this place is where I would crave to be, especially when joining together with other folks who work for peace in the world.  Among our presenters this year is the granddaughter of Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker Movement and a model of how we could live more simply and authentically.  We all know very well that most of the world considers us "peaceniks" deluded at best or crazy at worst, but we know Who calls us to walk this path and we long to walk with Him, even if that path should lead to His cross.  But happily, that path this weekend will lead us all to Pyramid Lake and a foretaste of Paradise.

Surprises at Lake Luzerne

 Hudson River above Rockwell Falls, July 19, 2012

Today I went up to the Hudson River at Lake Luzerne.  My task was to take the GPS coordinates of where I found the Slender Milfoil in bloom on mudflats above Rockwell Falls on July 7.  A couple of botanists have asked me to send them pressed specimens of the flowers of this aquatic plant, since it only blooms -- and rarely so -- when exposed to air with falling water levels.  And those botanists do like to have GPS coordinates, in order to map the locations of plants in their collections.  But boy, did I get a surprise!  Those extensive mudflats that I found on July 7 (see photo below) were rapidly disappearing (see photo above), due to a couple of heavy rains over the past few days that have caused the river to rise.  I'm very glad I had already collected the specimens, and luckily, the water was still shallow enough to allow me to wade to where I had done the collecting.

 Hudson River above Rockwell Falls, July 7, 2012, showing extensive mats of Slender Milfoil in bloom.

There were still some patches of Slender Milfoil above the water, but much of it was now submerged.

Those plants that yet remained above water appeared to be still in bloom.

I had to smile when I saw extensive patches of Creeping Spearwort still merrily blooming away, although now completely submerged.

Regular readers of this blog may remember me eagerly leaping from my canoe a month or so ago,  surprised and excited to find a single flower of Creeping Spearwort.  How was I to know that this would be a banner year for this wee little buttercup, and that I would ultimately see them this year by the hundreds?

Golden Pert is another one of these riverside plants that will vegetate under water for years, and then, when they do get their hour in the sun, will burst into radiant bloom.

I almost stepped on this rather large Green Frog before it surprised me with a giant leap.  But then it held stone still for me to take its picture.  Thank you, dear froggie.  You look quite comely next to that little trumpet of Golden Pert.

My GPS task completed,  I headed over to a stream that runs from the lake  to the river.  (Yes, there is a lake at Lake Luzerne.)  There's an island in the middle of this stream where, years ago,  I found abundant Smaller Purple Fringed Orchids growing as thick as dandelions.  Then somebody mowed the island, including the orchids while they were blooming,  and I rarely find any orchids there anymore.  Maybe one or two, on lucky years.  I had already searched through the grass a couple of weeks ago and found no sign of them.  But I like to walk along this pretty stream, and of course I glanced in the island's direction.  Just in case.  And WHOA!  What are those purple flowers out there?  They're not the right color for Purple Loosestrife or Heal-all.  Could they really, REALLY be the orchids?  Look how MANY there are!

So I waded across the shallow stream to see.  Yep.  Orchids, indeed.  Fourteen of them, just in this bunch alone.

I searched around in the knee-high grass, and there on the opposite bank, I found another. 

And another and another and another and another and another.  Twenty orchids in all, including this beauty at a perfect stage of bloom.

I even found one that was all pure white, a very unusual occurrence.  Like a cloud of tiny angels ascending into heaven.  Or a flock of tiny peace doves descending to bring a blessing.  Oh happy day!

Mother Nature's Midsummer Garden

Another hot day.  Despite several recent downpours, my home garden flowers are pretty sorry-looking, wilted and brown from the heat and lack of rain this summer.  I went out and sheared a lot of them down today, just to rid the garden of unsightly stalks, then grabbed my canoe and headed off to the Hudson, where the constant rise and fall of water levels keeps Mother Nature's garden in beautiful bloom.  And oh, it was a lovely day for a paddle, with the river smooth as silk beneath my boat.

I headed upstream, circling a pretty island where tall pines lean over the banks, and flocks of Tree Swallows soar out over the water, returning to perch, all atwitter,  in the tops of the trees.

Steeplebush and Blue Vervain are rooted in rock and reach for the sky.

Cardinal flowers glow as if lit from within, their blazing red seeming even more brilliant when backed by the dark shade of the woods.

Here's a healthy clump of Mad Dog Skullcap growing out of a rotting stump, their little blue flowers set off quite prettily by a spike of rosy Steeplebush.  Could a professional landscape artist design a lovelier combination?

I was quite surprised to find Wild Senna already coming into bloom, and delighted as well, to see more plants this year than ever before.  There were mostly buds, but I did find a single open flower.  Since official floral atlases do not record this species for Warren County, I clipped a stem to prepare as a vouchered specimen for the state herbarium.  (I was over on the Warren County side of the Hudson River, which here forms the northern boundary of Saratoga County.)

Bedstraw Bellflower and Sensitive Fern are each beautiful in their own right.  But see how their beauty is amplified when the two occur together.

Approaching an island, I spied many bushes of Black Huckleberry and just had to beach my canoe and go gather me some.  But unlike the sweet juicy huckleberries we found last week in a bog, where the bushes' roots have constant access to water,  these berries were sour and dry.  Uh oh, there are going to be some hungry unhappy Black Bears this summer.

Since I was already beached on this island, I walked around it to see what might be in flower.   It being about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, I managed to catch the Marsh St. Johnswort in abundant bloom.  Come back in the morning, and none of their buds will be open.

Most of the plants had leaves that were green edged with red.  But this one was red through and through.  Gorgeous!

The Boneset buds were starting to open, their fluffy white blooms set off quite nicely here by a large clump of ferns.

Joe-Pye Weed was also in bloom, with dusty rose flower heads set atop purple stems.

A large patch of Golden Pert made a splendid backdrop for this radiant spray of Blue Vervain.

Down in that patch of Golden Pert I found a few stalks of Horned Bladderwort.  Unlike most other bladderworts, this species  doesn't float freely about in the water, but stands as if rooted in the damp sand.

Well, I guess every garden has to have its Groundhog.  But I'll bet Mother Nature doesn't mind this furry critter being here.  Certainly, I was very glad to see it.  What a cutie!

My Mistake

Boy, is my face red!  And not just because I was under the midday sun for hours today, on one of the hottest days of the year.  No, my face is red from embarrassment, having leaped to the conclusion that the arrowhead plant I found yesterday was the very rare Slender Arrowhead ( Sagittaria teres).  I do believe I was wrong about that.

Looking again at the specimen I brought home, I noticed a long thin leaf that was flattened at the top.  Uh oh, I thought, this looks like it could be the far more common Grass-leaved Arrowhead (S. graminea) after all.

So I returned to where I was paddling yesterday, a backwater just above the Feeder Dam at South Glens Falls, and there I found a couple of other arrowhead plants with similar long thin leaves that were flattened at the top.

All of the other arrowheads surrounding these plants exhibited the more broadly flattened leaves that are typical of Grass-leaved Arrowhead.

I dug around in the mud and extracted the basal rosette of one of the plants I was sure was Grass-leaved Arrowhead.  It looked exactly like the rosette of the plant I had found yesterday. ( I see a single stalk of Golden Pert has sprouted among those leaves, as well.)

I broke a leaf in two and noted that the cross-section of the leaf was not completely round, but only half-round.  When I returned home, I checked the leaves of my specimen, and discovered that they were half-round as well.

When I checked my Newcomb's Wildflower Guide again, it seems obvious how I was misled.  Newcomb's does not illustrate the basal leaves of the Grass-leaved Arrowhead, which are usually submerged.  His drawing shows only the bladed leaves, which protrude above the water.   Just at a glance, the plant I found yesterday certainly more closely resembled Newcomb's illustration of the Slender Arrowhead.  But it probably isn't.  Oh well.  I did have a moment's excitement.

I certainly wasn't going to let my embarrassment prevent my from enjoying the rest of the afternoon on the river, although the brisk wind that started to blow convinced me to move to a more sheltered area.

So I drove upstream to an area above the Sherman Island Dam where I almost always find peaceful waters.  My personal name for this place is Shelter Cove.

The Cardinal Flowers are coming into their glory now, the ravishing red of this cluster set off so beautifully by a large clump of Royal Fern.  I see some pretty blue dots of Monkey Flower as well.

Purple Loosestrife is also coming into its glory, and oh, how I wish I could leave these plants where I find them, adding so much beauty to the riverbanks.   Maybe someday they will reach an equilibrium where they don't aggressively drive out our native flowers.  As yet, however, I pull them out wherever I find them.  But first I took their photo.  So lovely!

I stopped off on the island where a healthy group of Great St. Johnsworts have found a happy home.  Even though their flowers have dropped all their bright-yellow petals, it's easy to locate them by their big fat achenes, topped by the five-parted stigmas that are typical of this plant.

And oh, it was my lucky day, indeed!  The exquisite Marsh St. Johnswort had opened its pretty pink petals at last!  I was afraid to turn around, lest they close them up again, having reached their daily allotment of blooming time.  It really is a stroke of luck to find these in bloom.  Such nice compensation for my other disappointment.

I was also cheered by the presence of this pretty little Green Frog.  Then, while leaning in close to admire  the frog, I noticed the arcing green threadlike stems of Creeping Spearwort making their way across the rock.  With water levels in the Hudson so low this month, this plant, which has bided its time underwater for years, seems to be burgeoning everywhere, taking advantage of sunlight and air to bloom at last.