As a professional gardener I was never surprised that work slowed down a bit in the winter here in New Hampshire-ground that is frozen solid doesn’t hoe well. Each year at about this time I’d start to feel a little anxious-full of energy and excitement- wanting those southerly winds to bring us some spring weather. After it finally got here and I’d had a day or two of working in the warm sun again I’d be walking with a spring in my step, whistling a happy tune. (If you need a happy tune to whistle, just click here.)
March 1st is the meteorological start of spring here in the North Eastern U.S., and at dawn that day I positioned my tripod on top of the crusty snow for a shot of the waning gibbous moon stuck in the trees. The clouds parted just long enough in the morning to get a glimpse of it, and then it clouded over again. The astronomical method of dividing the year into seasons names March 20 as the first day of spring.
Over the weekend I followed an abandoned road that was hacked through the bedrock in the early 1700s. Ledges line parts of that road-this one is about 12 feet high with ice that looks impressive but is rotting and dangerous to climb. It’s hard to describe rotten ice but it is weakened by melt water running over and through it due to warmer temperatures. Once you’ve seen it, you know it. Since it means spring is nearby, I like to see it.
Mosses can go through some very cold temperatures and still look like they have just come up in the spring. I thought it would be a cinch to identify this one but once again, nature threw me a curve ball. It resembles both Fissidens and Neckera mosses, so not only am I not sure of the species, I can’t even get to the genus. Whatever it is, I thought it was unusual and beautiful enough to include here.
One of my favorite native shrubs is hobblebush (Viburnum lantanoides,) which will be covered with large white, showy flowers in May. Its buds have no scales so they are open to all that nature can throw at them all winter long, just like those of witch hazel. This particular bush was really stunning last spring and I found myself wishing it was in my yard. I can’t wait to see it in bloom again. The flower bud between the two tiny leaves tells me that it will. If you would like to see what it looks like when it is blooming just click here.
Split gill mushrooms (Schizophyllum commune) wear fuzzy white coats in winter. Actually they wear these coats at any time, but when they’ve had adequate moisture they appear less fuzzy. The common name refers to the way the folds on their underside resemble gills that have split lengthwise. I haven’t been able to find out if they stay this way all winter or if they start growing in spring, but seeing them makes it feel like spring.
Nothing says spring in New Hampshire like a sap bucket hanging from a maple tree. Once spring turns on the flow it doesn’t stop until fall. It’s a good sign that the earth is thawing.
At first I thought this was a jelly fungus but the small bit to the left shaped like a jelly bean didn’t fit with a jelly fungus. Then, because there are lichens that mimic jelly fungi, I thought it might be one of those, but again, the jelly bean didn’t fit. I finally decided that the only thing that is tomato red and looks like a jelly bean that I know of is wolf’s milk slime mold (Lycogala epidendrum,) also called toothpaste slime mold. The smeared parts are “jelly beans” (fruiting bodies) that have been crushed. If slime molds are growing it must be warming up.
I found this odd specimen on a willow branch. Since it is smiling, maybe it’s just as happy that spring is coming as I am. Actually this is a stem gall which was formed when Rhabdophaga midges burrowed into the willow’s stem last year, but I can see an eye, a nose, and a smiley mouth. And even a pointy hat.
The skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) is looking very red this year. Last year it was a much darker purple. There is a large swamp in Swanzey, New Hampshire where hundreds of these plants grow. Many grow on a hillside that is submerged for much of the winter but dries out a bit in spring, making it easier to get photos of them. Seeing them is always a good sign that spring is near. Smelling them is difficult.
The cloud deck over Mount Monadnock shows what our weather has been like for the past 2 weeks. Short glimpses of sun are all we’ve seen through small breaks in clouds that stretch from horizon to horizon. Spring is coming, but it isn’t coming quickly or easily-it seems like it’s going to have to be pried from the cold fist of winter one warm, sunny day at a time. I’ll just have to be patient, like the mountain.
The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. ~Henry Van Dyke
Thanks for stopping in.
Marvelous as usual. I am still on the lookout for some skunk cabbages. Though they just got snow buried again, wherever they may be.
Thanks! We had a couple of inches of snow here too, but it’s melting fast. Skunk cabbages like swampy areas.
Fascinating post, as always! I especially like the photo of the moon!
Thanks Montucky. I’ve always liked getting pictures of the moon.
An encouraging post! I can hardly wait for spring. I’m eager to get outside and start poking around in people’s gardens with my camera (:-D ). Are the Split gill mushrooms as soft as they look?
Surprisingly no Melanie, the split gill mushrooms are touch and rubbery. Books say they might be edible if it wasn’t for their plastic like texture.
We go with March 21 for the start of spring here. I really enjoyed your tree buckets. I have never seen that before.
Spring is just around the corner for you too, then. Tapping sugar maples for the sap and boiling it down into syrup is something that has been happening here for centuries-Native Americans showed the colonials how it was done and we’ve been doing it ever since. Certain birch trees can also be tapped, but you need much more sap to make a gallon of syrup. I don’t know about the availability of sugar maples in the U.K., but I wouldn’t be surprised if you could tap a few of your birches.
I remember those long gray stretches of Feb and March. I really hated dreaded it.
I may have coped better with those long winters if I’d lived closer to nature. My northern homes were all in inner cities and winter in a northern city has almost NO upside!
I really enjoy your posts. Seeing the forests through your appreciative eyes is inspiring.
This one is unusual because it has been unbroken for the most part, with very little sun.
I see a comical chicken in the willow gall.
Now that you said that, I can too. It’s a funny looking thing.
Great pictures and strange finds, so different, I love the fluffy gill mushrooms.
Yes, I do seem to find some strange things.
Another wonderful and informative post. I love reading about the assemblage of varied and unusual things you come up with. What makes it most interesting is that you have such a different focus — on the small things, that I usually overlook.
I walked by them for years too, and now I’m seeing what I missed for so long. I think that these tiny, beautiful things are worth the effort it takes to find them and I’m glad you enjoy seeing them.
You know, I have always thought that I was very observant while walking through the woods, but you’re always finding things that I’ve never seen before, from the moss to the slime mold. Some of that may be regional differences, and some of it is because my first priority has been spotting wildlife, but all of your posts tell me that I need to expand my horizons, and that’s always a good thing!
I walk very slow with my eyes on or near the ground just ahead of me, stopping to look around occasionally, if that’s any help Jerry. I even see a few birds that way, but they’re usually too fast for me. The things that I like to shoot are so small that I often watch for color variations rather than shapes. Even though I’m color blind I can still tell if there is a difference. It’s really just practice and spending a lot of time in the woods-no secret recipe.
Very nice, Allen…and I do love that shot of the moon…wonderful. 🙂
Thanks Scott. Glad you like it. You need to get yourself a tripod and have a go at the moon yourself!
You’re welcome…and while I do have a little bit of a tripod already, it appears that my camera is seriously lacking in the ability to capture it so well…. I really need to play with it a bit more…
I just set mine on automatic for the moon because I don’t have an infinity setting on the lens.
Don’t know that I’m able to do that with my camera, but will check it out…thank you.
Another interesting post, thanks. I’ve never seen Split gill mushrooms or any mushroom with a fuzzy coat like that! I’ve seen skunk cabbage this year but not that far along, and now they are buried in 8 inches of snow.
The quote is so true.
🙂
You’re welcome Chris. Split gill moshrooms are small, about the size of a nickel, and grow on dead hard wood branches. They’re easy to see because they are so white against the darker wood. We have some skunk cabbages that are farther along than these. I’ll go back for more pictures this weekend unless we are also buried under snow.
Great post Allen. I really wish I could get out for a long look at spring arriving in England but I just don’t have the time at the moment. Reading your posts really helps; thanks.
Thank you James. Better to be busy than broke, I’d say. Spring will be here for awhile yet.
Wonderful shots. I love the smiling gall and the iconic sap buckets. It’s a little ironic that I reading your posting about the signs of spring as the first real snow of the winter is falling in Northern Virginia.
I was just watching the local news and they said that the D.C. area would probably get hit the hardest, Mike. Nothing to do but roll with the punches!
Looking forward to a hike this weekend. I wonder what signs of spring I’ll see?
It’s happening, but slowly. Glad you’re feeling better.