Every single time I walk the banks of the Ashuelot River without fail I see something new or unexpected, and this rainy day I spent exploring its banks in Swanzey was no exception. I hope you won’t mind the dreariness of some of these photos. I had to take what nature gave me and after such a long drought a little rain was very welcome. Ashuelot is pronounced ash-wee-lot or ash-will-lot depending on who you ask. It is thought to mean “ the place between” by Native American Pennacook or Natick tribes.
Raindrops on multiflora rose hips (Rosa multiflora) told the story of the day. The many hips on this single plant show why it’s so invasive. It originally came from China and, as the old familiar story goes, almost immediately escaped and started to spread rapidly. It grows over the tops of shrubs and smothers them by hogging all the available sunshine and I’ve seen it grow 30 feet into a tree. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was imported more for its scent than any other reason, because to smell it is like smelling a bit of heaven on earth.
A pumpkin floated downriver. In October 2010 close to 100,000 pumpkins were washed into the Connecticut River during flooding in Bradford, Vermont. This one will probably go to the Atlantic, just like they did.
What I thought was a feather in the sand turned out to be a milkweed seed. Though many insects feed on milkweed and birds use the fluffy down from its seed pods for nest building, I’ve never found any reference to birds or animals eating any part of the plant.
Juniper haircap moss plants (Polytrichum juniperinum) look like tiny green starbursts there among the river stones.
Badge moss (Plagiomnium insigne) is a pretty little moss that loves to grow in shady moist places and along stream banks. This was the first time I had ever seen it growing here though I’ve walked this river bank countless times. The long oval leaves have a border of tiny sharp teeth and become dull and shriveled looking when they’re dry. It looked like something had been eating them.
Beech leaves have gone pale and dry, and rustle in the wind. They’re very pretty at all stages of their life, I think. One of the things I look forward to most each spring is beech buds unfurling. Just for a short time they look like silver angel wings.
Split gill mushrooms (Schizophyllum commune) had their winter coats on, as usual. These are “winter” mushrooms that are usually about the size of a dime but can occasionally get bigger than that. They grow on every continent except Antarctica and because of that are said to be the most studied mushroom on earth. Their wooly coats make them very easy to identify.
The “gills” on the split gill fungus are actually folds on its underside that split lengthwise when it dries out. The splits close over the fertile surfaces as the mushroom shrivels in dry weather. When rehydrated by rain the splits reopen, the spore-producing surfaces are exposed to the air, and spores are released. These beautiful little mushrooms are very tough and leathery. I don’t see them that often and I’ve never seen two growing together as they are in this photo.
Orange crust fungus (Stereum complicatum) grew on the underside of a branch, in excellent form and color because of the rain. This small fungus has a smooth whitish underside with no pores. The complicatum part of the scientific name means “folded back on itself” and the above photo shows these examples just starting that folding. It also likes to grow on the logs of deciduous trees.
The muscle wood tree (Carpinus caroliniana) is also known as American hornbeam and ironwood. It’s very hard and dense and its common name comes from the way that it looks like it has muscles undulating under its bark much like our muscles appear under our skin. This tree is a smallish understory tree that is usually found on flood plains and other areas that may be wet for part of the year. It’s hard to find one of any great size because they have a short lifespan.
A woodpecker had drilled a perfectly conical hole through this piece of wood. It looked like a funnel.
These small red berries are what make Japanese barberry (Berberis thunbergii) so invasive. The shrub grows into nearly impenetrable thickets here along the river and fruits prolifically. It crowds out native plants and can prevent all but the smallest animals getting through. The berries are rich in vitamin C and are sometimes used to make jams and jellies.
Its sharp spines will tell you which variety of barberry you have. European barberry (Berberis vulgaris) and American barberry (Berberis canadensis) both have clusters of 3 or more spines but since American barberry doesn’t grow in New England it comes down to European or Japanese here, and only Japanese barberry has single spines. They’re numerous and very sharp. I had to walk through them to get several of these photos and my legs got a bit scratched up.
Barberry has yellow inner bark that glows with just the scrape of a thumbnail. A bright yellow dye can be made from chipped barberry stems and roots, and the Chinese have used barberry medicinally for about 3000 years.
It is common enough to love a place but have you ever loved a thing, like a river? I first dipped my toes into the waters of the Ashuelot River so long ago I can’t even remember how old I was. I’ve swam it, paddled it, explored it and lived near its banks for the greater part of my lifetime. Though readers might get tired of hearing about the Ashuelot it means home to me and is something I love, and I’m very grateful for what it has taught me over the years. In fact if it wasn’t for the river this blog probably wouldn’t exist.
I often visit the sandy area in the previous photo because there are usually animal tracks there, but on this day all I saw were the tracks of raindrops. I think this is the first time I haven’t seen animal tracks there. Raccoons come to feed on the many river mussels, deer come to drink, and beaver and muskrats live here.
It must be a good year for jelly fungi because I’m seeing more than I ever have. Or maybe it’s just the rain that’s bringing them out. In any case they’re another winter fungi and I expect to see them at this time of year. I almost always find them on stumps and logs; often on oak. After a rain is the best time to look for them, so this day was perfect. The above example of witch’s butter (Tremella mesenterica) grew on a fallen branch and looked plump and happy.
Purple stemmed beggar ticks (Bidens connata) grow well in the wet soil at the edges of ponds and rivers and there are plenty of plants here along the Ashuelot. It has curious little yellow orange ray-less disc flowers that never seem to fully open and dark, purple-black stems. The name beggar ticks comes from its seeds, which are heavily barbed as the example in the above photo shows. They stick to fur and clothing like ticks and I had them all over me by the time I left the river. They don’t brush off; they have to be picked off one by one.
The first river you paddle runs through the rest of your life. It bubbles up in pools and eddies to remind you who you are. ~ Lynn Noel
Thanks for stopping in.
A flotilla of pumpkins going down the Connecticut River I would like to have seen!
Multiflora rose I remember well, along with beech and hornbeam. Thank you for these posts of plants old and new. Always something to learn here.
Thank you Lavinia. I remember seeing photos in the newspaper when all those pumpkins washed into the river. It was a little strange!
Love the floating pumpkin
Thank you Judy. It’s not something I see every day!
But does your river have a song written for it? I was born beside the Clyde if you want to listen to its song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZX0h4X7s1c. Most of the photographs are from the estuary area and explain perhaps why my knowledge of nature was so limited. Amelia
I think you could still find plenty of nature there but you might have to look a little harder.
As far as I know there hasn’t ever been a song about the Ashuelot.
There was more nature in the hills and the lochs behind the river 🙂
Isn’t it wonderful to have a place like the Ashuelot to which you can return again and again and become so familiar with it that you can discover and understand all of the phases of life there!
Yes, it sure is! I hope every child will find one.
Your river looks so much better with a drop more water in it, even on a gloomy day! I did love your photo of the juniper moss plants!
Thanks very much Clare. One of my favorite things to do is take photos of the curling waves on the river but there haven’t been any for quite a while. I’m hoping to see some tomorrow after a couple of more rainy days this week.
The mosses were at their best thanks to the rain and it was the perfect time to find them.
I am glad you’ve had some rain before the snow arrives. I look forward to your wave shots!
Thank you Clare. I got just one this morning, but that should be enough. It’s fun trying do it!
Take a survey of people who flyfish for trout as to wether it’s possible to love a river, I think you can guess what the results would be. 😉
It’s good to see that you’re finally getting some rain to bring out the fungi. The split gill fungus is incredibly beautiful! I’ve seen the fuzzy tops before, but never looked underneath.
If there’s one good thing about this time of the year, it’s easier to see the spines of the barberry and multiflora rose bushes. The bad things are the seeds like the purple stemmed beggar ticks and others like them.
Thanks Jerry! Yes, I suppose almost everybody loves a river they’ve spent time on. In my early years I couldn’t step out of the house without seeing the Ashuelot, so it has always been there.
I hope next time you see a split gill you’ll take a peek underneath. It’s where all the fun is and is always worth wet knees!
Yes it is easier to see the spiny bushes but also to see things beyond them, so sometimes you have to fight your way through to get to what you want to see. That’s how I ended up covered in beggar ticks!
Lovely rose hips. The pumpkin floating down the river seems like something out of a children’s story. Too bad about all the Japaniese Barberry.
I’m not sure how the pumpkin got there but I’m sure there’s a story behind it.
Since we’ll never be rid of the barberry I guess we’ll just have to get used to it.
Just one comment-you mentioned that you didn’t know of any animals that eat milkweed. I’m sure you recall that monarch caterpillars eat milkweed leaves. Other insects as well.
Kathy
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Thank you Kathy. Yes, I mentioned insects, but I meant mammals. It turns out that two readers have seen porcupines and groundhogs eating them.
In regards to animals eating milkweed, I watched and photographed a groundhog eating milkweed leaves. I, too, had thought that nothing ate it, except insects
Thanks very much for that information Anne. That means that both groundhogs and porcupines (per Cindy) eat them, which is something the books don’t tell you.
Thanks for sharing your special place, Alan. 🙂 Can’t say it enough, I love your blog.
I’ve seen porcupines eating milkweed plants and many parts are edible and unique. Samuel Thayer has a great chapter on milkweed in his excellent book “The Forager’s Harvest”. One can eat the shoots like asparagus, the flower buds like broccoli, the young pods like okra, and the early silk like cheese! (When boiled, the silk and young, still white seeds melt into a stringy, white substance that looks and tastes much like melted cheese. I’ve tried it and it’s true.)
Young milkweed plants can look like Dogbane so one needs to be careful with that. And most plants have the best time to harvest and the best ways to prepare it. Imagine eating a tomato too early or too late. Or a raw potato cut up in a salad. Knowledge is key. And, of course, leave most milkweed plants for the monarchs!!
Thank you Cindy. That’s interesting about porcupines eating it. I’ve never even seen eaten or chewed on plants.
I don’t do any foraging so I don’t have that book but I have heard of people eating the young shoots. I don’t usually recommend that readers eat what they find because explaining all the dos and don’ts gets too complicated and I’d hate for anyone to get sick.
Thanks again!
I cannot tell you how many times while mowing the lawn a multiflora cane has ripped open my arm with those curved spine. I detest the plant, but love the scent just as you do. I have one spot where it fights bitterweet. I consider that the battle of the invasive garden. Thanks for the post, the photo of the split gill fungus is awesome.
You’re welcome John, and thank you. Maybe the rose and bittersweet will choke each other out, but I doubt it. I think digging them out is the only way, but that’s no easy task.
Meanwhile, at least you have the fragrance of the rose. There’s nothing quite like it on a warm summer evening!
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I am so glad that you like the Ashuelot so much, there is nothing like water, especially running water to give one enormous pleasure.
Thank you Susan. I agree!