Last Saturday the plan was for a quick visit the Ashuelot River to see if the burning bushes had all turned pink. I thought it would take no more than a half hour but nature had other plans, and I was there all morning. We’ve had close to ten inches of rain recently so as this photo shows, the river was quite high.
High water means good waves and since I Iove trying to get a good curling wave photo they drew me like a magnet.
Taking wave photos takes a while because the first step for me is watching and letting myself find the rhythm. Rivers have a rhythm which, without trying too hard, you can tune into. Once you’ve found the rhythm you can often just click the shutter button again and again and catch a wave almost every time. But they won’t all be perfect or blog worthy. This one was my favorite for this day.
This is what they look like when they’re building themselves up, getting ready to curl and break. My trigger finger was a little early in this case but you can’t win them all, even when you’re in tune with the river.
I finally remembered why I came and pulled myself away from the waves to see the burning bushes (Euonymus alatus.) They were very pink but not the soft, almost white pastel pink that I expected. They still had some orange in them, I think.
Though some leaves had gone white and had fallen from the bushes most looked like these. You have to watch them very closely at this time of year because hundreds of bushes can lose their leaves overnight. With it dark now when I get home from work it could be that I won’t have another chance.
They are very beautiful and it’s too bad that they are so invasive. As these photos show you can see hundreds of burning bushes and not much else. That’s because they grow thickly enough to shade out other plants and form a monoculture. Rabbits hide in them and birds eat the berries but few native plants can grow in a thicket like this. Their sale is banned in New Hampshire for that very reason.
The burning bushes grow all along this backwater that parallels the river. I don’t know how true it is but I’ve heard that this is a manmade channel that was dug so boats could reach a mill that once stood at the head of it, which is where I was standing when I took this photo. There is a lot of old iron and concrete rubble here, so it could be what’s left of the old mill. I had quite a time getting through the rubble and the brush to get to this spot but it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, so I was determined.
On the way out a beautiful young beech lit by a sunbeam caught my eye.
It was a cool morning and several large mullein plants (Verbascum thapsus) looked to be an even lighter gray than usual with a light coating of frost.
Despite the cold, the mullein bloomed.
Witch hazels (Hamamelis virginiana) grow along a path that follows the river and though I followed it I didn’t see a single witch hazel blossom, but I did see these beautiful witch hazel leaves. Witch hazels don’t seem to be having a good year in this area. I’ve only seen three or four blossoms.
This was surprising. The bit of land I had been walking on has always been a long, narrow peninsula; a sharp finger of land pointing into the river and surrounded on three sides by water, but now the river has made the peninsula’s tip an island. When I was a boy I knew of a secret island in the Ashuelot which I could get to by crossing a fallen oak tree. The last time I visited that spot I found that the river had washed the island away without a trace, and I’m sure that the same thing will happen to this one eventually. I was a little disappointed; there was a large colony of violets that grew right at the base of that big tree on the right, and I used to visit them in the spring when they bloomed.
I saw the startling but beautiful blue of a black raspberry cane (Rubus occidentalis) at the edge of the woods. It’s a color you don’t expect to see unless there are blue jays nearby. On this day there did just happen to be a blue jay there and he called loudly the entire time I was looking at the black raspberry. I wondered if he was jealous.
The river grapes (Vitis riparia) looked like they were becoming raisins, but this is normal. The birds don’t seem to eat them until they’ve been freeze dried for a while. River grapes are also called frost grapes because of the extreme cold they can withstand. Many cultivated grape varieties have been grafted onto the rootstock of this native grape and it’s doubtful that cold will ever kill them. River grapes have been known to survive -57 degrees F. On a warm fall day they can make the forest smell like grape jelly, and often my nose finds them before my eyes do. Native Americans used grape plants for food, juice, jellies, dyes and basketry. Even the young leaves were boiled and eaten, so the grape vine was very important to them.
I missed a blooming dandelion but I was able to enjoy its sparkling seeds.
Red clover (Trifolium pretense) bloomed everywhere near the river, even though slightly frost covered. The rabbits that live here come out in the evening to feed on these clover plants and their constant pruning makes for healthy, bushy clover plants.
The goldenrods (Solidago) were still blooming here and there but they’re looking a little tattered and tired.
A few Queen Anne’s lace plants (Daucus carota) were also still blossoming and looked good and healthy but the flower heads were small. I didn’t see any bigger than a golf ball, but they still provide for the few insects that are still flying.
Most Queen Anne’s lace flower heads looked like this. Nearly stripped of seeds already, even though I’ve read that the seeds are saturated with a volatile oil which smells faintly of turpentine and which discourages birds and mice from eating the seeds. The seeds are carried by the wind and snow.
I thought I saw a feather on a twig but it turned out to be a milkweed seed blowing in the wind. The wind was quite strong but the seed refused to release its hold.
So much for a quick trip to the river. Instead I got another lesson in letting life happen instead of making it happen. It’s always good to let nature lead because when you do you are often drawn from one interesting something to another, and time spent in this way is never wasted.
There is always another layer of awareness, understanding, and delight to be discovered through synchronistic and serendipitous events. ~Hannelie Venucia
Thanks for stopping in.
The stupid question first. I wonder why burning bush is so invasive in New Hampshire when it’s rare to find one in the woods in Michigan? My guess would be soil chemistry or climate, possibly a combination of them.
They are beautiful though, as were all the scenes that you showed us. Such a fine day you had, it is always wise to let nature lead on such days!
Thanks Jerry! I can’t say why you don’t have burning bushes but I can say count you blessings, because if you had them you’d have whole stretches of woodland with nothing but them. It could be that they simply haven’t spread that far yet. It can take quite a long time for some plants to get from here to the Mississippi, and others seem to do it quickly.
They really are beautiful at this time of year so it’s hard to hate them. They put on an amazing show when there are hundreds of them!
We have one Burning Bush. I’d like to take it out but Judy won’t let me. The leaves are beautiful this time of year, even if it is invasive.
I think it’s too late to even worry about its being invasive. I’d just enjoy it!
We could do with some of your rain here as our rivers and ponds have run dry. I liked your wave shot and the burning bushes and their reflections are very lovely.
Thank you Clare. Today we had snow enough to coat the lawns and trees. I hope you’ll see some rain soon. I doubt you want the snow.
I would prefer the rain! We haven’t had a proper snowy winter since 2013 so a little snow would be fine too. I hope your snow is short-lived and doesn’t cause you too much extra work.
Thank you. I think the snow is probably gone already. The first two or three don’t stay long because the ground hasn’t frozen.
Snow just at Christmas would be ideal for you. And for us too!
Wouldn’t that be nice!
I do love that river of yours, Allen…whether it’s rapidly cruising along after the rains or snow-rimmed and barely moving in the depths of winter. And the burning bushes along the man-made backwater “stream,” just wonderful. What a nice way to spend your Saturday…..
Thank you Scott. The Ashuelot does wear many different faces and is always changing. The burning bushes are just one of the things that make the area so beautiful.
You’re very welcome.
Your streams are just gorgeous this time of year!
Thanks Montucky! Yes, they’re probably at their best in the fall.
The burning bushes, despite being invasive, look lovely along the water’s edge. I love the quote, and agree entirely.
Thank you, the burning bushes really do make a statement at this time of year and can be really breathtaking.
That’s the first time I’ve ever used that quote because I just found it. It’s very true!
A visual treat. Great wave shots.
Thank you!
Beautiful as always. My only problem is choosing a favorite, the Queen Ann’s lace? That lovely curling wave? Or the reflection of the burning bushes on the still water by the (possible) old mill. No choice necessary. I have them all thanks to you!
Thanks very much Carol, I’m glad you liked them!
Wonderful wave photos! Your patience payed off.
Thank you Laurie. It does take patience!
Ah, the dandelion seeds and the Queen Anne’s lace holding forth …. beautiful
Thanks very much. That last shot was a misprint. That’s really a milkweed seed, but a pretty one!
Ain’t nature grand? Truly amazing how the river could wash away/cover up your secret island, and make an island of part of a peninsula.
Beautiful photos, Allen. Some of them are quite breathtaking.
Thank you Cynthia. Yes, it takes a lifetime to see it happen but rivers make some dramatic changes to the landscape. In another 40 years or so I’d bet that new island will be gone.
A great posting, as always. Wonder what this area looked like when the mills you mentioned were operating.
I think that last photo is not of a dandelion seed, especially compared to the dandelion seed head further back. Perhaps clematis? or milkweed?
Thank you Al. Of course that’s not a dandelion seed. It’s a milkweed seed and I knew that when I took the photo but somehow the word dandelion found its way into the post. So much for proof reading!
Someday I want to visit the local historical society and see if they have any information about that mill. It must have been a fairly small one.
Wonderful pictures of the river, all of them. The colours showed Nature at her brightest too. I thoroughly enjoyed scrolling through this post, thank you.
You’re welcome Susan, I’m glad you enjoyed them!
Nature had plenty of things to show you. It is a pity the burning bushes are invasive because they look so beautiful. Your wild flowers are still doing well and the Mullein looks very healthy. Amelia
Thank you Amelia. The burning bushes are beautiful and we’ll always have them. I doubt there is any way to stop their spreading now.
The mullein was very healthy!