It certainly appears that spring is upon us but those of us who have been around for a few decades are always wary of a false spring. A false spring, for those who don’t know, is a period of unusual warmth in late winter or early spring that can last long enough to bring plants and animals out of dormancy. When the normal cold temperatures return, sometimes weeks later, the plants and animals that have woken early are taken by surprise and can suffer. I haven’t seen any alarming signs of plants waking early but the bears and skunks are awake, and they’re hungry. The Fish and Game Department has been telling us to stay out of the way of the bears, which is surely good advice even if it is common sense. One of the signs of spring that I’ve always enjoyed is the way willows turn golden, as the one in the above photo has. There is a species of willow from Europe and Asia called golden willow (Salix alba vitellina) but I have no way of knowing if this tree is that one.
Another tree I always love seeing in spring is the red maple, with all of its globular red buds standing out against a blue sky. Each season seems to have its own shade of blue for the sky. A spring sky isn’t quite as crisp as a winter sky but it is still beautiful. The level of humidity in the air can make a difference in the blue of a sky because water vapor and water droplets reflect more of the blue light back into space. This means we see less blue than we do when water vapor is at a lower level. The scientific term for this phenomenon is “Mie scattering.” The sun’s angle can also make a difference in how much of the blue we see.
I found these red maple buds near the Ashuelot River in Keene and was surprised to see so much red on them. The purple bud scales slowly open to reveal more and more red and soon after this stage the actual flowers will begin to show. The flowers open at different times even on the same tree, so the likelihood of them all being wiped out by a sudden cold snap is slim. Early settlers used red maple bark to make ink, and also brown and black dyes. Native Americans used the bark medicinally to treat hives and muscle aches. Tea made from the inner bark was used to treat coughs.
We have sugar maples where I work and someone broke a twig on one of them. The other day I noticed it was dripping sap, so syrup season is under way.
I didn’t see any dandelions blooming but that’s only because I was late getting there. There were three plants in one small area with seed heads all over them. I’ve seen them bloom in January and March but never in February, so I would have liked to have seen them.
The skunk cabbages (Symplocarpus foetidus) are happy in their swamp. Bears that come out of hibernation early will sometimes eat skunk cabbages but not much else bothers them. There is little for bears to at this time of year but a helpful reader wrote in and said that they also dig up and eat the roots of cattails. When I was taking these photos a small flock of ducks burst from the cattails not five feet from me. You won’t need a defibrillator when that happens I’ll tell you, but what struck me most about it was the sound of snarling just before the flock hit the sky. I wonder if they were being stalked by a bobcat when I came along and ruined its hunt. If so I never saw it but it was an angry snarl that didn’t sound like any duck I’ve ever heard.
Through a process called thermogenesis skunk cabbages are able to generate temperatures far higher than the surrounding air. You can often see evidence of skunk cabbage having melted their way through several inches of solid ice. I saw plenty of the splotchy spathes but I didn’t see any that had opened to reveal the flower studded spadix within.
I went to one of my favorite places to find pussy willows and found that they had all been cut down. Luckily I know of more than one place to see them but I had to wonder why anyone would have cut them. Unless you get the roots they’ll grow right back, bushier than ever. I’ve seen willow shoots even grow from cut willow logs, so strong is their life force.
Another fuzzy bud is the magnolia, but I’m scratching my head over what is going on here. The bud scales of the magnolia are fuzzy and gray and they open and fall off when the flowers open, but here it looks like the bud scales have opened to reveal more bud scales. Could the open scales still be there from last spring? Hard to believe but possible, I suppose.
I saw some alder catkins that were still covered with the natural glue that protects the flower buds. Each brown convex bit seen here is a bud scale which will open to let the male flowers bloom. Between the bud scales is a grayish, waterproof “glue” that keeps water out. If water got in and froze, all the tiny flower buds inside would be killed. Many plants use this method to protect their buds.
You can see the same “glue” on the buds of American Elms. Also sugar maples, poplars, lilacs, and some oaks protect the buds in this way. I assume that the warming temperatures melt this waxy glue in spring so the bud scales can open.
In places with a southern exposure the snow pulls back away from the forest, and this happens because the overhanging branches have reduced the amount of snow that made it to the ground along the edges of the woods.
Though the grass in the previous shot was brown I did see some green.
I also saw some mud. They might not seem like much but green grass and mud really get the blood pumping in people who go through the kind of winters we can have here. When I was growing up it wasn’t uncommon to have shoulder deep paths through the snow drifts and 30 degree below zero F. (-34.4 C) temperatures. In those days seeing mud in spring could make you dance for joy. But then mud season came so we put on our boots. Mud season turns our dirt roads into car swallowing quagmires each spring for a month or so.
One of the theories of why evergreen plant leaves turn purple in winter is because they don’t photosynthesize, they don’t need to produce chlorophyll. Another says the leaves dry slightly because the plant doesn’t take up as much water through its roots in winter. It is called “winter bronzing” and whatever the cause it can be beautiful, as these swamp dewberry (Rubus hispidus) leaves show. Before long they’ll go back to green and grow on without having been harmed at all.
The hairy, two part valvate bud scales of the Cornellian cherry are always open just enough to allow a peek inside. The gap between the bud scales will become more yellow as the season progresses and finally clusters of tiny star like yellow flowers will burst from the bud. These buds are small, no bigger than a pea. I’m not sue what the hairs or fibers on the right side are all about. I’ve never seen them on these buds before. Cornelian cherry (Cornus mas) is an introduced ornamental flowering shrub related to dogwoods. It blooms in early spring and has a long history with mankind; its sour red fruit has been eaten for over 7000 years, and the Persians and ancient Romans knew it well.
Daffodil leaves that have been weakened by the cold will often be yellowed and translucent but these looked good and heathy and green. Even if the plant loses its leaves to cold it can still bloom but since it has to photosynthesize to produce enough energy to bloom it probably won’t do so the following year. It might take it a year or two to recover.
I didn’t expect to see tulip leaves but there were several up in this sunny bed.
I know I just showed some lilac buds in my last post but these looked like they had been sculpted by an artist. I thought they were very beautiful and much more interesting than the plain green buds I usually see. You can see all of life, all of creation right here in these buds. Maybe that’s why I’ve spent all of my life watching lilac buds in spring.
I’ll close this post with a look at another venal witch hazel blossom, because it is a very rare thing to see flowers of any kind blooming here in February. They’re tiny little blossoms but their beauty is huge.
When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. ~ Ernest Hemingway
Thanks for stopping in.
Such a wonderful quote!
So many beautiful buds, and those lilac buds best of all! I saw a cornus mas in full bloom today, very lovely!
Thank you Clare. I looked at a Cornus mas today too, and saw that the inner bud scales had started to open so it wont be long before I see yellow in the buds. I also saw some crocuses showing color.
The lilac buds can appear as often as you like because, as you say, they are a work of art. The Cornellain Cheery bud was elegant too. Our willow, hazel and alder catkins are generally very poor this year so far.
Thank you. That’s too bad about the catkins. I wonder why they aren’t doing well.
I often see deformed hazel catkins here but there are so many it doesn’t seem to make a difference.
Thanks for the great post. I enjoy continue learning about New England nature even I am located now on the west. Happy weekend!
On Sat, Feb 29, 2020 at 12:44 AM New Hampshire Garden Solutions wrote:
> New Hampshire Garden Solutions posted: ” It certainly appears that spring > is upon us but those of us who have been around for a few decades are > always wary of a false spring. A false spring, for those who don’t know, is > a period of unusual warmth in late winter or early spring that can last ” >
You’re welcome Jaime, and thank you. I hope it’s warm where you are now!
The signs of spring are beautiful, especially those buds! And there is always a special place in my heart for skunk cabbage. 🙂
Spring is coming, but ever so slowly. Or it could just be my usual impatience at this time of year.
Very interesting!
Growing in my swamp is a big, beautiful, round, bronze-leaf, deciduous native bush (Myrceugenia parvifolia) any nursery owner would die for if he knew that’s what it can grow into. The Mapuche Indians call it chilcón.
I pruned the outer part of my swamp’s trees and bushes to make it easier for botanists to walk through it and observe the amazing variety of plants there, particularly Myrtaceae.
When I pruned a maquí (Aristotelia chilensis) that was shading one-third of that chllcón last fall (your spring), I discovered that the leaves being shaded were green instead of bronze.
One year later the leaves on that part of the chilcón are still green while the rest of the bush’s leaves are still bronze. But it had shed its leaves that winter!
I know the sun’s involved but something else must be too to keep the color difference the same. But what? Does the bush have a memory?
It really puzzles me. 🐶
On Sat, Feb 29, 2020, 5:44 AM New Hampshire Garden Solutions New Hampshire Garden Solutions posted: ” It certainly appears that spring > is upon us but those of us who have been around for a few decades are > always wary of a false spring. A false spring, for those who don’t know, is > a period of unusual warmth in late winter or early spring that can last ” >
Thank you Ron, I’d love to see that swamp!
I’ve seen the reaction you speak of on plants here. American wintergreen comes to mind as one that does it. They’ll be green in shade and bronze in the sun, but I’ve never known why it happens other than it’s the plant’s reaction to sunlight.
Sometimes when you prune a particularly thickly grown shrub you can find that the inside leaves that didn’t get and sun are a different color than the outer leaves that did. It’s a strange but relatively common occurrence.
But I didn’t prune any of that chilcón shrub. I only cut away the maquí that was shading it.
Interesting.
Indeed. The round profile of this shrub was maintained even as it entered the shade of the maquí.
It sound like it must have a natural globular shape or it could be natural sport or hybrid. Many nursery plants have come from sports found in the wild, so it could be worth some money. I’d take some cuttings from it and see if they grew into the same shape. If so I’d call a nurseryman.
It is completely round, about 15′ high BTW, in that mostly uncluttered position at the edge of my swamp. But there are many more examples of this Chilean endemic plant (it is not a hybrid) farther in my swamp. You can clearly see its natural rounded shape but they are more crowded by other plants.
I did show it to a nurseryman 20 miles away near Valdivia, but he didn’t realize its potential.
Too bad, usually nurserymen are very interested in unusual plants. At least the ones I’ve worked with have been. That’s all we used to talk about.
Good morning, Allen! This is definitely a post that seems quite springlike. I was wondering if someone appropriated all those pussy willow stems to sell?? I find them in the flower section at the grocery this time of year, looking ever so tempting. Always makes me think of the children’s verse, which my mom taught me very young. You know it? “I am a little pussy, I’ll never be a cat…”
Went 60 miles south to the DC suburbs this week and there is an early haze of spring color across the treetops. so pretty! Time to start allergy meds.
Thank you Ginny. The willows were cut right down to ground level, so I think some type of clearing is going on. That doesn’t mean they didn’t take the branches though. I haven’t heard that child’s verse. I’m surprised my grandmother never said it. She loved little sayings like that.
I’d guess we’ll be hearing about the cherry trees blooming in DC soon. Someday I’d love to see them in person.
You’re lucky to have seasonal allergies. I have to take allergy pills year round. I don’t like them but they do help.
Probably the result of coppicing that would make that willow grow back three times as many branches, either for use as ornamental pussy willows or as material to make wickerwork or basketry.
The rural folks do that with willows a lot here in Chile.
That could be! I’d love to see the baskets.
They and the pussy willow stems are probably for sale not too far away from the place where they had been cut and were harvested.
Thanks for all those colourful signs of spring, most encouraging.
You’re welcome Susan, it shouldn’t be long! I’d guess you’ll see spring before we do.