More Spring Flowers (And Friends)

Bluets have appeared so the game is on. The game is, how long will it take to find the darkest, bluest bluets? Some are almost white and others are a rich, dark blue but there are many millions of them and the trick is finding them. I don’t run around looking for bluets; when I happen upon them I just take a photo of those that I think might be darker than the ones in the last photo, so the photo above is the one to beat.

Violets have appeared along with the bluets as they often do. I was happy to see lots of white ones in this group. Some believe the whites to be color variants of the purples and others believe they are a distinct species. It doesn’t matter to me what the cause might be. I just enjoy their cheery spring beauty.

Yellow violets are the rarest of all in my experience, but a few years ago I found one in a local park. Since then that one plant has spread into several, so I can now count on seeing them each spring. Provided they aren’t weeded out, that is.

If you’ve seen bluets and violets in bloom then it’s a fair bet that you’ll be seeing wild strawberry blossoms as well. It was a cold morning and the sun hadn’t yet had a chance to dry the dew off these flowers before I came along with a camera, but a night in the 20s hadn’t seemed to hurt them any.

The strawberries that these plants will produce are barely bigger than an aspirin but they have an intense flavor that store bought fruit can’t match. A handful of the warm berries on a hot summer day is delicious. Wild strawberry roots were one of the ingredients in the spring tonic used by native Americans in this part of the country. They believed it purified the blood.

By the time I was born in the 1950s, trailing arbutus had been collected for nosegays to the point of near extinction. My grandmother loved these flowers and she always hoped that she would be able to show them to me but it never happened because we never could find any. She was born near the end of the 1800s and there were plenty of them then, so she could describe the way they looked and their wonderful fragrance well enough so when I finally found some years later, I knew immediately what they were. These days, though I couldn’t call them common, they’re making a good comeback. They should never be picked; not if you want to be able to show them to your own children and grandchildren.

Spring beauties haven’t yet carpeted the forest floor but they are working on it, as can be seen in this photo. They’ve been held back a bit by the cool, cloudy weather but that’s okay with me because this entire colony will be gone shortly after the trees leaf out. The odd thing about them this year is how most of them are white with pink stripes that are so faint they can hardly be seen. I’ve heard that the most colorful ones are those that grow in partial shade but I don’t know how true that is. These plants grow with a southerly exposure and get full sun all afternoon.

This is what I hope to see when I find spring beauties. Each flower is about the size of an aspirin so to get a good shot of one you have to at least get down on your knees.

The sharp eyed readers might have noticed trout lily leaves in amongst the spring beauties in the previous photos. That’s because the two like the same soil and exposure and they often co-mingle and grow side by side. This shot shows how the trout lily plant’s common name came about; its leaves are speckled like a trout’s body and the flower looks just like the much larger native Canada lily blossom. It’s nice to have plant names that make perfect sense once in a while.

Trout lily flowers nod at the ground so this is a hard shot to get. Each plant has just one flower and they can take seven years from seed to flower. Large colonies like the one I found this flower blooming in can be hundreds of years old, so there’s a good chance that it was here before Keene, New Hampshire was even thought of.

Sedges are starting to flower and the flowers of sedges like Pennsylvania sedge and plantain leaved sedge look a lot alike. The buttery colored male flowers appear at the top of the stem, which is called a culm in the world of sedges, and the wispy pure white female flowers usually appear lower down. I say usually because this year I’m seeing female flowers growing along with the male flowers at the top of the culm, as can be seen in this shot. I don’t know if this is “normal” or not but I can’t remember ever seeing it before.

Fern fiddleheads are suddenly popping up everywhere, as they usually do. These cottony fiddleheads belong to cinnamon ferns. An odd thing I noticed is how, because we had so little snow, the stalks from last year didn’t decompose as they usually do after spending months under the snow. The seedlings seen in this shot are those of jewelweed.

Christmas fern fiddleheads are also up. These fiddleheads are very hairy and scaly, and silvery. They’re quite different from other fiddleheads and once up they unfurl quickly. Christmas ferns get their common name from the way the first Europeans brought the evergreen fronds inside during the cold, snowy winters so the long days of sitting inside waiting for spring would be easier to bear.

Elm seeds are ahead of maple seeds this year. When I see these seeds I think of my father, because our street was lined with 200 year old elms and when the seeds fell they clogged up the vents on his car. That used to get him riled up because once hundreds of them were down inside the vents they were almost impossible to get out. The vents I’m speaking of are just below the windshield on the car’s exterior and are called cowl vents. If they get plugged up you get little to no fresh air inside the car. Back then they were a lot harder to clean out than they are today.

Colorful striped maple buds are all over the trees now, and the bud sheaths are just starting to split, as can be seen here. Once the sheath splits the leaves appear, and before too long the tree will flower. These are among the most beautiful buds in a spring forest, in my opinion. The main bud is about as big around as a pencil and might reach 2 – 2.5 inches in length.

These buds backlit by the sun clearly show the darker leaves within. To see the sun shining on trees full of buds is something you don’t forget right away, because sunlight makes them glow.

Male box elder stamens are hanging at the ends of their long filaments now, and soon all it will take is a breeze to get them to release pollen. It seems like many plants are releasing pollen right now.  

For the first time since I started this blog I’m able to show both the male and female flowers of box elder in the same post. What usually happens is, the male flowers appear and the after a space of maybe a week and a half to two weeks the leaves start to appear, and along with them come the female flowers, which are the beautiful long, lime green, sticky pistils seen here. They might look strange compared to the flowers of other trees but box elders grow lots of seeds, so they get the job done.

This robin was making a puddle look like someone had spilled dry ice in it. Every part of its body was in frantic motion except its head.

I saw a painted lady butterfly land in the grass and it was a good thing I did because it was very hard to find again once I took my eyes off it. Green looks orange to me sometimes so it just disappeared. I had to use landmarks like leaves, dandelions, and stones to find it again. It isn’t the first butterfly I’ve seen this spring but it’s the first one willing to pose. Its official name is now the American painted lady butterfly, I’ve read. As opposed to the English painted lady, I suppose.

I found this flower on a shrub at the local college. I believe it was a purple leaved sand cherry. The flowers were smallish at about the size of a dime, or about .70 inches. The red anthers were very pretty, I thought.

Bradford pear is an ornamental pear that is planted for its beautiful flowers. Beautiful to see, that is. You don’t want to put your nose in one, because its scent has been compared to everything from spoiled fish to an open trash bin. I smell fish when I get near it so I get a quick shot and move on. These flowers are larger than those of the sand cherry at about the size of a quarter, or .95 inches.

Ornamental cherries are still blooming beautifully this year. Some trees look as if they couldn’t hold even one more flower. These flowers are also about an inch in diameter. I discovered this year that bees love them. These trees were covered with bees and I thought for sure I’d be stung while getting photos but no, they were more interested in the flowers than in what I was doing.

Native shadbushes (Amelanchier) are blooming as well. They’re actually more tree than bush and cultivated varieties of the wild native are used ornamentally these days. Compare the flowers of the cultivar with those of the wild plant and you’ll see the same things. The main difference is, cultivars will often have more of them. They’re used extensively at the local college.

It’s amazing how plants are responding to the mild winter we had. Everything seems more vigorous and robust, including these beautiful blue grape hyacinths. Grape hyacinths aren’t related to either grapes or hyacinths. They’re actually in the same family as asparagus.

There are many beautiful tulips blooming right now and not too long after them will come the Tradescantias, which I’m always happy to see.

Pulmonaria have just started blossoming. Another name for the plant is lungwort. Lungwort was once considered dangerous because the grey spots on its leaves were associated with an infected lung. Later, it was used to treat lung disorders. The scientific name Pulmonaria comes from the Latin pulmo, meaning lung. This particular plant is odd in the way the flowers start out pink and then turn purple. Odd in my experience, anyway.

I looked for lilac flowers and thought I was too early until I saw these buds just about to open down low on a bush. It won’t be long now.

We’re still having some cold nights down into the 20s F., and that’s holding things back a little. Many trees don’t have that fresh burst of spring green color yet but it is happening slowly, as this Ohio buckeye shows; it’s a sign of things to come. Spring is an amazing time of year so I hope everyone is able to get out and enjoy it.

Spring in the world!  And all things are made new! ~Richard Hovey

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April Showers Bring-Birds?

Last week (4/9 – 4/14) we had several wet days. Since what we saw were showers rather than steady rain, I thought I might have a chance to get some photos of what happens here on showery days.

The hellebore are still going strong. I think they’re doing better this year than I’ve ever seen.

I wasn’t sure what the freezing temperatures we had in March would do to the Forsythia buds but as we see here, they didn’t seem to bother them at all. Their bright cheery color can be seen in large numbers on every street in town right now and I am always reminded how very different spring would be without them.

Siberian bugloss is also known as Brunnera macrophylla. It’s a pretty little plant that is blooming now. I first saw it in a local park and I’ve watched it spread over the years, but not to the point of being invasive. Plant breeders have come up with several different colors in the leaves, and all are quite pretty. Soon these plants will be loaded with flowers.

I love the deeply pleated leaves of false hellebore plants, which have just come up. They don’t look like any other plant in the spring forest at this time of year and that’s a good thing, because they are also the most toxic plant found in the spring forest, and people have died from eating them.

The white parts of these wild leeks look somewhat like scallions and taste somewhere between onion and garlic. They are considered a delicacy and are called ramps. They’re a favorite spring vegetable from Quebec to Tennessee, and ramp festivals are held in almost all states on the U.S. east coast and many other countries in the world. I found them just a couple of yards away from the false hellebores. Since both plants come up at the same time I like to show them in the same post when I can because people claim that they confuse the two, even though they look nothing alike. If you scroll up and down between this shot and the previous one I’m sure you’ll wonder as I do, how anyone could possibly confuse these two plants. If you’re a forager you should know false hellebores well.

Bloodroot blossoms will not open in the rain or on very cloudy days but this day was overcast and bright, so they were open or opening when I got there. “There” was an unexpected place; right along the rail trail I used to walk as a boy. Trains were running then though, and I can’t ever remember seeing a bloodroot along the tracks. I’m pretty sure the railroad used herbicides to keep the weeds (and flowers) down. Anyhow, I was lucky to have an overcast sky because the fine veins in bloodroot petals just disappear in sunshine. These are one of our most beautiful spring ephemeral flowers, here for just a short time. Their common name comes from the blood red sap found in their roots, which Native Americans once used to paint both themselves and their horses.

Every now and then the sun would break through the clouds, but not often. I was glad to see it lighting up these myrtle flowers one day. This is one of the old “shared” plants that passed from neighbor to neighbor in the early 1800s. Along with lilacs, peonies, iris, and orange daylilies it’s a plant that you find out in the middle of nowhere growing beside old cellar holes. After 200 years of growing on their own the plants still bloom as if the house was still standing and they were still being tended.

There is a big difference between looking and actually seeing, and if we just stop for a moment beautiful things like raindrops on lupine leaves can show us that difference. As Henry David Thoreau once said: It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.

I like the dark, loose flowers on this hyacinth. I used to know its name but that doesn’t matter. It’s a beautiful thing and so different from other hyacinths.

Tulips are up and blooming. These small red ones are the first I’ve seen but there are lots more coming.

Ornamental cherry trees just started blossoming. These are the first I’ve seen. We have mostly white and pink.

The magnolias are blooming beautifully this year but you can find frost burns here and there on them if you look closely.

Petals had fallen from another pure white magnolia blossom so I could see into its heart. It was as beautiful without its petals as it was with them.

One day I decided to go to the wetlands because nature seems to be really humming there lately. I sometimes stop at this picnic table to see if I can get a feel for what’s going on. There is a road to the immediate right out of view and on the day this photo was taken my car was parked on the other side of it so I wouldn’t have to go far if it rained.

I met a common grackle on the picnic table one showery day. “Mind if I sit with you?” I asked. It didn’t answer but apparently it did mind because it flew up and landed on a branch. Last time I saw it, it was high up in the top of a pine tree.

After I had sat on the picnic table for a while a cute little yellow bird landed in a bush beside it. “Look at my full belly,” it said. “Yes I see,” I replied. “It looks like you’ve had plenty to eat. You look almost like a pear with wings.”

The little bird had to smile at the thought of itself as a flying pear. Though it didn’t introduce itself I think it might have been a palm warbler, but I can never be 100% certain with birds. I don’t know why anything with the word “palm” in its name would be in New Hampshire in April but that’s what Google lens says. If it’s wrong I hope someone will let me know.

An eastern phoebe (I think) landed on a cattail in front of me, looking thin and forlorn. “I wish I had a full belly,” it said. “Maybe you just need to try a little harder” I suggested. “Watch your cousin over there and see what happens. There seems to be plenty of food for everyone right now.”

There had been a week long insect hatching taking place in the pond and though I didn’t know for sure at this point, I thought the insects might be mayflies. Mayflies can hatch in the billions and sometimes the swarms are so large they can even be seen on radar.

The phoebe’s cousin looked fit and trim and as we watched it would hop off the cattail stem and just fall like dead weight straight down to the surface of the water, where it would spread its wings at the last minute and scoop up an insect. “Try doing that,” I suggested to the thin phoebe. The palm warblers were doing the same thing but I noticed that they would also fly up into the air occasionally. They were all busy little birds, constantly moving.

Overhead was a flock of hundreds of swallows, swooping and diving and barrel rolling through the sky over the pond, eating any hapless insects that flew from the pond surface. They were also making other birds quite agitated. Many of last year’s cattail stems were armed with male red winged blackbirds, all looking up. If a swallow got too close to a nesting site, off the blackbird would go at top speed like a missile, chasing the swallow and matching its flight pattern move for move, plucking at its tail feathers all the way.

I’ve accidentally stumbled into red winged blackbird nesting sites so I didn’t envy the swallows; these blackbirds are fierce defenders of their territory. They have turned me around in a hurry by hovering right in front of my face and beating on my head and face with wildly flapping wings. They have no fear.

This not very good shot shows just a very few of the hundreds of swallows that swarmed together over the pond in a feeding frenzy.

On the pond surface were Canada geese, mallards, hooded mergansers, wood ducks like the pair in this photo, and I don’t know what else. As I sat on the picnic table I had to wonder how word of these hatchings traveled so quickly through nature. It seemed like a messaging system had let everyone know, because all these birds would show up in no time at all when the insects appeared. It was an amazing thing to watch, and I learned quite a lot by just sitting and watching. Male wood ducks are usually very shy and hide away in coves and backwaters where they can’t be seen, yet here they were out in plain sight with people nearby. That’s how strong the pull of easy food pickings was.

It was hard to get a good shot of the wood ducks because they never stopped moving. They and all the other waterfowl swam quickly back and forth, vacuuming up as many insects as they could, just as this one was doing. They must have been eating them by the thousands, and if you figure in all the swallows overhead and the smaller birds in the bushes, along with all the fish, frogs, turtles, and other life in the pond, you begin to see that it’s a miracle that any of the insects survive. But they do survive, and they have for hundreds of millions of years. Mayflies, it is said, are among the most ancient of insects still living. And it’s a good thing they’re still with us; just look at all the life they help support. Though called “mayflies” I’ve read that they can appear at any time from April to October.

It started to rain again and as I got back to the car and reached for the door handle I saw an insect that had been resting on the car fly away. I still can’t say for certain because I only got a quick glimpse, but it looked to me like a mayfly. Other possibilities are stoneflies and caddisflies but what I saw didn’t look like either of those. They’re bigger than mayflies.

Non biting midges are another good possibility. Midge fly pupae swim to the surface and emerge as adults, which look a lot like mosquitoes. They mate in a swarm shortly after becoming adults, so they sound like a good possibility as well. Adults live for 3-5 days.

After all this talk of mayflies I knew I’d better show you one. A year or two ago I got this shot of one hiding on a fern stalk. According to what I read about them online the dull opaque color of the wings means this mayfly was at the “subimago stage,” which is halfway between the nymph and adult stages. This is when they are most vulnerable, so they will often hide in the undergrowth at pond edges. At the adult stage they have no mouth parts and cannot eat. They mate and the female lays her eggs in water, and both she and the male will die after living for just a day or two.

I found this photo of non-biting midges, also called lake flies, on Wikipedia. It was taken by Alexsuchy near Lake Winnebago in Neenah, Wisconsin. These insects like a surface water temperature of 60 degrees F. to hatch, while Damselflies prefer 70 degrees F. If I’d had a way to measure the water temperature I would have had my answer. Mayflies require very clean water but midge larvae are somewhat tolerant of pollution.

When a fly fisherman ties a fly he tries to make that fly look like whatever insect will be hatching when he uses it. If it’s good enough it will fool the fish into thinking it’s the real thing.

I suppose the moral of this story is, don’t let wet weather stop you. You can often see amazing things on rainy days that you might only rarely see when the sun shines. The beauty and splendor never stops, rain or shine.

Looking at the pond all I could think was that it is an incredible thing how a whole world can rise from what seems like nothing at all. ~Sarah Dressen

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More To See Each Day

More glory of the snow flowers have come along. This is another under used spring flowering bulb that I can find only in one spot in a local park. I think it must be another of those flowers that people simply aren’t aware of. It’s too bad we don’t have a public garden here where people could go to learn the names of flowers they like and to see how they can be used in a garden.

It’s already time to say goodbye to the crocuses. They were beautiful this year despite the snow and cold they went through.

New flowers have taken over for the crocuses. Hyacinths and daffodils dominate this bed at the local college. I wish I could add fragrance to photos.

Most of the daffodils are in full bloom now. This one was fading a bit already but it was still pretty.

Bleeding hearts are up. These are the tall old fashioned bleeding hearts that disappear in the heat of summer. I like their spring foliage but sometimes it can be hard to catch it in this stage because it grows so fast. These plants will be blooming in no time.

Scilla blossoms are at their peak right now and since they’re my favorite color, I’m happy that they are. This spring bulb always looks better planted in large numbers, as these were.

I think it’s safe to say that lilacs are going to have a great year. As long as we don’t have another freeze, that is.

The Japanese magnolia buds that I showed in the last post have opened. As I mentioned they are this plum color outside….

…and white on the inside. As I also said, the petals tend to flop around a lot.

Violas seem tired this year. I can remember plants full of flowers but these plants at the local college are getting old so they can only manage one or two blooms at a time now. They were show stopping when they were in their prime.

It’s getting to be time now for the flowering shrubs and trees to add to the beauty. Japanese andromeda are one of the first shrubs to bloom and this year they are heavy with flowers that look like tiny fairy lights mounted in gold. They must like mild winters; I’ve never seen them bloom like they are now.

Once just by dumb luck I took a photo of a henbit flower and saw lots of hairs that I couldn’t see with my eyes, so every now and then I try for the hairs. This shot is this year’s the result. It’s a tiny but very hairy flower. It’s in the deadnettle family and some call it henbit deadnettle. The red parts seen under the hood are its four stamens. It has two long and two short stamens, much like ground ivy. I’ve read that its name comes from the way hens peck at the flowers but it isn’t the flowers they’re after; it’s the four tiny seeds the flowers produce.

Dandelions haven’t stopped since February. It seems like each time I go out I see even more. Many this year have had huge flowers on them but I’d say these were average.

I went to the wetlands hoping I might see some dragonflies but it must have been too early. I did see some red maples shining in the morning sunlight though, and they were beautiful. I also saw a small orange butterfly but it was too quick for me.

I sat on a picnic table on the side of the road and this bird flew into a bush beside me. Google lens says it’s a song sparrow but I wonder, because it squawked but didn’t really sing. Last year while I was sitting on the same picnic table a bird that looked like this one flew into the same bush, but that one sang beautifully.

When I got up to leave after sitting for a while I saw that a muskrat had come up out of the pond to eat some of the fresh green grass shoots. Its front paws looked just like little hands but with long claws. Muskrats must be famished for something green in spring; I’ve seen them do this once or twice before but it’s rare to see one expose itself in daylight when people are around. Muskrats can be aggressive if they feel threatened, so it’s best to give them plenty of space.

Muskrats are smaller than beavers and their ears are small, flat against the head and hard to see while a beaver’s ears are larger, protruding, and easy to see. The tails are the best way to tell them apart but the tail isn’t always visible. A muskrat can curl its rat like tail around its body as this one had but I don’t think beavers are able to do this with their longer, flat tails. Any time I’ve seen a beaver on dry land its tail was obvious.

On Tuesday it reached 70 degrees F. and the turtles came out in large numbers to soak up some warmth. At first I thought I was seeing just that larger turtle but then I moved a little and saw another one behind it. Then I got home and looked at the photo and saw another one coming out of the water. The scene looked like they had wrecked a bamboo raft and were scrambling to safety but it was really just last year’s cattail stems scattered around. While I was getting shots of turtles I heard a deep throated bullfrog croaking off in the distance; the first I’ve heard this year.

I think the mourning doves have been taking turkey lessons, because as I walked down a road recently I watched two doves stopping traffic. Anyone who knows these birds knows how skittish they can be but this particular pair were so interested in something in the road, they had no fear. A car came along at speed but the driver had to hit the brakes, letting the car creep along until the doves moved slowly out of the way, just as turkeys do. After taking a couple of shots I kept walking, but when I looked back there they were again, right back in the middle of the road. I’ve read that the name “mourning” dove comes from the mournful sound they make.

Willows were absolutely glowing on a recent cloudy day. I was surprised because they were female flowers, which in willows aren’t as showy or as brightly colored as male flowers.

This is what the female (pistillate) flowers look like. They’re smaller, paler, and obviously evenly spaced.

This is what the male (staminate) flowers look like. They’re a bright, banana yellow and are bigger than the female flowers. Though they are also evenly spaced it isn’t readily apparent. They often look kind of chaotic and one sided.

I went to see how the hobblebush flower buds were coming along. They aren’t very big yet because they bloom in May but they’re bigger than the last time I saw them. Each flower bud is between two young leaves that look like they’re made of corduroy. They are in their bunny face mode right how but soon the leaves will flatten out and uncurl and the beautiful snow white flowers will start to open. Hobblebushes are one of our most beautiful native viburnums.

The male flower bud scales on box elders have opened to reveal the reddish brown colored stamens within. They should grow quickly out of the buds now, and before long each stamen will dangle at the end of a long filament. A week or so after they have fully developed, the female flowers, which are sticky lime green pistils, will appear along with the leaves. Box elder flowers are quite beautiful but since the trees are considered “weed trees” they are becoming increasingly hard to find and get close to. Box elder is in the maple family and is considered one of the “soft maples.” The oldest intact Native American flute ever found was made from box elder.

Next time you’re walking under a tree why not stop for a moment and reach up and pull down a branch? Just take a look at the buds; it takes little effort and even less time, and you might be amazed that you have been walking right by something so beautiful for so long. These slightly hairy, richly colored Norway maple buds are about at their peak of beauty right now. Soon they’ll open and large clusters of yellow flowers will spill out of them. Norway Maple is actually an invasive tree but so many towns and cities have planted them as landscape specimens, it’s far too late to do much about it now. I find them in the woods fairly regularly.

Every bird, every tree, every flower reminds me what a blessing and privilege it is just to be alive.
 ~Marty Rubin

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A Beautiful Recovery

As this photo shows the crocuses have recovered beautifully from the snowstorm I showed in the last post. Spring flowers look delicate but they’re built for snow and cold. April is when the spring ephemeral wildflowers really get going so there will be lots to see this month, both in and out of the garden.

I had to get another shot of one of my favorite crocuses. I hope you aren’t getting tired of seeing them. It’s their shading that makes them so beautiful, in my opinion.

The hyacinths are out fully now and this one reminded me of a stalk full of scilla blossoms. The color and the shape of the flowers is similar.

I see so many flowers it’s impossible to pick a favorite, but one of my favorite spring flowering bulbs is striped squill. It looks a lot like a scilla in size but its flowers are white with blue pin stripes. I think for me it is their simplicity that makes them a favorite. It’s amazing how just a simple line on a flower petal can look so elegant and beautiful. They bloom at just about the same time as scilla and seeing both blooming together is a beautiful sight. Years ago when I started this blog they were very hard to find but now any good spring bulb seller will have them. Still, I know of only one place to see them blossom. It’s hard to believe that something so beautiful could be so under used. I think the answer is simply that since people don’t see them in gardens, they don’t know what they are and don’t know what to ask for. I’ve had countless people ask me about them over the years when they’ve seen me taking photos of them. Their Sunday go to meeting name is Puschkinia scilloides, but simply Googling “striped squill” will get you there. Take a look; you might fall in love with them as I did years ago.

The hellebores have fully opened now, even though this shot was taken a slightly before this one had.

I took these photos because I thought you might like to see what most people walk right by. There’s a lot going on in there.

The buds on the Japanese magnolias are showing color now. I think this one’s name is “Jane.” It will have bicolor petals that are dark on the outside and pure white on the inside. Some are pinkish like this one and others are purple. Their colors are very beautiful but the petals kind of flop around. They’re very different than the flowers on a star magnolia.

Once again glory of the snow refused to blossom until the snow had melted. I don’t know where its name came from but I do know that I’ve never once seen it blossom in the snow. I have seen almost every other spring flowering bulb bloom in the snow however, so this one’s name must have been more wish than fact. In the end it really doesn’t matter, because it’s a pretty flower.

I looked for bees on all the garden flowers and saw none. Then I looked at the dandelions and there they were. I don’t get too many shots of things in flight but this bee was indeed hovering over the flower.

Robins used to be a reliable sign of spring but many stay here all year now so that isn’t entirely true anymore. What is a sign of spring when it comes to robins is when you see them pulling worms up out of the soil. That means the ground has thawed and is warm enough for the worms to come to the surface. It also means the soil is warm enough for spring wildflowers to start growing.

I was surprised to see this lilac’s bud scales had pulled back enough to reveal the flower buds within. It grows in a local park so I don’t know its name but I do know it will bloom earlier than any other lilac I’ve seen. We had a white lilac that my mother planted and that was the lilac that started me watching lilac buds in spring when I was a boy. I’ve watched them every year since. If you take a look at them once or twice each week they can tell you a lot about spring’s progression.  

In a different park in a different part of town this lilac with its striking bicolor buds grows. I haven’t been able to find out its name yet but its buds have grown quite a lot since I last saw them.

I saw a Japanese maple in the same park that still had last year’s leaves on it. That isn’t unusual but the way they have held on to their fall color sure is.

I went to see a favorite red maple and found that many of its male flower buds had been killed by the cold. Those we see here should be bright red, not that dark, bruised purplish color. This tree blooms a little later than most others and is very pretty, but not this year.

This shot from a few years ago shows the same tree full of flowers. What makes it so beautiful is how almost all the flowers bloom at once and how the filaments hold the stamens out away from the flower clusters so they look like bright, red and yellow pincushions. This was the first red maple to show me how spicy the fragrance could be from a tree all in bloom. Before the leaves appear red and silver maples can be tough to tell apart so I just call any tree that looks like this a red maple. The tree doesn’t care what I call it and neither do I, so until the leaves appear it’s a red maple. Once the leaves appear it might have to graduate to silver.

Skunk cabbages are producing leaves now. This is when, for just a short time, the leaves actually look like cabbage leaves. Soon each plant will be huge, with a crown of leaves 3-5 feet across and thigh high.

Coltsfoot flowers are everywhere now. Soon they’ll go to seed and have white cottony seedheads, and the leaves will start to appear. Spring ephemerals don’t stay around too long so to catch them you really have to get out there every day. Fleeting, is what they are.

There are a few plants that usually show fresh spring growth more or less at the same time, so when I see one I start to look for the others. They are plantain leaved sedge, seen above. Ramps, which are a kind of wild onion or leek. False hellebore, which is the most toxic plant in the spring forest. Skunk cabbage, spring beauties, bloodroot, and trout lilies.

They were a little hard to see in that previous photo but the plantain leaved sedge was full of new flower stalks like that seen above. Very soon now the butter yellow male flowers will appear at the top of the stem and the feathery white female flowers will blossom lower down on the same stem. Pennsylvania sedge is much more common and blossoms at about the same time. Pennsylvania sedge looks like clumps of grass growing here and there in groups on the forest floor.

I went to see the striped maples once again and found that all the bud scales had opened. Soon a large, velvety, pink and orange bud will appear from each pair of bud scales, and they’ll grow quickly. It’s hard to believe that all of the current year’s growth will appear from these small buds but it does.

Mouse ear chickweeds have started blooming. They are also called sticky chickweed because of the sticky sap the hairy stems produce. They are usually one of the earliest spring flowers to appear, along with ground ivy and henbit. This plant is all about fives, with 5 white petals and 5 green sepals in a star shape behind them. At the time of this photo it was already producing seed pods, one of which can be seen below the flowers.

Ground ivy wasn’t bothered by snow. If anything it’s growing better than it was. Sometimes spring snow is called “poor man’s fertilizer” due to all the nitrates it drags down out of the atmosphere, and there is a lot of truth in that. This is from a website called “Farm and Dairy”: Nitrates are the result of nitrogen dioxide dissolving in moisture in the clouds. Precipitation pulls the nitrates down to the ground creating poor man’s fertilizer. Rain and snow both contain nitrogen, but snow by its nature provides a better delivery method. Nutrients are slowly released into the soil as the snow melts. This is especially effective early in the spring when the ground is thawed. Nature is a wonderful thing! (Actually it isn’t a thing, but I won’t get into that now.)

While I was crawling around admiring spring beauty blossoms I saw tiny green wood frogs jumping in the leaf litter and I heard the first spring peepers on this day. Wood frogs make a kind of quacking noise and spring peepers peep. Loudly. I’ve also seen wood ducks and mergansers eating lots of unknown insects that were hatching in ponds, and Canada geese acting like they were looking for nesting sites. Nature knows that spring is here, now if only the weather would agree.

On this past Thursday we had another spring snowstorm that dropped over a foot of snow in northern parts of the state and caused avalanches in the White Mountains, and downed trees and powerlines, but in my yard I saw barely three inches. It was like the last storm; heavy and wet, but the difference between this storm and the last was, it stayed warm enough so nothing froze this time. You may have heard about the “Major nor’easter slamming into New England” and I suppose that was true in places, but here it was just more poor man’s fertilizer.

I focused on this little blossom and it was as if the beauty of all the flowers I’ve ever seen came together, right here in this tiny blossom. I’m convinced that one thing this world will never run out of is beauty.

Treasures are hidden away in quiet places. They speak in soft tones and often become silenced as we approach. They don’t beg to be found, but embrace us if we do happen to find them. They are the product of completely ordinary circumstances unfolding in wonderfully extraordinary ways. They are found hidden in the nooks and crannies of our existence; all around us if we quit allowing our attention to be captivated by that which is noisy and listen for that which is quiet and still. ~Craig D. Lounsbrough

Thanks for coming by. I hope nobody lost power during the storm.

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After the Snow

According to the folks at the National Weather Service 2.7 inches of snow fell in Keene last weekend. That was then packed down by all the rain that followed, and then all of that froze solid over night so there was no shoveling it until the next day. I had to wait until the sun came out on Monday and softened it up a bit, but even then I was shoveling inch thick plates of ice. Once the shoveling was done (actually I was done) I went out to see how the flowers had come through and was surprised to see how unaffected many of them were. It was the temperature, which got down into the low teens, more than the snow that harmed many of them so the ones that were insulated by snow cover pulled through. Those blossoms higher up on bushes and trees weren’t so lucky.

Sometimes it looked like the weight of the heavy wet snow rather than cold damaged the most delicate blossoms.

Many crocuses were open for business as this one was, but there were no takers. All the bees were somewhere other than here and I haven’t seen one in days now.  

There is something about flowers in the snow that I find very beautiful. Maybe it’s because it’s so unexpected; one of those things that takes you completely by surprise.

You can see in this shot how the snow had turned to ice. That little scilla blossom seemed very interested in what was going on in that hole that had opened up. Maybe warmth? On very cold days I’ve seen warmth in the form of vapor coming out of holes like that one many times. It’s the warmth of the earth.

These crocuses looked like they were made of silver and inlayed with lapis lazuli. They were very beautiful, I thought.

The vernal witch hazels said “Ho hum, another spring storm.” They’ve been blooming since February and they’ll continue for as long as the cool weather does. Too much heat is the enemy of these flowers.

I’ve been waiting for the hellebores but apparently they were waiting for some snow to bloom in. Another name for them is “Lenten rose” and this year it looks as if they’ve lived up to it.

This hyacinth, the first one I’ve seen blooming, had been frost burned but there are more to come.

The Cornelian cherries miscalculated and were hit hard by the freezing temperatures. The petals on the flowers seen here were more liquid than solid, and the same was true for most of the buds. I don’t know if these cultivars bear fruit because I’ve never seen it, but if they do there won’t be much of it this year. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen to them.

The one Forsythia I know of with open flowers was also hit hard but this is one among many thousands. Most buds on other bushes aren’t even showing color yet so they might still blossom as usual. It’s hard to tell with Forsythia because they’re so susceptible to cold. Many years in spring you’ll find blossoms only at the bottom of the bushes, and that’s because that’s where the snow was deep enough to insulate the buds against the cold. This year we had little to no snow and no real cold until now, so it’s anyone’s guess how they’ll blossom. 

I’ve seen very few open magnolia buds but the ones that had opened before last weekend had been burned brown by the cold. They shouldn’t look like a brown paper bag.

The tiny threads that are female American Hazelnut flowers should be bright red so these were looking a bit under the weather. That could be cold damage but it could also be that they had been pollinated and didn’t need to be there anymore. Only the fall hazelnut crop will let us know for sure.

The willow blossoms that had opened before the storm were lost to the cold but most had not opened yet, so there are still many millions of willow blossoms to come. They’re an important early spring source of pollen and nectar, so I’m glad they hadn’t all opened.

How very beautiful life is and how easy it is to love. There is no work to it; gratitude is the key that unlocks the door and then love and joy just quietly seep in.

The willows in this post bloom under the power lines on power company property so I have to walk an old access road to get to them. The heavy rain over the weekend flooded the road and then the cold froze it all, so I had to walk in the unmowed rough alongside it. There was lots of melting ice on this day, and that meant the water in places was deep enough to be over my boot tops. I can’t say that I got out of there completely dry.

There were lots of shapes in the ice. This one reminded me of a caladium leaf. If you don’t know what a caladium is but have a lot of shade in your yard, you might want to look them up.

There were bubbles full of bubbles in many places. This scene reminded me of a painting of glass. I’ve seen paintings with glasses in them that looked as real as any photo, and it was because the artist had been so accurate with the highlights. I’ve had several painters ask me if they could paint my photos and I think this would be a great one to practice with. Nature makes each little spot of sunlight and the white outline on each bubble look so simple…..

Dandelions said what snow? It didn’t even slow them down.

This shot is of many thousands of red maple flowers that fell to the pavement during the rain. This is a common sight in spring, usually made up of male flowers that have released their pollen. Once they’ve done their job and are no longer needed they fall like rain.

Mallards didn’t seem to mind the ice and snow, and what must have been very cold water.

Before the storm the summit of Mount Monadnock was down to bare granite but now there’s a lot of snow up there for the sun to melt away again. Since we’ve had another cool and cloudy week it hasn’t gone anywhere yet. I’ve always thought the mountain was at its most beautiful when capped by snow so I had to stop and get a shot of it to show you. On this day I had the added bonus of a cloud shadow.

Flowers carry not only beauty but also the silent song of love. You just have to feel it. ~Debasish Mridha

Thanks for stopping in. I hope everyone has a Happy Easter tomorrow.

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The First Spring Wildflowers Appear

The biggest surprise this week was finding beautiful spring beauty flowers in bloom a full two weeks ahead of the earliest date I had ever seen them, which was April first. The most beautiful things in nature are almost always right there in plain sight but to find them we have to look carefully, and we have to see. Spring beauty blossoms are about the size of an aspirin and can be very hard to see when they first appear. Later on though, when the forest floor is carpeted with them it will be an unforgettable sight. They are usually the first true ephemeral wildflowers to appear in the forest in this area, so nothing says spring quite like they do.

I had to stop when I saw this dandelion blossom shining like a miniature sun. It was twice as big as all the others in the area and so very bright and beautiful more light shined out of it than on it. It was producing pollen and the bees were rejoicing. I joined them as I knelt to take its photo, so happy that spring was here once again. The Taraxacon part of the scientific name comes from the Greek taraxos, meaning disorder, and akos, meaning remedy. Dandelions have been used as both food and medicine for thousands of years and there was even a time when grass was torn up to make more room for them. A weed is an opinion, nothing more.

Signs that spring is here are everywhere now. Female American hazelnut blossoms are about as big and numerous as they ever get.

The brownish, triangular, manta ray like bud scales have opened on many of the American hazelnut catkins. Under each bud scale are three to five tiny yellowish male flowers, so there can be hundreds of flowers per catkin, wound in a spiral formation around a central stalk. Just a touch and this bush released clouds of pollen.

Female red and silver maple flowers look much like the female hazelnut flowers; just single forked threads called stigma or stigmas. Though I’ve seen many insects they don’t rely on them; they’re sticky so they can catch the pollen that the male flowers release to the wind.

Pollen production is now in full swing on male red and silver maple flowers. Some were producing pollen before they had even grown out of the bud.

Like the American hazelnut catkins, alder catkins have also started opening. Alder catkins have beautiful deep purple bud scales which contrast nicely with the tiny yellowish flowers. These flowers weren’t quite fully opened yet and weren’t releasing pollen but you can see how the buds spiral down the central stalk. Nature uses spirals almost everywhere, from spiral galaxies billions of light years across to the tiny spiral cochlea in our inner ear. That’s because the spiral, it is said, is the most efficient way for something to grow. More can be packed into a spiral than into other shapes and one of the easiest ways to see and understand this is to look at a sunflower that has gone to seed. If you look closely you see that much of nature is all about spirals.

As I poked around looking at this and that one day I had the feeling that I was being watched and I was, by a robin. This was the first one to get close to me this year. They’re very inquisitive birds and I usually have one or two land very near me each spring. One spring I was looking at maple flowers and a robin landed right beside me and began kicking up leaves, making all kinds of noise. They want to see you and they want to be seen by you.

I think this one might have been working on a nest because it didn’t seem to want to leave this spot. I didn’t want to upset it so I took a quick shot or two and let it be. This shot would have been okay one if I hadn’t cut its tail off.

Speaking of birds, in that last post I showed what I thought was a purple finch but this week I was walking through the campus of the local college and heard that wonderful song again. This time I used the Merlin bird identification app on my phone and it said “house finch.” I was quite far away from where I heard it the first time but what are the chances of both a house finch and purple finch being on the same campus? I can’t answer that but it may be that Susan’s thought that it was a house finch last week had been correct. When I was just a boy I decided I would never be able to be a “bird person” because of colorblindness, so any uncommon bird name you find on this blog should be taken with a grain of salt. I try hard not to misinform but I certainly don’t know all the bird names. Really the whole point of the story of that bird was me hoping you would want to go and hear its song online. I still hope that, because you’ll hear one of the most beautiful sounds that nature has to offer. It is like spring being presented in song.

I looked at lilac buds and noticed that the bud scales were relaxing and starting to open. I’ve been fascinated by the way buds open in spring since I was a small boy. Lilacs were the first ones I watched because they were everywhere and easy to get to.

I saw something entirely different on these lilac buds; squirrel hair blowing in the breeze.

The lilac with squirrel hair was on the grounds of the local college, and so was this squirrel. This must have been an educated squirrel because as I watched it looked both ways before crossing the road. Squirrels that live on the college campus have an easy life. Not only are there millions of acorns falling from the huge old oaks; there are also hickory, black walnut, hazelnut, butternut, and other nut bearing trees growing there. Even a blind squirrel could find nuts there.

Call it creeping Charlie or gill over the ground or ground ivy; no matter what you want to call it is one of the most common “weeds” in these parts, and it’s in full bloom. This plant grew at both may father’s and grandmother’s houses so it was one of the first plants I ever paid any real attention to. As far back as memory can take me, it’s there. It is in the mint family and is related to henbit. It has a powerful and unusual odor when it is mowed, with the kind of odor that gets in the back of your throat and stays there for a while. I think that’s what I remember most about it; that strange scent.

Speaking of henbit, here it is now. This plant’s name comes from the way chickens peck at it. Like ground ivy it is in the mint family and I’ve heard that all parts of it are edible. I like its tiny cartoonish flowers that always look surprised. Surprised that spring is here? Surprised by their own existence? I can’t say.

I haven’t seen any willow flowers yet but poplar catkins have appeared. Poplar trees are in the willow family but the catkins are usually two or three times as big as those on willows. Instead of bright yellow flowers the male poplar flowers will be a beautiful chocolate brown. The shiny brown bud scales are also bigger than willow bud scales and since those bud scales weren’t sticky I know this tree was an aspen, which like cottonwood is just another variety of poplar.

One of my favorite spring garden flowers is this beautiful crocus, called the vernal crocus. Some call them “Tommys” due to their scientific name, which is Crocus tommasinianus. I like the delicate shading inside.

I think the person who planned this bed at the local college might have miscalculated the bloom times of the crocuses because the yellow flowers always bloom two weeks before the purple, so by the time the purples show themselves the yellows are passing on. Of course that might have been the plan but in my opinion it is the contrasting colors that make the show. But that’s just another opinion.

I watched the bees fly quickly from purple to purple flower, not stopping to sample them at all. Clearly, they prefer the yellow flowers, for whatever reason. It can’t be pollen because I saw a few purple flowers that had pollen spilled on their petals.

The daffodils are promising to be beautiful this year as long as we don’t get a cold snap.

The scilla at the college are fully out in places but in other places there isn’t a sign of them. Mine aren’t showing at all yet.

More reticulated iris have come along. I love the color of these flowers but the foliage grows quite fast to twice the height of the flowers and gets in the way, especially if you’re trying to photograph them.

This beautiful reticulated iris suddenly appeared in my yard recently and there are quite a few more on the way. They came from Maryland, from my blogging friend Ginny, so once again I’ll say thanks Ginny! Your flowery gift just keeps on giving and I’m very happy to have them. Nobody I used to garden for ever grew reticulated iris.

I went to the swamp where skunk cabbages grow to see how they were doing and I took a step backward and heard a crunching sound. I knew what that meant and sure enough when I turned around I saw that I had accidentally stepped on one of the plants. Though the damage might look severe I only damaged the outer spathe, so none of the actual flowers were harmed. The flowers are the tiny white bits that spiral around the spadix, which is the thing that looks sort of like a brain. These flowers are special though, because they are the female flowers of the skunk cabbage, and you’ve never seen them before on this blog.

In all the years I’ve been doing this blog each spring I’ve shown you skunk cabbage flowers, and in all those years not once did I find female flowers. Every spring they’ve been male flowers like those seen in this photo. So what are the odds of seeing female flowers only once in 13 years? Quite high, apparently. The odd thing is, not once did I tell myself that I really should show you the female flowers. That I think, is because I’m always so relieved to have gotten a photo at all. To get photos of skunk cabbage flowers you are in a swamp, usually standing or kneeling in mud and/or water, trying to train your lens through an opening that might be two inches wide if you’re lucky. It’s a bit like shining a flashlight into a cave and It gets more challenging each year, so I’m usually happy to leave the swamp.

With the weekly rains we’ve been having the rivers are running quite high, so I thought I’d go and see if I could catch a wave. Here it is.

I hope you are having good weather and are seeing plenty of signs of spring, wherever you are.

If you listen to the birds, every day will have a song in it. ~Kyo Maclear

Thanks for coming by.

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Birds, Buds, and Blossoms

Anyone who has spent time in nature knows that spring doesn’t happen on a certain calendar day. Spring happens when everything seems to just come together one day. The breeze is warmer, the sunshine is warmer, all the birds are singing, insects appear, and people are smiling for no reason they can explain. But even with all these outward signs the first day of spring is sensed more than anything else, and you find that you are finally able to say “this is spring.” That day came last Sunday, March 3rd. One of the outward signs was a beautiful bird song that seemed to be coming from everywhere. I was at the local college and the bird, which I believe was a purple finch, was up in the top of a tree on the corner of one of the large brick buildings surrounding the campus quad. Its warbling song echoed off the brick walls and made it sound like it came from all directions. I think it was enjoying the natural PA system it had found, because even though it saw me with my camera it still sang beautifully.

The purple finch, bird people say, has no purple on it but it does have a color they call “raspberry” on its head, chest, face and back. It’s the New Hampshire State Bird, and it gained that title by edging a chicken out of the top spot. I’d guess whoever named it, if they thought that color was purple, must have been even more colorblind than I am.

The purpose of this day’s outing was to see if I could find any female American hazelnut flowers in bloom. I chose a bush that had male catkins that were golden colored and pliable, signalling that they were almost ready to open and start releasing pollen.

And there were the tiny scarlet stigmas that are the female flowers. I saw several in bloom on this day.  The easiest way to find out if they’re ready to bloom is by watching the male catkins. When they turn a gold color the female flowers will be along at any time, because these tiny, sticky red threads are what will catch the pollen that is released on by the male flowers on the golden catkins. If pollination is successful each tiny thread will become a hazelnut.

As I usually do, I’ll show this photo I took years ago to give you a sense of scale. These are some of the smallest flowers I try to get photos of. The only way I can find them is by looking for a hint of color.  

While I was looking at the hazelnuts I noticed birds up in the staghord sumacs. They were quite far away and I couldn’t tell what they were, but I had seen flocks of robins here before eating the sumac berries so I assumed that’s what they were. I was surprised, once I started clicking the shutter, to see that they were bluebirds. I believe the one seen here is a female. It’s not a great shot but considering how far away I was on a dim, overcast day I had to be happy with it.

A male bluebird was high up on one of the rungs that climb the towers that hold up the high tension wires in this area. He didn’t have to worry about me following him up there.

Red winged blackbirds have come back in great numbers and for those who have never seen one, this is a classic pose for the males. Males are the only ones with red and yellow shoulder patches. Returning males will sit at the tops of cattail stems to guard the spot they’ve chosen for a nest, and they will fight off any interlopers. Their lives seem to revolve around cattail plants; they use them for cover and build their nests down low to the ground in them. They use their soft fluffy seeds to line the nest and they dig grubs out of last year’s stems. Males will often hide down in the cattails. Their strange whirring, clicking, and whistling calls are the only thing that gives them away. Males will also sit high in the tops of tall trees in large numbers, I found out just the other day.

I’ve never seen the back of a red winged blackbird before. They have some interesting makings.

I took a closer look at a few buds I saw here and there. This Japanese honeysuckle bud was already leafing out, and I wasn’t surprised. That’s one way invasives get a leg up on natives; they start photosynthesizing earlier in spring and later into the fall. It’s common to see Japanese honeysuckles with leaves after most other leaves have fallen.

I didn’t expect to see any movement in beech buds but it’ll soon be time to start watching them for signs of bending. Sunlight excites the cells on the sunlit side of the bud and they grow faster than the cells on the shaded side, and this creates tension in the bud. They slowly curl into a rainbow shaped arc until finally something has to give, and they quite literally tear themselves open. The new leaves just out of the bud are one of the most beautiful things seen in a spring forest but it isn’t just beech; oak, maple, hickory and others are also all beautiful in their own ways. Spring is the time to start watching nature closely if you care about learning anything from it.

Nothing is happening with the brambles like blackberry and raspberry yet but they open quite early so it shouldn’t be too long before they start leafing out.

Last year I saw the beautiful chrome yellow-green buds of bitternut hickory and I told myself I’d go back and see the leaves, but of course I forgot.

This year I’ve written myself a note and stuck it on the refrigerator. SEE BITTERNUT HICKORY LEAVES it says. Whether I see them or not is still a 50/50 chance. The thing about writing notes to yourself is, you can still forget where you put the note.

I took another look look at red maple buds to see how they were coming along. Each one of these buds is just about the size of a BB that you’d put in an air rifle. The one in the middle, just above center, had a hole in it and that meant the bud scales were pulling back to let the flowers out of the bud. Very soon I thought, there will be red and silver maple flowers everywhere.

I went back to the same tree a few days later, after a night of heavy rain, and found that most of the buds had indeed opened and had flowers showing. But I also found many of them filled with water. This illustrates the danger of buds opening too early; if we were to have cold enough weather and the rain water in these buds was to freeze, every flower in the bud, 20-25 of them, would be killed. That’s what bud scales are for; they protect the flower buds inside from getting wet and freezing. If they happen to open too early freezing is a real possibility. We had a freeze in May last spring that wiped out most of the apple crop but by then the maples had done their job and were setting seed.

The vernal pools and wetlands are all free of ice now so I’d guess that the spring peepers will start in any time. They usually start singing just about the time the redwing blackbirds appear.

Willows have yet to flower but the catkins get bigger every day, so it won’t be long.

This is the first scilla of the season that I’ve seen. I think they’re one of the prettiest spring flowering bulbs, especially when massed in the hundreds. I found it in bloom at the local college. Mine aren’t showing yet.

This is the second viola I’ve seen this spring; another college find. I couldn’t get close to it so we could get a better look but there should be many more coming along. I like its color.

Last week I told the story of the lady who asked me about coming to see the locust when what she meant was crocus. This week I was standing on the sidewalk getting shots of these yellow crocus blossoms when a young girl came along with who I would guess must have been her mother and grandmother. “Oh look honey!” the mother said, “The tulips are blooming!” I just smiled and said hello. As John Maxwell said: You cannot overestimate the unimportance of practically everything.

I saw a few reticulated irises at the college, but just a few. There used to be large numbers of them but I suppose they must be fading away with age. Or something. From what I understand the college no longer has a gardener, or someone dedicated to strictly gardening. It’s too bad, because they need one.

These particular reticulated irises are not fading away. In fact they’re increasing and I’m happy about that because they grow in my yard. Last year I had one flower and this year I have four. I have to thank my blogging friend Ginny for them because she sent them up from Maryland. They’re much bigger than those at the college so I’m guessing they must be a hybrid. They’re beautiful whatever they are, so thanks Ginny!

Another thing I’m happy about is daylight savings time begins tonight. I’m all for later sunsets.

It’s spring fever, that’s what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want — oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so! ~Mark Twain

Thanks for stopping in.

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A Few More Signs of Spring

Spring is happening slowly again after a warm spell two weeks or so ago that got everything moving quickly. I saw maple sap flowing a couple of weeks ago but they just put out the sap buckets this past week. Warm days and cold nights are what keeps the sap flowing so hopefully it won’t get too hot too fast and spoil the season. Right now it’s just about right, with daytime temps in the 40s and nights getting down into the 20s. Much higher than the 40s during the daytime means the sap won’t run.

The red and silver maples are beautiful, loaded as they are with bright red buds.

I haven’t seen any maple flowers yet though, even though the buds are swelling. Maple trees can flower quickly and a tree that doesn’t have any flowers one day can be loaded with them the next. Maple syrup producers are in no hurry to see the trees flower because that means syrup season is just about done. Red maple sap especially, gets bitter once the trees start flowering, but luckily all the trees don’t blossom at the same time. Blossom times are naturally staggered so you can find trees just coming into flower as much as a month after you saw the first one blossom. Nature has it all figured out.

I looked at some of the beautiful powder blue box elder buds but they didn’t seem to be doing too much yet. They’re one of the last trees in the maple family to flower. The powdery blue color on the new twigs and buds is cause by the same natural wax like crystals that cause the bloom on blueberries, plums, and many other things. It’s there essentially to protect from sunburn.

I took that shot of the box elder branch at the river, where I also saw a large gathering of ducks and geese. This Canada goose was alone but there were also pairs there as well.

This is unusual. Ducks and geese don’t usually come onto the shore when there are people around. In fact they usually swim or fly to the other side of the river as soon as they see someone coming. It didn’t take long to see what had removed their fear though; someone had dumped something they liked on shore and they all wanted it. From a distance it looked like it might have been cracked corn but I couldn’t be sure. Every time Mr. and Mrs. Mallard got too close the geese would run them off, so it must have been tasty. Feeding wildfowl isn’t usually done here so I can’t even guess what this was all about.

After the mallards got the geese really bothered one goose stood guard while the other ate. You can see the mallards over there on the right, plotting their next move.

The waterfowl are happy the ice is gone but really, there wasn’t much to go. Nobody was able to skate on this pond at a local park this year and the annual ice fishing derby on Wilson Pond in Swanzey was cancelled because what little ice there was never got thick enough to support all the fishermen. This is the first time that has happened, I think.

I gave up on winter and went looking for spring, and I was glad I did. I found this grouping of crocus at the local college. A lady saw me with my camera and stopped me to ask if I was there to get photos of the locust. “The locust?” I asked. She must have thought I looked confused because she said “You know; the flowers.” I told her that I thought she might mean the crocus and if so yes, that was what I was there for. “Oh yes, locusts are insects, right?” “Yes, that’s right,” I replied. I didn’t want to explain that certain trees are also known as locusts. “Well, have fun,” she said with a smile, and off she went.  

This one was my favorite.

The ones that are white inside and have three petals that are purple on the outside is another favorite. I think this is the first time I’ve ever found them wide open like this. For years I’ve always found them closed.

At another part of the college there are groups of yellow crocus planted with groups of purple ones. The yellow ones always seem to come up first and there are a lot of them blooming right now.

Bees were enjoying the flowers too.

I was surprised to see the bees because I didn’t think it had warmed up enough for them. They left these crocus flowers covered in pollen, so their timing was perfect.

I saw one or two purple crocuses but there are lots more to come. I always like to see the beautiful feathery designs inside these flowers.

I saw just one wrinkled viola blossom, which is odd. In years past these plants often bloomed before the crocuses, and it was colder then.

There are a few snowdrops in bloom with many more of them to come as well.

Dandelions started blooming two or three weeks ago and they haven’t stopped since. Not even snow can slow them down this year.

The Cornelian cherries are taking it slow. Like a child dipping one toe at a time in the water to feel its temperature, they seem to open one bud at a time to feel the air temperature. Then one day, as if a silent signal was given, you’ll walk by one of the trees and all its flowers will be open.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen the spring blooming witch hazels with so many flowers on them as they have this year. I stopped to see them one day and found bees all over them. The flowers seen here seemed to be what they preferred. Possibly because they’re the most fragrant. You can smell them from a block away when the breeze is right.

I like this one because of its long petals. On cold nights they roll up each of the four petals and tuck them in for the night. In the morning when the sun warms them they unroll them again. That’s why the petals always look so crinkly, almost like crepe paper. Other than to attract insects and look pretty, they serve no real purpose.

Go out in nature and you will find yourself in love with all of nature’s kind. ~Wald Wassermann

Thanks for coming by.

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Ice and Snow

I had an idea that I’d do a post about puddle ice because thanks to Doreen, who commented on the last post, a mystery I’ve wondered about for most of my life has been solved. It concerns the wave like lines in puddle ice, and it turns out they have nothing to do with waves; they’re caused by the way the water drains out from under the ice. Capillary action causes the water to adhere to the ice above it and form thin bands. What look like wave lines from above show where the ice bands join, and if you break the ice and turn it over you can see how they are created. In essence, the band edges appear as ribs, thicker where a line appears on the surface. This can also happen with pond and lake ice. If you’d like a much better explanation than I’ve given here, here is the link that Doreen sent in. https://www.storyofsnow.com/blog1.php/why-do-frozen-ponds-and-puddles-have-lines

I should say that, as soon as I decided to do a post on puddle ice it snowed and covered all the puddles. And it hasn’t stopped; we’re seeing two or three storms a week. Some, as the above photo shows, are barely deep enough to cover a bird’s toes. But it only takes a dusting to cover the ice on a puddle, so I had to go back to older posts to find that first photo. All the way back 2013 if I remember correctly.

Other storms have dropped a few inches, but no more than 4 or 5. This photo of a spruce cone which was heated by the sun and melted its way down into the snow is a good illustration of our snow depth now. Once the sun gets a little stronger many things will melt their way into the snow. I’ve seen twigs, oak leaves, hemlock branches; basically anything dark colored melt into the snow as the sunshine heats them up.

I gave up on puddle ice and decided to show you other ice forms. A few years ago I visited this stream and found it full of beautiful lacy ice, but this time I found mostly colorful reflections.

I also saw an odd shaped ice bauble floating 3 or 4 inches above the stream.

This ice grew out from the shore but I’m not sure I know how to describe it, so it’s a good thing a picture is worth a thousand words.

This ice, made up of long needle like strands, also grew out from the stream bank. Ice can be fascinating because you never know exactly what shape you will find it in. The variety of shapes and forms seems to be endless.

I went to another stream and found what I call “curtain ice.”

This ice had beautiful clear, pointed crystals on it that looked much like quartz crystals.

Further upstream ice “flowers” had grown on the branches of a streamside shrub. Further up the stems smaller flowers showed how much the depth of the water had changed.

Small, still ponds had iced over but most water bodies with a strong current remained ice free except along their banks. I loved the colors in this ice.

There are many theories about how the spidery shapes seen in ice form but the one thing they all have in common is that they have to start with a hole in the ice. What makes the hole is not agreed upon; some say beavers and /or muskrats chew hole in the ice so they can breathe. I doubt that one. Another theory says that gasses from decaying vegetation on the bottom of the pond keep the ice from freezing in that particular spot. Having seen many vertical strings of bubbles frozen in ice, this theory seems a bit more plausible.

Anyhow, everyone agrees that it has to start with a hole in the ice. Everyone seems to agree that when it snows the weight of the snow causes the ice to sink, and when it sinks water is forced out of the hole. The water wets the snow and darkens it, causing the random spidery shapes. Then it gets cold enough to freeze it all up again, with most of the ice opaque and light colored except for the darker spidery forms.

I once worked for a man who wanted to have a skating party at the small pond on his property, but the surface of the ice was all bumpy and uneven. He hired two of us to flood the surface so it would re-freeze nice and level. We chopped a hole in the ice and with a rented gas powered pump, we pumped the water from the pond out onto the ice. The weight of the water on top of it caused the ice to sink and when it did a gusher came up out of the hole, flooding the ice with too much water to re-freeze before the skating party was to happen.

By the time we left we no longer cared about the skating party; we were freezing, soaked, and disgusted with ourselves for having fallen for such a foolish plan. But the episode makes the theory of the snow weighing down the ice enough to make water come up out of any holes in it a little more plausible to me.

On the coldest day we’ve had this winter (about 16 degrees F.) I went to the Ashuelot falls in Keene to see if there were any ice pancakes forming. Ice pancakes form from the foam that the falling water creates, and there was plenty of foam. Normally on a warmer day this foam would just dissipate and float downstream but in very cold weather it freezes quickly. If you see pancake ice you know it’s quite cold.

The current keeps the frozen foam from forming a into a single sheet by constantly spinning it in large groups that look like spiral galaxies. This also makes the loose foam come together and form circles. When the circles of foam bump into each other they form rims and start to look like pancakes. They can range in size from car tires to cantaloupes, and sometimes smaller. Most of these on this day were nearer cantaloupe size.

This example wasn’t completely round yet but if it stayed cold enough and kept moving it would be. You can see how it is made entirely of foam and how the surrounding loose foam joins the larger circles. I’ve read that pancake ice is very rare outside of the Arctic, even though I see them forming here at least once every winter. In the Arctic, the ice pancakes can stick or stack together and form ridges that pile on top of each other and reach up to 60 feet thick, but here on the Ashuelot they either melt or just float downstream. If you’d like to learn more about this ice form just Google “pancake ice.”

When I was leaving Ashuelot falls I looked upstream and saw what looked like a beaver lodge. How can that be? I wondered. I was here a short while ago and there was no sign of a beaver lodge, and I know they don’t build them that fast. When I got closer I saw that a tree had floated downstream and had gotten hung up on the relatively shallow bottom. What had looked like a beaver lodge was part of its root ball. It really is amazing how many trees fall into this river.

I went to another waterfall, this time at Swanzey lake in Swanzey, and found that the ice had sculpted itself into a strange shape so I took a couple of shots of it. When I looked at the photos later I saw that the camera settings certainly weren’t set for stop action, because the water in the waterfall looked like something I can’t even think of a word for. Silver hair? I don’t know, but I almost deleted this one. It makes me dizzy if I look at it too long.

One of my favorite things to see in the woods is a stream that sunlight has turned to gold. I took this photo last November and apparently forgot about it, but I’m putting it into this post in the hope that it might warm you up a bit after such a cold adventure. There is ice in it but it feels a little warmer than the others. A shawl and a cup of hot chocolate might be just about perfect right now.

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter. ~John Burroughs

Thanks for stopping in.

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Things I’ve Seen

Hello again everyone. I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and are having a Happy New Year. I thought I’d better do a post and show you the first real snow of the year, which fell on January 7th. I say it’s the first real snow because we’ve had a dusting and a nuisance storm of about half an inch, but this one was a plowable 4-5 inches. This old road is one of my favorite winter scenes so I had to get out and get a photo of it before the wind blew all the snow off the trees. I thought it was very beautiful with all the colors of the oak and beech leaves mingling with the white of the snow in the morning sunshine.

This shot of a dandelion in bloom was taken by cellphone just 7 days before that first snowy photo, on December 31st. The two photos illustrate the up and down, freeze and thaw cycle we seem to be stuck in at present. The snowy scenes didn’t last long thanks to 48 degree temps and pouring rain just 2 days after it fell. That’s the way the last two or three winters have gone. The dandelion is the only flower I’ve seen bloom in all 12 months of the year.

This just about says it all. If you can picture that little raindrop freezing at night and then thawing when the sun hits it in the morning, that seems to be the latest version of winter in New Hampshire. I read that the average winter temperature is now 3.5 degrees warmer than it was ten years ago. I’m not here to talk about right or wrong, good or bad, or this or that; I’m just reporting what is.

We had enough rain to make the river flood and when that happens thankfully much of the water ends up in unused fields like this one. I like to get out after the flood waters freeze because that’s when you can see and hear some amazing things.

When the ice begins to shatter some ice plates can be bigger than a car tire. When they’re supported by shrubs as they were here you can tell how deep the water was when it froze over. In this instance I guessed it had been about 18 inches deep. Standing here watching and hearing them break up in the warm sunshine was amazing.

The ground isn’t frozen yet so the water quickly drains away, leaving the ice high and dry. When the sun hits this ice that is left just floating in space the ice begins to shatter and when it does it sings, sometimes tinkling, sometimes crashing. Sometimes you hear loud snapping sounds made by ice cracking under pressure, and it can be startling.

That’s just what happened shortly after this killdeer landed beside me while I was standing and listening to the ice sing. All of the sudden there was a loud snap and crash when ice caved in and this bird flew straight up into the sky like it was a jet airplane. I had to laugh because I had jumped at the sound of the loud noise as well. This is not a great shot of this bird because I was surprised to see it just feet away and of course I didn’t have my camera turned on so there was a lot of fumbling going on.

Killdeer are in the plover family and aren’t seen that often, at least not by me. Its name comes from its “shrill, two-syllable call,” which someone apparently thought sounded like “kill deer.” Where people get these ideas from, I don’t know. Females lay their eggs directly on the ground, often in gravel. I’ve read that the eggs don’t get eaten by predators because they look like stones. If a predator gets too close to the nest the female will flutter on the ground pretending to have a broken wing, and lure the predator away. It’s a very clever bird.

Of course ice can be beautiful, so I always take a closer look. I love the wave like patterns that are often found frozen in ice but I’ve never been able to figure out how it happens. I’m sure wind must have a lot to do with it.

This was a large piece of ice on the shore of a small pond. I thought it was beautiful, almost like a sand dune in shape, and its color reminded me of puddle ice. Years ago I read that ice that is white like this has more oxygen in it; millions of tiny bubbles color it white. It is almost always very thin and it tinkles like the very thin glass of a fluorescent tube when it breaks.

Endlessly fascinating and beautiful, that’s what ice is to me.

I’ve seen this pond freeze over and then thaw again several times since mid-December. It always has interesting frozen bubbles on its surface.

I’ve seen a few examples of “winter fungi” including this one that I saw peeking out from under the bark on a log in a December. I haven’t bothered identifying it.

I’ve also seen lots of color so far in these colder months. This crowded parchment fungus was at its best on a rainy day and it glowed like a beacon so I could see it long before I reached it. You find this common fungus growing on limbs that have fallen from nearby trees. I always wonder how fungal spores get so high into the crown of a tree. Wind I suppose, or maybe they stick to the feet of birds.

Speaking of birds, I’m seeing lots of bluebirds this year. Years ago I saw my first bluebird sitting on a post and rail fence, and then I didn’t see another one for probably 30 years. That’s because I wasn’t looking in the right places. They like wide open spaces like old fields and wetlands, which is just where I saw this one. They’re a good reason to come out of the forest every now and then because they’re beautiful, and they’re also my favorite color. In warmer months they eat insects and in cold weather seeds and berries. This one heard me coming from a few yards away, just about when I saw him, and turned his head to see what I was up to. Often when I see something so beautiful I forget I have a camera, but on this day I had sense enough to get a shot. I love the curled markings on its feathers. They made me realize that I had never seen a bluebird’s back.

There are lots of dogwoods, many different viburnums, highbush cranberry, and other native fruit bearing shrubs here in the wetlands, so I’m sure that has something to do with the large bluebird population.

Bluebirds like to nest in hollow trees but I knew I wouldn’t find one in this hole, because it was in a fallen log.

Still, I had to take a closer look to see if anyone was home. I didn’t see anyone or hear any little feet rustling but I was happy just to see the beautiful wood grain, so it didn’t matter.

I saw this wooly bear caterpillar sauntering down a road on January 10th. These caterpillars produce their own antifreeze and can freeze solid in winter but once the temperatures rise into the 40s F in spring they thaw out and begin feeding on dandelion and other early spring greens. Eventually it will spin a cocoon and emerge as a beautiful tiger moth. From that point on it has only two weeks to live. Unfortunately this wasn’t spring; it was January and 48 degrees, so I wondered if it had been fooled into thinking it was spring. Since winter has been so warm so far, maybe it hasn’t yet felt the need to freeze.

I saw some nice staghorn clubmoss in a colony bigger than I’ve ever seen. Clubmosses are ancient spore bearing plants which have been here for millions of years. Fossil records show they once grew to the size of trees. I don’t see this one too often but they are obviously very happy in this spot.

I saw what I thought was a flattened pinecone on the road one day. While I took photos of it I convinced myself that it was a pinecone that had been run over so many times it had been cut in half. “This will be an interesting thing for the blog” I told myself, “I doubt many people have seen half a pinecone.” Then all of the sudden I realized what I was seeing was not a pinecone at all; it was simply the flattened tip of a pine branch. How could I have totally missed the reality of what I was seeing?

These are the moments in nature that are important, but most of them will go unnoticed. That is unfortunate because it is in these moments that all thought can drain from the mind, and for a second or two you can experience the silence and peace of pure emptiness. Something clicks like a key in a lock, and perhaps for the first time you see with absolute clarity. Others have said the same:

In his 1926 book The Gentle Art of Tramping Stephen Graham said it this way: As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged on the shingly beach of a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.

Author Charlene Spretnak said it this way: There are sacred moments in life when we experience in rational and very direct ways that separation, the boundary between ourselves and other people and between ourselves and nature, is illusion.

Author Marty Rubin said this: People think in such grand terms-unconditional love, changing the world, doing the impossible. They fail to see the joy, the immense bliss, which lies in simple everyday acts.

Author Charles de Lint had this to say: Free your heart from your mind. Embrace wonder for one moment without the need to consider how that wonder came to be, without the need to justify if it be real or not.

Native American Black Elk from the Lakota tribe said this: And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell, and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of things in the spirit, and the shapes of all shapes as they must live together like one being.

They and many more over the course of countess centuries have all said the same thing in different ways, so I suppose the moral of this too long story is simply; pay close attention. When you get a glimpse of how an imagined life has fooled you into believing what is false, that is the time to see truth. You can’t make it happen and you can’t stop it from happening, but you can stay quiet and pay attention. Then, let whatever wants to happen, happen. As the old saying goes; when the student is ready the teacher will appear. My point is that the teacher doesn’t always have to be human. It can come in any form, anywhere, at any time.

I found a bush full of beautiful bluish seedpods that I hadn’t ever seen. Google lens told me it was a pearl bush and when I looked at a photo it was obvious where the name came from. The flowers remind me of mock orange but the white flower buds on leafless branches look like strings of pearls. I thought its seedpods were beautiful.

A little critter had zipped up the snow.

This blog has evolved over time I suppose, but the message is really still the same: walk slowly and look closely, and marvel at all the wonder and beauty in this paradise we find ourselves in. Anyone can do this, so why not try? Let nature gently lead you back to yourself and remind you that you don’t stop at your skin. You are so much more; beyond knowing, beyond description. Lose yourself in life’s sweet song and let life’s energy surge through you, just as it was doing in everything seen in these photos.

The splendor of Silence—of snow-jeweled hills and of ice. ~Ingram Crockett

Thanks for coming by.

NOTE: I’m not back full time yet. I will still be posting sporadically until sometime in March. Take care.

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