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

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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

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Late March / Early April Flowers

Back in 2013 a day long September deluge dumped 6 inches of rain and there was plenty of flooding. None in this area was severe but there were some local road washouts. I was disappointed at the time to see a spot near a road by my house had washed away because there was a large colony of coltsfoot plants growing there, and I thought they had all been washed into the brook. When the town came along and dumped truckloads of 4 inch crushed stone in the spot, I said goodbye coltsfoot. I didn’t think they’d ever get through all that stone but then one year I noticed one or two flowers, and another year five or six, until this year the colony looks almost as good as it did before the flood. What is seen here is only part of it.

But the really odd thing is how, though the colony has been returning over the past several years, the plants always bloomed about two weeks later than all the other coltsfoot colonies I knew of. Then, all of the sudden this year the plants bloomed first, before I saw any others. I can’t explain it but it made me happy to think that, once again I have only to walk down the road to see one of our earliest blooming wildflowers. It isn’t a native plant but nobody seems to care. They couldn’t even be called common here.

Just so you don’t confuse coltsfoot with dandelions as some seem to, here is a dandelion. If you scroll up to the coltsfoot blossom in the previous shot you’ll see plenty of differences in the flowers, but there are other difference as well that aren’t seen in these photos. Easiest to remember is that coltsfoot leaves don’t appear until the flowers are about to fade, so if you see leaves it isn’t a coltsfoot. Another difference is, coltsfoot flower stems are very scaly and dandelion flower stems are smooth. Really though, one look at the flowers should tell you all you need to know.

Red maples are still in full swing but that isn’t surprising because blossoming from one tree to the next is staggered, so if we have a freeze not every flower will be killed. I think I first saw male blossoms like these about a month ago.

These female red maple flowers look like they might have been frost nipped, since the tips are blackened here and there. There are still plenty of buds coming along though, so before long we’ll see millions of seeds twirling down to earth.

Just look at all the flowers blossoming on one tree, and there are too many trees to count.

It isn’t hard finding a windy day at this time of year so during a recent blow I went to get a shot of alder catkins blowing in the wind. Just like hazelnut catkins but a bit later, alder catkins begin to lengthen and soften and become supple, and the movement in the above photo shows that. When they form in the fall and all through winter they are about a third the length of what you see here, half the diameter, and quite stiff. I was glad that I came to this particular pond where they grew because I heard the first spring peepers of the year here on this day, April 3rd. Since then, I’ve also heard the quacking of many wood frogs.

In a closer look you can see the bud scales have opened along with some of the male flowers. Flower buds, along with their scales, spiral around a central stalk in in hazelnut and alder catkins, and I believe it is the lengthening of this central stalk that pulls the bud scales apart so they open, much like you would see the coils open if you pulled on a both ends of a spring. There are three tiny yellow/ green flowers beneath each reddish purple bud scale, each with a lobed calyx cup and three to five stamens with anthers covered in yellow pollen. It won’t be long before that pollen is being blown around by the wind.

The willows seemed late to bloom this year but I proved it was only my impatience by checking last year’s blog entry on willows. Last year they bloomed almost the same day that they bloomed this year.

They weren’t quite fully in bloom but they were close. These happen to be male flowers but I didn’t see any shedding pollen yet. Female willow flowers usually blossom not too long after the males. It was a cloudy, cool, and windy day when I saw these but we’ve had several warm ones since so I’d guess they’re now in full bloom. I’ll go back and see today. 

Tiny little ground ivy flowers have appeared. Like many other flowers they sparkle in the sunlight, as if dusted with confectioner’s sugar. Ground ivy can cover large areas if not kept in check. When I was a boy I discovered that when ground ivy was mowed it left a strange, heavy scent or flavor in the back of your throat. Since it’s in the mint family that should have been no surprise. Ground ivy is another plant that was brought over by European settlers because of its medicinal qualities. It is said to be rich in vitamin C and a good appetite stimulant, and was one of the plants used in spring tonic. It is known to be useful in the treatment of digestive disorders like gastritis, acid indigestion and diarrhea and its gentle healing powers meant that it could be used to treat children and the elderly, often in the form of tea. These days it is being studied for use in preventing leukemia, bronchitis, hepatitis, different kinds of cancer, and HIV.

A drift of crocuses at the local college caught my eye, and they caught the eyes of the many bees flying around them too. The various colors blended well, I thought. I wished I could lift the whole thing and plunk it down in may yard. I’m going to have to stop wishing and do something about it this fall when the spring bulbs go on sale.

This was my favorite crocus of the day. It looked like someone had dipped a feather in ink and stroked it delicately along each petal.

The first daffodil I saw was a backlit bicolor. By now there must be hundreds in bloom at the local college.

This beautiful hyacinth was the first I’ve seen. I have trouble getting back up when I get down on my hands and knees these days unless there is something to hang onto, so I wasn’t able to smell its heavenly scent.

The color of this hyacinth was even more beautiful than the first in my opinion, but there was only one of this color. Last year an animal had dug up a lot of the hyacinths in this bed and took a nibble out of each one and left them on the surface of the soil to dry out, but thankfully I haven’t seen that going on this year.

Here was another drift of crocuses with contrasting colors that also worked well. It was a cheery scene.

A magnolia bud was rushing it a bit, I thought. All the others must have decided it would go first, because they were all still closed. If it gets frost bitten that will be too bad because there are beautiful flowers on this tree.

I saw a vernal witch hazel with orange / red flowers, which is something I haven’t seen. Another bush had deep red petals. And the fragrance was really amazing. Witch hazels have such a clean scent, with maybe just a faint hint of spiciness in some of them. It’s a scent that’s hard to describe because nothing else smells like it.

A Cornelian cherry bud is about as big as a standard pea, but when it opens it might have six or seven flowers come out of it, all which are about the size of BBs you would put in an air rifle. They get harder to see every year, and I’d guess that it probably took twenty tries to get this shot. I laughed when I caught myself asking “Was it worth the wait?” because I think I first saw yellow showing in these buds about five weeks ago. Since it lives at the local college and I live about 15 minutes away it’s always an adventure because you never know what you’ll see. This year they bloomed about a week earlier than last year. And yes, I think it was worth the wait.

I don’t know if anyone notices such things but as spring goes on these spring flower posts go slowly from garden flowers to wild flowers. This post is about half and half so it won’t be long before we’ll be seeing mostly wild flowers. Soon will come the violets, elms, bloodroot, box elders and if I’m very lucky, spring beauties. Whatever we see it will be beautiful, because everything is beautiful in spring.

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

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Spring Knocks Louder

This week the temperature reached nearly 60 degrees on three or four days and we also had some rain, and this meant that most of the snow left in a hurry. The ice on vernal pools is melting and I was happy to see this, because places like these is where many spring peeper frogs will sing from. Much life depends on these pools; not only frogs but at least three different salamanders and fairy shrimp rely on them. They also ease the burden of finding a water source for many other animals and birds. They play a very important role in the life of the forest in spring and early summer but by August almost all of them will have dried up.

For those who have never seen one, this is a spring peeper. It is a small tree frog which might reach an inch and a half long on a good day, but its small size doesn’t mean it doesn’t have powerful lungs. Standing beside a pond full of them singing on an April evening can be almost deafening. The easiest way to identify them, if you can even find one in all the leaf litter, is by the X on its back. Some call it a cross but it looks more like an X to me. They can be tan, brown, green, or gray and have round pads on the ends of their fingers and toes. If you’d like to hear them there are videos of them on You Tube, some less than a minute long. They should start singing here any day now.

I looked at red maple buds one day and they hadn’t changed much, but then I went back two days later and saw trees full of flowers. These are male (staminate) flowers, many already laden with pollen.

The sticky red maple female (pistilate) flowers are ready for pollen. It really is amazing how fast this happens. You have to look at them every day to catch the various stages.

Part of my days have included looking at hazelnut buds and I must have looked at hundreds before I found this one in bloom. Each tiny red filament coming out of the bud is a female flower and on this day they were radiant and glowing with an inner light. If everything goes well each tiny flower will become a hazelnut.

For those who haven’t seen hazelnut flowers, here is a photo from a few years ago with a paperclip for scale. They are some of the smallest flowers that I try to photograph and they can be a real challenge.

One very windy day I went to try to get a photo of some male hazelnut catkins and this is the so-so result. It’s not a great shot but it shows that the catkins have loosened up and lost their winter stiffness, and will now move in the wind. This is important, because hazelnuts are wind pollinated. Though the catkins, which are just long strings of male flowers, aren’t releasing pollen yet it won’t be long now. This is what the sticky red female flowers in the previous shot are waiting for.

Alder catkins have started to open up and they’re beautiful as always. All the greenish parts seen here are male flower buds just starting to peek out from under the tiny red /purple bud scales. They are very beautiful the way they sparkle and shine as the wind moves them. They make the bushes look as if someone had strung jewels or lights on them. I haven’t seen any of the very tiny female flowers yet but with this happening it won’t be long.

The willows are filled with furry gray catkins But I haven’t seen any of their yellow flowers yet.

The skunk cabbages, once more released from their cover of snow, sit and wait patiently in their swamp, still leafless. Soon they will hear a signal only they can hear and this swamp will erupt with big green leaves.

A dandelion flower seemed as bright as the sun after a string of cloudy days. Botanically speaking this is a flower head made up of many small ray florets. Each yellow strap shaped petal is actually five petals fused into one, and the five notches at their ends show that. You can see the many tiny ram’s horn shaped stigmas loaded with pollen in this shot. On a dandelion blossom the stigma comes out of a tiny tube formed by the anthers. This plant is calling loudly to the bees.

But the bees are rolling around drunkenly in the crocus blossoms, spilling pollen grains all over their petals. What a life.

The bees didn’t seem to care for these pale yellow crocuses.

Hellebores are also showing their big buds. Interestingly on these plants the buds are prettier than the sickly looking greenish white flowers. That’s just my opinion but there are a lot of them in this city park, as if a nursery donated all the hellebores that didn’t sell. I’m not sure who would buy a dozen or so plants with that color flower and then scatter them here and there.

I was surprised to see scilla up and blooming already at the local college. The plants in my own yard aren’t even showing yet.

These are pretty little flowers but getting a shot looking into one can be challenging. I had to gently bend the stem back with one hand and take this photo with the other. I’m often glad that cameras have built in image stabilization these days.

The cress is flowering madly and if all those flowers are allowed to go to seed, it will do so for years to come.

Cornellian cherries often remind me of a child dipping their toes in the water to decide if they want to go in swimming or not. This bush has been slowly opening its buds and dipping its toes for weeks now so I hope it decides to bloom soon.

The beautiful plum colored reticulated irises are in bloom. At one time the only way to get this color to dye with was by boiling a certain kind of snail for three days, Is it any wonder that the color was reserved for royalty? They were the only ones who could afford it.

A robin wanted to show me that the ground had fully thawed so it hopped my way and pulled out a worm. I’ve seen this countless times but this is the first photo I’ve gotten of it. Mr. Robin had better eat his fill because it won’t be long before he has several more mouths to feed. The trees are filled with female birds that squawk warning cries when you get too close, so I assume they’re nesting.

Listen, can you hear it?  Spring’s sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin’s heart.  Spring!
~Diane Frolov

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Mid April Flowers

On one of my daily walks I passed a house that had a single white crocus coming up in what was once apparently a flower bed. The wide open flower reminded me of a bloodroot flower (Sanguinaria canadensis) so even though I was sure it was too early, I went to where the bloodroots I know of grow and found a single flower there; the earliest I’ve ever seen one bloom. It grows in a group of maybe 25 plants but there wasn’t a sign of any of the others, just this single blossom. Since that day we’ve had some cold nights with frost, so I’m hoping I’ll get to see the others. This plant gets its common name from the bright red sap in its roots, which Native Americans used to decorate their horses with.

Cheery little bluets (Houstonia caerulea) have suddenly popped up in all the lawns. Another name for this plant is Quaker ladies, but I’ve always thought it should have been quaking ladies because all the flowers move in the slightest breeze. I took this photo on a windy day so I was surprised that it came out. What appear to be four petals is actually a single tubular blossom with four lobes.

All the rain we had last summer must have done the willows some good because they’re blooming like I’ve never seen them bloom this year.

Male (shown here) and female willow flowers grow on separate plants. Though willow trees are wind pollinated these willows rely on insects for pollination so there is plenty for the bees to do this year.

Here are the less showy female willow blossoms. If pollinated each flower will become a small yellow, banana shaped seed pod which when ripe will split open and release fluffy seeds to the wind.

Here is a shot of some willow seed pods that I took in 2012. They’re very easily found in summer, but trying to figure out what species of willow you are looking at is far from easy because they cross pollinate so readily. As Henry David Thoreau said “The more I study willows, the more I am confused.”

The pretty flower buds of white ash (Fraxinus americana) are out of the bud and I hope they didn’t get frost bitten. Sometimes these buds are as black as blackberries and other times they’re colored like these were. The Native American Wabanaki tribe made baskets from ash splints and some tribes believed the wood was poisonous to rattlesnakes and used canes made of ash to chase them away.

Male box elder flowers (Acer negundo) are now well out of the bud and their reddish-brown anthers at the ends of long filaments can now blow in the wind and release their pollen. Quick growing, weak box elders are considered “weed trees” that aren’t good for much, not even for fire wood, and many trees throughout the city have been cut down. I was having trouble this year finding a single female tree but I think I’ve finally found one. Male and female flowers bloom on separate trees and I think the lime green flowers on female trees are the prettiest so I always look for them. They begin to show just as the tree’s leaves unfurl. Native Americans must have thought highly of the box elder because the oldest wooden Native American flute ever found was made from its wood.

I haven’t seen any of the female red maple blossoms (Acer rubrum) becoming seeds yet but it’s bound to happen with all of the millions of flowers blossoming in just this small area.

Male red maples are certainly doing their part. Their anthers loaded with pollen, ready for the wind to do its job.

I wanted to see if the sedges were blooming yet so I went to see the plantain leaved sedge (Carex plantaginea,) which is one of the earliest to bloom. I was happy to see that it was full of flowers. I like its crepe paper like leaves, too. They are large for gathering light, so it does well in the shade under trees. The prominent midrib, two lateral veins, maroon bases, and puckered look of the leaves are all used as identifying features for plantain leaved sedge.

The buttery male sedge flowers are the easiest to see, situated as they are at the top of the four-inch stalk, which is called a culm. You can just see the wispy white flowers there behind it. They always appear lower down than the male flowers.

The female flowers are delicate looking, white sticky threads, just waiting the for wind to bring them pollen. They are sublime in their simplicity and they’re one of my favorite things to see in spring.

The deeply pleated, extremely toxic leaves of false hellebore (Veratrum viride) have appeared. They come along between the spring beauties and trout lilies, so are right on time. I was slightly dismayed the other night when a local television show did a piece about a local forager. As the announcer spoke about the forager collecting ramps, the camera showed false hellebore. That was a serious mistake I thought, because eating false hellebore can be deadly.

This photo that I took years ago shows that true ramps, which are a wild onion or leek, bear no resemblance to false hellebore. If you forage for wild plants you would be wise to know them both. The bulbs and leaves of ramps are very strongly flavored with a pungent odor, so a simple sniff would help tell the difference. In some places they are called “The king of stink.” Their usage has been recorded throughout history starting with the ancient Egyptians. They were an important food for Native Americans and later for white settlers as well.

Ohio buckeye (Aesculus glabra) isn’t native to this region as far as I know, but there is one at the local college and I just happened to see its buds breaking. Bud break is defined as “when the green tip of a leaf can be seen emerging from the bud,” but there is often far more to it than that. It’s usually a beautiful thing to witness, and is one of my favorite things about spring. Spring flowers are beautiful, but there is so much more to spring than just the flowers.

Purple trilliums (Trillium erectum) are up and each plant has a single bud that should open in the near future, though I’ve waited a week or more for it to happen in past years. They usually bloom in mid to late April and are one of our largest and most beautiful native wildflowers. This cluster of plants was growing on a boulder.

Even on a gloomy day Forsythia was bright and cheery. Although they’ve become kind of a ho-hum shrub spring would be very different without them in this area. They bloom on any street you care to travel. Some are in hedge form, some are neatly trimmed and others are left natural, as this one was. If you have an embankment that you’re sick of mowing or otherwise dealing with, just plant Forsythia on it. One of the most beautiful spring sights I’ve ever seen was a roadside embankment covered with Forsythias. They were allowed to grow as natural as they wanted, and it was like seeing a yellow waterfall.

Hellebores have come out, just after Easter rather than during Lent. This isn’t my favorite hellebore but since I don’t have any of my own beggars can’t be choosers. This one grows in a local park. I do hope to one day grow some here but there is work to be done first.

There are many varieties of daffodil and I don’t know their name, but these two were tiny; each flower couldn’t have been much over an inch across. I’ve seen the small yellow Tête-à-Tête daffodils and these were probably close to their size but bi-colored.

I know they’re called glory of the snow (Chionodoxa) but our snow is usually long gone before these flowers appear, so I’m not sure where their true glory lies. It doesn’t matter though, because they’re beautiful and I enjoy seeing them each year.

Chionodoxa come in many different colors and are in the asparagus family (Asparagaceae,) along with hyacinths, grape hyacinths, scilla and many other plants.

I stood on the shore of a sea of scilla and watched as the wind made waves, and it was beautiful.

Just after I took this shot of lilac buds a front moved in and the temperature dropped severely before the wind blew and hail fell. Normally I would say something like here is a taste of what’s to come, but now I’m not so sure. I hope they and all of the other flowers made it through the cold and I hope to be able to show them to you in the near future.

In every man’s heart there is a secret nerve that answers to the vibrations of beauty. ~Christopher Morley

Thanks for coming by.

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