Fall Color

The trees have transformed themselves with blazing color almost overnight this year, and the leaf peepers are here to see them. “Leaf peeper” is what all the tourists who come to see the fall colors are called. For about a month millions of them come and swell the population of the state to twice its size, and they are loved by the people who live here. They stand in awe of the colors with looks of amazement and wonder on their faces and we locals stand right there beside them with the same look on our faces, because no matter how many times we’ve seen this it’s still amazingly beautiful. It’s like being inside a kaleidoscope.

This year I thought I’d take you on a popular leaf peeper mini tour, heading east out of Keene on Rte. 101. There are lots of maple trees along this stretch and maples usually turn earlier than most other trees. Red maples especially have a wide color range and can be yellow, orange, red and sometimes even pink. This shot shows the Branch River on the way to Marlboro on a recent cloudy day. It’s one of my favorite stops to see early color. By the time the oaks and beeches come ablaze most of the trees here in this view have dropped their leaves.

Another thing I sometimes do in these fall color posts is take two shots of the same scene; one under cloudy skies and one in full sunshine. I do this because I’ve always thought that the colors were richer and more vibrant on cloudy days but to be honest that could simply be my eye trouble, because there are lots of people who think brilliant sunshine best shows the colors. It doesn’t matter because it’s all beautiful, but I’ve put some of both sunny and cloudy skies in here and there and I’ll let you decide.

On Rte. 101 in Marlboro as you’re traveling towards Dublin there is a cow pasture on the right and you can often see a line of cars parked alongside the road. The hillside on the other side of the pasture is the reason why, as you can see. It’s one of the most colorful and beautiful places to see along this road in the fall.  

Leaving Marlboro and into Dublin is Howe Reservoir, where can be seen more beautiful color from maples. I went twice, once on a cloudy day which is seen above and once on a sunny day. Again, I think the colors “pop” more on cloudy days but one drawback at this particular spot is that clouds will often obscure the view of Mount Monadnock.

This is essentially a continuation of the previous shot, followed to the right. There are beautiful colors here this year.

Here is a view of Mount Monadnock from Howe Reservoir that I spoke of, taken in full sunshine. Once again, I’ll let you decide what you like best.

Here is a red maple that stands just at the edge of Howe Reservoir. In the fall red maples aren’t always red.

I took a left turn onto Rte. 137 in Dublin, heading for Hancock, and stopped at Half Moon Pond where I discovered that the view was very different from this spot than it used to be in the morning before work. At 6:30 am the sun is just coming up over the hills that were behind me, and it falls on the strip of colorful trees there at the edge of the water and lights them up as if they were on fire. I used to stop almost every morning at dawn just to see it happening. On this day the deep colors were bleached out by the bright sunshine. Two geese quickly swam away, apparently upset that I interrupted them. I’ve seen and heard geese flying overhead in formation as well.

There was color along the Nubanusit River in Hancock. This is another stop that I used to sometimes make in the morning.

I used to also drive by this tree every morning, so I could watch it go from hints of color to color on every leaf; another fine example of a red maple in the fall. Without red maples this would be a very different landscape, especially at this time of year. Old timers call these trees “swamp maples” but if you look for that name in a tree identification guide you won’t find it.

From here you can go through the small town of Hancock and return to Keene by way of Rte. 9 south, or you can go back the way we came. Either way it really doesn’t matter because there is glorious color everywhere, along all roads. The big difference between routes is how many places you can stop and get out of the car. I think the way we came on Rte. 101 has more opportunities for doing so.

I thought we could take a rest from the road for a bit and look at few other things that are part of fall in this part of the world, like this beautiful fragrant white waterlily leaf. I loved it for its beautiful color and its veining. It was one leaf on a plant with many leaves and all were green except this one, which dared to be different.

And this will most likely be the last fragrant white waterlily bloom we’ll see until next spring. I took the photo about three weeks ago, I think.

Poison ivy is beautifully red this year. You might want to touch it or pick a few leaves to dry or press, but you might want to think that over because unless you’re immune to its toxins you’ll itch like mad for a week or two. Once it’s on your hands it can spread to other parts of the body and before you know it you have it all over you. The old saying leaves of three, let them be, is true.

Growing up out of the large bed of poison ivy was a Solomon’s seal plant with fruit dangling under the leaves. I’ve tried and tried to get a shot of the berries for years without much satisfaction but this year I decided to use my cell phone and the shot I got with it is what you see here. Very carefully, without touching any leaves, I reached up and over the poison ivy, and I haven’t itched at all.

I stopped to see the asters that grow in a local park one day and I think I saw as many bees as I did flowers. We hear a lot of bad news about bees and I can’t say whether it is right or wrong, but I do know that I’ve seen more bees this summer than I can ever remember seeing. If you look closely you’ll see them in this photo. Honeybees, I believe.

Here is a close look at one of those bees. I wanted to show you the open (true) flowers of a daisy and along came this accommodating bee to show you how they worked. This is a Montauk daisy which also grows in the park, and which was originally developed in Japan. For that reason it is also called the Nippon daisy. It is like a Shasta daisy on steroids and is very hardy. I saw them blooming in a snowstorm one year in late fall.

I went to Robin Hood Park in Keene and just as I got to the trail entrance I saw this sign. Attack owl or not I would follow this trail. As I walked along I could hear the flapping of wings, as if a bird sat in a tree above and was flapping its wings, but I never saw the source of the sound and I never saw an owl.

I wanted to follow the trail because lots of maple leaved viburnums grow here, and they’re beautiful at this time of year. They come in a wide range of colors and these examples were a kind of orangey pink.

And these were a deep purple, which is my favorite. If you’re looking for a native shrub that will attract birds and other wildlife and put on a good show in the fall, you might want to consider maple leaved viburnums. They’re a “plant it and forget it” shrub that ask for nothing except an hour or two of sunlight. Here at the park they grow in the shade of old white pines, maples, and oaks.

The next day was cloudy, so I visited the Army Corps of Engineer’s Dam in Surry for this view of one of the hillsides that was blasted during the dam’s construction. It was too dim on this overcast evening for the Canon camera that I often use for landscapes so I used one of the cell phone cameras, which do better in low light. It was the evening light that was important because in this light the color of the stone changes from ash gray to the beautiful blue gray color seen here. The contrast between the blue of the stone and the many colored shrubs / trees is beautiful and I could have stood here enjoying the scene for much longer if the sun hadn’t been going down. It’s one of my favorite places to come in the fall because it speaks of the beauty that can be found in wilderness. Or what was once wilderness; if you somehow tumbled down this slope today you’d end up in the dam’s spillway, so let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. If memory serves me correctly some teenagers climbed the safety fences one day and had to be rescued from this slope.

Surry dam dams up the Ashuelot river enough to create Ashuelot Lake behind it, but what trickles through is once again called the Ashuelot River, seen here just after it leaves the dam and begins its run through Bretwood golf course.

I headed south from Surry and once again ended up back in Keene, where I stopped at the Ashuelot River again. Following the trail through Ashuelot Park that winds alongside the river, I came upon this scene. As you could see there was a cloudless sky and it was too bad I thought, that the sun shined so brightly.

I was surprised to see an arrowwood viburnum still full of berries. The birds usually strip them of the pretty berries as soon as they ripen.

I went to a spot where many cinnamon ferns grow to see if they had turned pumpkin orange yet. They had, and they were beautiful.

I remembered that I hadn’t gone up to Beaver Brook natural area in Keene to see the only examples of blue stemmed goldenrod, so I went there to see it. The only trouble was, its stems weren’t blue. The blue color comes from the same naturally occurring wax crystals that cause the “bloom” on plums, blueberries and many other things found in nature. A lot of heat can melt them and a lot of rain can wash them away, and we’ve had both. If you look closely though you can see a hint of a blue stem running just over the leaf litter under this flowering stem.

Beaver brook was as beautiful as ever, and I knew I’d have to come back when I had time to walk the full length of the road. There are lots of oaks and beeches here and as I’ve said elsewhere in this post, they’re beautiful trees in the fall.

So you’ve seen the slice of fall color in the south western corner of New Hampshire for this week but we’re just getting started, so there will be plenty more to see.

Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. ~Oscar Wilde

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By a Pond

You might think I’m trying to flood you out with so many watery posts lately but the truth is where there is water there is life, and even when I don’t show it in a post I’m never far from it. This place, a pond in Marlborough New Hampshire, is special because it is about as close as you can get to true wilderness. It’s a place you come to listen rather that speak; a place you come to when you want to be taught by nature. It is also special because of the many unusual plants that grow here. None of them are truly rare but some are hard to find and / or get close to. That means that the things you’re about to see in this post aren’t the kinds of things you’ll find just kicking around on the side of the road.

One of the plants that is often hard to find, and especially hard to get close to, is wild calla or water arum because as its name suggests it is a true aquatic and grows in water. Here though, there are large areas of sphagnum peat moss that grow out into the pond from shore, so if you’re careful you can get close to the plants without getting too wet.

I’ve found this plant in just three places, and this is the only time I’ve been able to get this close to it. It is an arum like skunk cabbage or Jack in the pulpit but unlike those plants water arum has a spadix that is easily seen. The spadix is the club shaped part that carries the tiny white flowers seen here. Arums have a spathe as well as a spadix and in this case the spathe is the white leaf like part. The flowers will be followed by green berries that will eventually turn bright red. An odd fact about this plant is how its flowers are pollinated by water snails passing over the spadix. It is thought that small flies and midges also help with pollination, because the odor from the tiny blossoms is said to be something that a fly might like.

There was a time I would have walked across this fallen tree without hesitation but these days I know I’d better just stay on the trail so I skipped it and went around. You can see all the wild callas growing down there. They were why I wanted to find a quick way down.

As I was sliding down the hill to get to the wild callas I passed a good stand of bunchberry still in bloom. I didn’t see them at the time but I can see in the photo that many of the flowers had already formed berries, so maybe this year I’ll be able to show you the bunches of red berries that give the plant its name. This is just about the biggest colony of bunchberries I’ve seen. They seem to love the mossy hillside.

I’ve never seen so many painted trilliums growing in one spot before and I was happy about that because it’s my favorite of the three that grow in this area.

Many of the trilliums had been pollinated and were showing seed pods, which I was also happy to see. They’ll turn bright red as they ripen. As far as I know painted trilliums are the only one of the three that have a seed pod that stands up on a stem as this one does. Red trillium seed pods are sessile (sit right on) the leaves without a stem and nodding trillium seed pods hang under the leaves, just as the flowers do.

I’ve never seen so many goldthread plants growing in one place either. They’re the ones with three very shiny leaves. Their small white flowers passed about a month ago. The other plants in this shot are Indian cucumber root seedlings.

And here is an Indian cucumber root plant fully grown and flowering. I saw lots of them here as well. In fact everything here seemed to be thriving. These plants grow in two tiers of whorled leaves and the unusual flowers hang under the upper tier of leaves as can be seen here. If you don’t understand how whorled leaves work the lower tier of leaves seen here shows a perfect example of a whorl. The plant gets its name from the small white root, which has the shape and flavor of cucumber. Native Americans used Indian cucumber roots as food.

The unusual flowers of Indian cucumber root have 6 yellowish green tepals, 6 reddish stamens topped by greenish anthers, and 3 reddish purple to brown styles. These large styles are sometimes bright red- brown. Each flower will become a shiny, inedible dark purplish black berry. These plants like to grow under trees in dappled light, probably getting no more than an hour or two of direct sunlight each day.

Hobblebush isn’t normally a ground hugging shrub unless there are deer in the area. Since every plant I saw looked like this one I’d guess that there are a lot of deer (or maybe moose) here. Every plant had been pruned back so hard they looked like vines.

It looked like whatever was eating the plants was also eating the unripe green fruit. These berries will ripen to red and then purple black if they are left alone.

A dead pine rose up out of the water like the skeleton of some ancient beast. It was interesting to see how all the limbs had grown mostly on one side, which was the side that received the most sunlight. Sunlight is also heat and heat falling on the trunk stimulates cell growth. If the back side of the tree is in the shade the tree “knows” that there is no point in growing branches on that side because they won’t receive any light and will just die off. Since a tree is all about turning sunlight into food, it’s going to grow all of its photosynthesizing leaves or needles where the sunlight is. If you walk around a pond or even a clearing in the forest you’ll see a lot of one sided trees.

Some plants can tolerate more shade because they have larger leaf surfaces. More leaf surface means they can gather more light. The hobblebushes we saw earlier are like that and so are the pretty little blue bead lilies seen here. But nothing, not even mushrooms, can grow in the dark, so even plants that grow in deep woods will get an hour or two of sunlight each day. That’s why, when I see a sunbeam shining on a spot in a forest I always go to where it falls to see what plants or mushrooms are growing in its light. There were lots of blue bead lilies spotted here and there throughout these woods, and that told me if I sat there and watched long enough I’d see sunlight falling on each spot. These plants are named for their beautiful electric blue berries that will follow the flowers.

This pond has a small earthen dam that controls its outflow and in the outflow stream were many native blue flag irises. They and all of the flowers here seem to be having an extended bloom. Possibly because of the two or three cool, damp days we seem to have each week.

There must have been a hatching of chalk white corporal dragonflies just before I came, because there seemed to be hundreds of them flying around. Some would rest as this one did, on stones or plants, but not for long. I never knew how aggressive these dragonflies were until I saw them chasing off beautiful blue slaty skimmers, which I’d like to get a photo of. Things will calm down after a while and the chalk whites will start to fade away so the slaty skimmers and others can have their turn in the spotlight, and then maybe I’ll get a shot or two of them.

The big red “cinnamon sticks” that give cinnamon fern its name have appeared.

Of course, this has nothing to do with cinnamon. What someone thought looked like a cinnamon stick is actually the fern’s fertile frond, and if you click on this photo and look closely you’ll find that it’s covered with many thousands of tiny, spherical, spore bearing sporangia. You’ll also find that I was a bit late because most had already opened and released their spores to the wind. These spore cases are so small the only thing I can think of to compare them to is the head of a common pin. There aren’t many cameras that I know of that can get a photo of them, so what you see here isn’t something you’ll see very often.

I suppose I’ve always kept my eyes on the ground because for me, that’s where the most fascinating things were. Since I didn’t “do” birds when I was young there was no real point in looking up at tree branches so instead I admired their roots. Some tree roots on well-traveled trails come with a story, or more accurately a question, like how many thousands of footsteps does it take to sand one down until it looks like a craftsman has taken it to his shop and made it as beautiful as it can be, and then put it back again?

There are a few lichens also growing here. This one is either pink earth lichen or bubblegum lichen, I’m not sure which. Both have what look like tiny balls of pink dough stuck on a match stick, but on bubblegum lichen the length of the stalks that the plump pink apothecia sit on are longer than they are on pink earth lichens. Both are rarely seen in this area but when I do see them they seem to always be growing near blueberries and sweet fern, as these were. I look for the whitish crusty thallus or body of the lichen, which grows on the soil surface; usually in dry, sandy places. They seem to prefer undisturbed ground in full sun.

Being in a place like this shows you how much you can learn from nature if you let nature lead. And it will lead; before you move on from what you’ve been looking at, just look around. You’ll almost always find that, from where you stand you can see all sorts of interesting things to go and see next. There is no need for a plan. Just let nature lead you from one beautiful and / or interesting thing to the next just as a child would, and you’ll see things you hadn’t even imagined. On this day I originally went to the pond planning to spend 15 minutes or so checking to see if the sheep laurel were blooming. They weren’t in bloom that first day but the place was so peaceful and filled with interest, I ended up staying for most of the day.

When you gaze out on a quiet, peaceful meadow, next to a still pond, under a motionless blue sky, you wonder how the noisy, busy cacophony of life could have arisen from such silent, motionless beginning. ~Anonymous

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More Fall Color

Since the last fall foliage post I did I’ve been chasing color, and that isn’t always easy for a colorblind person. I’ve also been chasing light. The past three weekends I think, have been cloudy, and since the only real large blocks of time I have fall on weekends you’ll see what our fall colors look like when it’s sunny and cloudy. But sunshine or clouds these colors are always beautiful, as one of my favorite scenes shows in this photo of birches and maples growing on ledges up in Surry. I built an extensive model H.O. train layout when I was a boy with tunneled mountains I crafted out of plaster. They had small lichen “trees” growing on them and that’s what this scene always reminds me of. Though these are full size trees they look like toys.

And the big difference is, these views are much more beautiful than any you’ll ever find in a model train layout.

Also in Surry is this scene, which always makes me wish I could somehow transport all of you here so you could smell as well as see autumn in New England. The fragrance of all those leaves drying in the sun is sugary sweet and earthy at the same time. Kind of like apple pie, molasses, compost and woodsmoke all rolled into one scent. That scent immediately takes me back to boyhood, when I scuffed my way through the fallen leaves on my way to school each day. Going off to second grade is the strongest memory that comes to mind for some reason, and it is all held there in that wonderful smell.

Staghorn Sumac leaves give us bright reds, purples and oranges and they will often hang onto their color even into death. These leaves were totally limp and the way they hung on the branch made me think of laundry drying on the line.

But you’ll find that most of the color in this post comes from maples. Red maples mostly, because they have the greatest color range. As this shot shows, they are glorious when at their peak of color.

All of the tree color seen in this view of Halfmoon Pond in Hancock is on maples, and by the time you read this all of those leaves will have fallen. My blogging friend Susan likes reflections and this photo is probably the best one for those. October is a windy month but if you get up early enough you can often find water just as smooth as glass.

This was also taken at Halfmoon Pond, with reflections that are a little fuzzier. The wind starts to kick up at about mid-morning.

I stopped at a local post office one morning just after dawn and saw this scene, which I took with my phone. It was still cool enough for mist to be in the field behind the garden shed.

Along the Branch River is always a good place to find fall colors and, since I drive by it twice each day, I can usually get a photo of it in full sunshine.

But it was hard to get good sunshine shots this year and most of them looked more like this one. I’m putting this in to see what you like best. I’ve always thought that fall colors had more “pop” on overcast days but I know a lot of people who would rather go leaf looking on a sunny day.

The Ashuelot River North of Keene is another favorite spot of mine to see fall color. The soft, pale yellows of the silver maples give the eyes and mind a bit of a rest after the loud reds and oranges of their cousins the red maples. The silver maples don’t shout, they whisper in hushed tones.

Red maples certainly do shout, and here are a few more now. This has to be one of the most photographed spots in the entire county. I often see a line of cars here on my way home from work, and sometimes I join them.

I took this shot of what is essentially the same scene with my phone, which has HDR and RAW and all of that if you turn it on. I turned it on and found that it was too “something” that I can’t quite put my finger on. Maybe harsh is the word. The color reproduction is good I think, but everything seems to have an edge to it. I’d be interested in hearing what you think. Should I turn it off again? I’m not sure there is a way to tone it down. It seems on or off is the only option.

Here is a closer look at the hillside with my regular camera. Notice all the bare trees. Already.

Here is another look, just for colors. It’s no wonder this is such a popular spot. Millions of people come here from all over the world each year to see scenes like this. Many just can’t believe such colors can be true until they see it for themselves. They stand and they gawk, lost in the beauty, and we stand and gawk right alongside them because no matter how many times you’ve seen it, it always seems like this is the most beautiful fall color ever.

Here is a beautiful example of a red maple that grows near my house.

Here’s a close look at a small red maple, the star of this post.

But red maples aren’t always colored red in the fall. They can be orange and yellow as well. I think this is actually a sugar maple, which are also yellow.

This is a cluster of colorful trees where I work. I’m going to spend a while cleaning up fallen leaves, I think.

Howe Reservoir in Marlborogh is usually a great place to get reflection shots but every single time I stopped there the wind was blowing, so I had no luck with that. I even went there before sunup one day and sat there waiting but the wind blew then too. Oh well, the trees were certainly beautiful.

That’s Mount Monadnock in the background. Or its flank anyway.

That is the mountain’s summit, taken on a very cloudy and dismal day. But it is this spot in clouds that makes me say that the colors often pop more on cloudy days.

These are all maples and they’re all bare now, so I’m glad I got there when I did. Sometimes an incredible amount of leaf drop can happen overnight so if you wait until “just the right time” you might find that you’ve waited too long. I’ve made that mistake more than once.

The blueberries, both high and low bush, are beautiful this year as they almost always are. They can vary from purple to orange but I usually see mostly red. For a plant that produces blue fruit blueberry shrubs have a lot of red in them.

An ash tree where I work was just beautiful in the early morning sunshine. Ash trees also have quite a color range, from lemon yellow to plum purple.

I’ve been either too early or too late to catch Virginia creeper in all its scarlet glory this year but this one had some color.

On the left is an oak and on the right a beech, and seeing these trees changing together reminds me that it’s time to get to Willard Pond in Hancock to see one of the most beautiful displays of an atumnal hardwood forest that I know of. It’s all oaks and beeches so I hope it will be this scene multiplied and amplified.

Nature is so powerful, so strong. Capturing its essence is not easy – your work becomes a dance with light and the weather. It takes you to a place within yourself. ~Annie Leibovitz

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