Now that fall is almost here we’re having some summer weather so I’m getting out more. I went to where I used to work in Hancock recently and one of the first things I stopped to admire was this view of Half Moon Pond. For seven years I started each work day standing in this spot, looking out over the pond and drinking in the quiet. Since I grew up awash in quiet that part of the job was a perfect fit from the first day. The experience was a unique one for me though, because working so close to the pond meant I could watch all of its changes as they happend. It reinforced what I’d had an inkling of as a boy growing up along the Ashuelot River; life is a circle and from hour to hour, day to day, and year to year it is in a state of constant change, like a great wheel slowly turning. Following that lead you discover something that is unchanging, and it is found inside us all.
As I was leaving Hancock I saw a small stream with its banks full of flowers of all kinds. There were white asters, pink Joe Pye weed, purple loosestrife, white boneset, and yellow goldenrod growing there. It was a natural garden; a beautiful spot.
There were flowers everywhere, like a roadside Monet painting. Who needs riches when we have places like this? We are already rich, but most of us don’t see it.
I didn’t see any purple asters there but I am starting to see them in other places.
I’m also starting to see monarch butterflies, but not here in Keene. This one was in Hancock, probing for nutrients in a gravel road. There seem to be few to none in Keene this year.
I also saw a white admiral that day, looking a bit tired. In fact I thought it might have died but it slowly lifted its wings when I moved closer so I knew it was alive. I took a couple of shots and moved away to let it rest.
The clear white flowers of arrowhead have appeared. Each one of these had tiny flea like black insects on it but since they grew just offshore I couldn’t get close enough to see what they were. The centers of the flowers look like little clown noses.
There are plenty of great spangled fritillary butterflies in Keene. They love Joe Pye weed, and we have lots of it.
Great Spangled fritillaries look to be about the same size as monarchs, but I find them to be much more approachable. This one let me get quite close. I thought of trying a shot or two with my phone but I decided I might scare it away.
I was able to get a shot of this one’s eyes but when I got home and saw that they were an orangey-reddish color I was surprised, because I have other shots of them with blue eyes.
In this shot I took on Pitcher Mountain years ago this fritillary butterfly’s eyes are obviously blue. Why would one have blue eyes and the other red? According to Butterflies of the Adirondacks “The Atlantis Fritillary has blue-green or greyish blue eyes, while both the Great Spangled Fritillary and the Aphrodite Fritillary have amber to yellow-green eyes.” So the blue eyed one shown here is an Atlantis fritillary and the other in the previous shot isn’t. I obviously saw amber eyes as red so I’m going to stop there, because according to Butterflies and Moths of North America the other differences between the butterflies are slight, as in shading of certain colors and slight variations in markings. For me it’s their eyes that tell the story so from now on I’ll just look them in the eye, tell them how beautiful they are, and let it be.
I wasn’t going to say anything but I thought you should know. As I’ve said before, fall starts on the forest floor and this hobblebush shows it.
This young white ash tells me that fall is creeping up into the understory.
I stopped at the Ashuelot Falls one evening to see if the light had turned them to gold. It had, but there were other things going on as well.
A heron fished below the falls. It had spotted something and as I watched it caught what I think was a small frog. Down it went with a flip and a gulp. Canon bridge cameras are notoriously inefficient in low light and though the light was really too poor to be taking photos, I tried anyway.
When I saw this over my shoulder I decided to leave the heron to its hunting. It was a good thing too, because as I got to the car those extra-large raindrops that make a loud splat! started falling.
On another evening I tried a blue vervain plant in low light. I loved the way the small blue flowers glowed with a light that was more in them than on them. They were so beautifully blue; truly the center of attention, but though they took center stage it was the light that put them there. Sometimes it is the quality of light more than what it falls on that can stop us in our tracks.
I forgot to look for the flowers of white baneberry this past spring but I remembered to look for the plant’s berries this year. White berries at the ends of pink pedicels are hard to miss. They’re called “doll’s eyes” for obvious reasons and they’re very toxic. They’re also very bitter, which makes it doubtful that anyone would eat enough to be harmed by them. These plants are having a good year.
Tansy is just coming into bloom and before long each flower head, shown as a disc shape in this view, will grow into a fluffy mound of tiny blooms. The aromatic leaves were once used to repel insects like bedbugs, and it was brought to this country by the first settlers for that reason, as well as for its medicinal uses.
Some turtlehead plants are covered in mildew, and that is no surprise considering all the rain and humidity we’re having. In a garden mildew usually means poor air circulation and not enough direct sunlight. Both are conditions that can often be remedied my moving the affected plant or by creating more “breathing” space around it by moving any plants that might be crowding it.
Garden phlox is a plant that is often very susceptible to mildew but I haven’t seen any yet this season. This one was very pretty, I thought.
Here was another pretty phlox that was mildew free. The plant is also called “tall phlox” and many varieties are very fragrant. I think plant breeders have also bred them for mildew resistance over the years.
Pretty little blue toadflax is still blooming and probably will into October. One story says that the “toad” part of the name comes from the way the flower opens like a toad’s mouth when each side is pressed with the fingers. I’ve done this with yellow toadflax and it is true but with the tiny flowers of the blue, I’m not sure. Another story says that toads took refuge among the branches, but I haven’t seen many yellow or blue toadflax with branches.
If I had to offer advice to those who are just starting out in gardening it would be to beware of friends bearing plant gifts. Oh, they mean well enough; they have more of this plant than they can use so they might as well share. Right there is where you should stop and ask yourself why they have so much of this plant. Is it aggressive? Will it take over my garden? If it is an obedient plant the answer to these questions is YES. Obedient plants get their common name from the way the flower stalks stay where they are bent for a short time, so in this way they are “obedient.” The name does not come from the way the plants stay in one place. No, they are a native member of the mint family and they can act just like an invasive and take over a garden. The solution is, if you’re given a plant you don’t know anything about, plant it off by itself somewhere where it can’t overrun other plants. Just let it be and watch it for a year or so, and when you are satisfied that it doesn’t want to rule the world, move it into the garden.
Though the native obedient plant is everything I’ve said above plant breeders have been working on it, and I just read about a cultivar called “Miss manners” which is said to form upright clumps that don’t spread. It sounds truly obedient and would be a great addition to the garden if it was. The snapdragon-like flowers are very beautiful and they attract plenty of bees. Obedient plants grow naturally along riverbanks from Canada South to Virginia and west to Texas, but I’ve never seen one in the wild. Plants I’ve grown in the garden never seemed to need any extra watering as you would expect a riverside plant would.
Every beauty which is seen here by persons of perception resembles more than anything else that celestial source from which we all come. ~Michelangelo
I’ve been waiting for the Ashuelot River to return to normal levels so I could visit the forest I used to spend a lot of time in as a boy. It’s a beautiful place on land now owned by the local college, and they’ve mowed a trail through it. The trail runs very close to the river and that’s what the fence posts seen in this shot are for; to warn people that the river is right there, just feet away. It’s hard to tell due to all the growth but I learned years ago that there are otter slides and muskrat tunnels and sink holes that are easily fallen into. I stayed on the trail and in all the time I spent here I saw only an occasional glimpse of the river. I was too busy enjoying the beauty of the place.
When I was a boy there were no mowed trails here so my friends and I just found our own way through the woods, using game trails or other natural pathways. There have always been lots of birds and animals here and now the land is a designated wildlife management area. Since it floods badly when the river is high it really couldn’t be used for anything else. Though the sign points to wildlife “management” I think the management consists of letting the wildlife just be and do as it will.
I immediately started seeing insects when I got here, including this ebony jewelwing damselfly. They like to hunt around forested streams. There is also a river jewelwing which hunts riverbanks but I didn’t see one of those. There was certainly plenty for it to eat here. Never in my life have I seen swarms of mosquitoes like I did here. Even with bug spray on they got me. All the rain and flooding this year has led to a perfect storm of them and when you meet someone on a trail that’s all they talk about.
What I think might be a cloudless sulfur butterfly sat on a leaf, looking a bit like a leaf itself. It also looked as if it was having antennae problems. There are also clouded sulfurs, but they have black edging on their wingtips.
I saw what seemed to be very early New England asters in bloom. Many of the asters that grow here have the deepest colored purple flowers that are my favorites, but I don’t usually start looking for them until the end of September.
An eastern cottontail warmed itself in the morning sunshine. It let me have a few photos and then hopped off into the tall grass. I felt sorry to have disturbed its peace.
Something that surprised me was finding marsh bellflowers here. This is only the second place I’ve seen these small flowers, each time very near the river. I’m not surprised that they would like it here in this wet ground.
I found a Japanese beetle on a hedge bindweed blossom. As I pointed the camera at it, it reared up on its hind legs in challenge. “This is my flower,” it said. By the end of the day the blossom had most likely been chewed full of holes.
The trail closes in a bit in places and that’s because the river is close on one side and old silver maples crowd in on the other. Most of the trees here are silver maples with a few red maples. They’re the only trees that can stand the almost yearly flooding. In many places all the undergrowth had been flattened by the flood water but it wasn’t too bad right here.
This tall grass was very beautiful caught in a sunbeam like it was. I think it is tall woodreed, which is a grass that likes shaded, boggy places. It must have been about six feet tall and it stopped me in my tracks. All the gray in the background is caused by plants that were under water not long ago. The rain hadn’t washed the silt off them yet.
What I think might be a hairy footed flower bee sat on a leaf. These solitary bees are said to be the first to emerge in spring and like to visit pulmonaria flowers, which are some of the earliest to appear. They are native to Europe and North Africa, but have been introduced into Canada and the U.S. This is the only one I’ve seen.
This was another unusual bee because it was as big as the end of my thumb; easily the biggest bee I’ve seen. I think it must be some type of carpenter bee but I’m not sure.
Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius once recommended that we “Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.” That was just what I was doing here; a universe full of Stellaria pubera, the star chickweed, bloomed all along the trail and into the woods.
Woodland sunflowers, which had apparently been flattened by rain, were starting to lift up their heads.
I think there were more tall blue lettuce plants out here than I’ve ever seen in a single place. They like a bit of shade and wet ground to do their best, and they find both here. The flowers, each about the size of a pencil eraser, have leaned more toward white than blue this year.
For the first time I was able to get a fairly good photo of tall blue lettuce that shows where the “tall” in the name comes from. The undergrowth was about six feet tall and these plants soared many feet above it. I’d guess they were at leat twelve feet tall. It seems odd that such small flowers would appear on such a tall plant.
River silt, as fine as talcum powder, covered the trail where it had flooded, and then dried and cracked. When I see silt like this I always think about how many thousands of years it must have taken to build up the rich farmlands that are almost always found along our rivers.
This place has always been a source of wonder and as I walked along I thought of how lucky I was to spend my boyhood in such a beautiful place. Bordered by the railroad tracks I walked almost every day, it was an easy place to get to and I spent a lot of time exploring and learning from nature here. Anything a boy could want in nature I found here but I’ve always thought my friends and I came mostly because we simply loved the place. Even after all these years it’s still an easy place to love and now with the mowed trails, it’s even more beautiful than it used to be. I’ve never forgotten the silence, natural beauty, and freedom that I experienced here. It all led to a lifelong love of life.
Tall asters weren’t so tall after the rain was done with them. This one could barely lift its head out of the ferns, and it should be six feet tall.
Broom sedge isn’t a plant I see a lot of but there were large colonies of them here so they must like moist ground. I like its bristly, reddish seed heads.
Goldenrod glowed in the bright sunshine. There has always been goldenrod here for as far back as memory will take me, and it has always been beautiful. One thing I thought of that is lacking here these days are the big black and yellow spiders that used to be here. I used to love watching them but I haven’t seen one in a long time.
I spent parts of two different days here. On the first day it was so windy everything was thrashing around and branches were falling off the trees but it kept the bugs away. This little pearl crescent (I think) butterfly hung on with all it had as the goldenrod it clung to thrashed back and forth in the wind gusts. It took quite a few tries to get this not so great shot. Every time the wind would stop I’d bring the camera up, ready to get the shot, but as soon as I clicked the shutter it would start in again. I spent a lot of time just standing and waiting, using the patience the great blue herons taught me.
On the second day when the winds had calmed down I noticed that many of the thistles that live here had gone to seed and thistle down floated in the air. Since thistle seeds are a favorite of gold finches I thought I’d better walk over to the place where I usually find them.
I wasn’t disappointed; the beautiful little birds were here as they are every year, enjoying the fruits of the bull or spear thistles. I never noticed how their black forehead “hair” fell down over their eyes like it does. This one is a breeding male. The bad boy look must help him attract females.
He wasn’t going to waste time watching me watch him; he dug right in and the thistle down was flying. I’ve also watched them pull garden zinnias apart, throwing petals everywhere to get at the seeds. They also go for evening primrose and any other small seeded plantss. According to the Cornell School of Ornithology their natural habitats are weedy fields and floodplains, so it makes perfect sense that they would come here every year.
He who does not become familiar with nature through love will never know her. ~Friedrich Von Schlegel
Well, I’ve finally had to buy a new camera. If a camera can survive hanging around my neck in the woods for 4-5 years it’s a tough camera, and the two Cannon PowerShot SX-40s I’ve used for several years performed admirably. But I’ve worn out both of them, so this time I went with the Cannon PowerShot SX-70. These cameras are “bridge cameras,” so called because they bridge the gap between a DSLR and a Point and shoot. This one has a 65X optical zoom with a 20.3 Megapixel CMOS sensor and DIGIC 8 Image processor. In my style of nature study I can’t be carrying a bag full of heavy lenses with me while I crawl around on the forest floor. I want to be ready for anything at any time, and this camera has the finesse it takes for shots of insects as well as the reach it takes for shots of animals. My line of thought is, since I don’t “do” birds I don’t need the great reach of a $5,000.00, 600 mm lens but as you will see in this post, I was going to do birds. Or more accurately, birds were going to do me.
This is the first “blog worthy” shot I took with the new camera: a female wood duck. This encounter was strange, since wood ducks don’t usually sit still and let me take photos. They swim or fly away at top speed. Or they used to anyway. This one just sat on its tiny island and let me move as close as I could and I was happy that it did, because it’s only the second shot I’ve gotten of a wood duck. I love their chubby little cheeks and their beautiful colors. Though the females are pretty the males are amazing, and I hope to get a photo of one of them someday.
I was back in the wetlands when I saw the wood duck. This is a shot I took a while ago with my old Cannon SX-40. I like its dreamy, impressionistic appearance but you don’t always want dreamy and impressionistic; sometimes you want sharp. In any event this place has become one of my favorite places because you just never know what you’ll see here. There are often whitetail deer out there in the distance.
People had told me that there were bitterns here in the wetlands. Bitterns are rarely seen birds and I had no idea what they looked like, so I came home and read about them. What stayed in my mind most of all was how they had stripes and a long neck, so when I saw this bird I thought it was a bittern. I was confused though because it wasn’t a bittern at all, it was a juvenile green heron. I had seen exactly one green heron before and it was an adult in such deep shade my camera couldn’t even find it, so experience didn’t help.
Here is what I believe is a more adult looking green heron with some traces of juvenile color still left on it. At one point there were 5 of these birds in different stages of maturity in this one place and by the time they had all flown away I was confused enough to have not really known what I had seen. So it was back home to do more reading. Green herons are much smaller than great blue herons; just slightly bigger than a crow I think, but like their cousins they can spend quite a bit of time playing statue. If you don’t scare them off like I did, that is.
After all that I felt that I’d had enough of birds for a while but no, here was the World’s Cutest Duck sitting on a log one evening. I took a few shots of it and then, sure it would fly away, I went on looking for other interesting things. This duck was on one side of a tiny pond and I was on the other side. I walked by it several times but it just sat and smiled; the very picture of serenity. The birds I kept running into weren’t behaving like I thought they would and I wondered if maybe this little duck was sick. It was small enough to hold in two cupped hands and cute enough to melt your heart but all I could do was wish it a peaceful night ahead. I still haven’t been able to identify it as anything but a tiny duck.
One of the things I saw while I was stumbling around the duck was this bladderwort; the only one I’ve seen this year. The light was going fast but the camera coped.
I went to a brighter place out in the open where I knew some purple morning glories grow but I was too late and there wasn’t a single open flower. But what beautiful buds! I got out the camera I use for macros, took one shot, and got the dreaded “card full” message. There was nothing to do but try the new camera on them. I doubted it would be able to get a shot of something so small but here it is. I love the way these buds spiral but what really surprised me was the shine. And I hadn’t used a flash.
This is what a morning glory flower looks like when it is finished. It kind of falls in on itself. I was surprised that the new camera could get this shot without being in macro mode.
It also got a shot of a hedge bindweed flower that didn’t have pink stripes.
I finally found an emerald spread wing damselfly hanging on to a pickerel weed stem in sunlight, so now you can see their beautiful colors. The new camera did a fairly good job of reproducing them, I thought.
I was able to crop the photo to give you a better look. I like those big blue eyes and that metallic green. I also wanted you to see the tiny red “blob” under its abdomen. It’s a water mite, which is a parasite in the tick family that feeds on the blood of dragon and damselflies. It / they will eventually drop off when the damselfly is over water.
This shot I took a few years ago shows the immature water mites on a banded wing meadowhawk dragonfly. When one organism transports another organism of a different species it is a symbiotic process called “phoresy.” This information on water mites was confirmed by the folks at Bug Guide.net and Kathy Keatley Garvey and the bug squad from the University of California. Thanks also to Ginger Wells Kay for her help.
I was happy that the new camera was able to shoot dragonflies. The first one I tried was this widow skimmer. I chose this photo for this post because this dragonfly was hanging onto some Joe Pye weed buds. In my experience dragonflies don’t seem to perch on flowers that often.
Later on I ran into yet another bird; this time a great blue heron, wading through the weeds in the Ashuelot River. I couldn’t understand how it could wade here without tripping over all the growth but it did. A curious thing happened this year; pickeral weeds lined the river banks and bloomed as always, but then it started raining and didn’t stop. The river got so high that it was far over the “heads” of the blooming pickerel weeds, and it killed them all off. All that is left is the mass of dead leaf stalks seen in this photo.
The big heron stuck out its long neck and I thought it was going to make a spectacular catch but instead it froze and stayed that way, as if mesmerized. It seemed like it was ready to play statue, so I thanked it for letting me take photos and left it there staring at its own reflection.
One day I saw a lot of ferns with fern balls on them. Fern balls are created by an insect called a fern leaf roller. The rolled up leaves appear at the tip of a fern frond and look like a ball, and inside the ball are caterpillars of a moth, possibly in the herpetogramma family. The caterpillars pull the tip of the fern into a ball shape and tie it up with silk. Once inside the shelter they feed on the leaflets. Nature is always full of surprises.
Speaking of ferns, here is this year’s example of a royal fern. I like to always show this fern because many people don’t know that it is a fern. I almost always find royal ferns along river and pond banks. They turn a beautiful yellow color in the fall.
The acorn crop looks like it is going to be big this year and I’m so glad that I no longer have to rake them all up.
August is usually the time when our first asters appear. This one is a marsh aster; the first I’ve seen this season. There will be plenty more of them soon. They often grow in or very near the water at pond shores.
The unusual flowers of the ground nut plant also appear in August. They’re very pretty and always remind me of the helmets once worn by the Conquistadors. It always seems odd to me that we have “invented” so many things that have the same form, color, or function as the things found in nature. Nature has to be the inspiration behind many of the things man came up with in earlier times.
Plants release their seeds to the wind not knowing or caring whether or not they’ll fall on fertile soil, but still they grow into beauty like this. It strikes me that a blog is much the same; you let your words flow freely out into the world never knowing where they’ll land or what they might grow into. All one can do is hope that maybe one day something beautiiful might come from them.
If you come upon a spot where it looks like someone dumped a bowl full of orange spaghetti all over the plants then you’ve found a parasitic plant called dodder. It is an annual plant which, once it starts growing, quickly covers plants in what might look like the silly string that used to come in spray cans. Since it has no leaves it is easily seen.
Dodder doesn’t need leaves because it sucks all the life giving nutrients it needs from its host plant. In this photo taken earlier you can see how the orange stem of dodder, just to the left of the tiny flower, has penetrated and entered the stem of a goldenrod. Once this happens it gets all its nourishment from its host and it no longer needs to contact the soil it once grew from. Out in the field as I found it, it does no real harm but it can severly damage crops and for that reason farmers have given it names like devil’s guts, devil’s hair, devil’s ringlet, hail weed, hair weed, hell bine, pull-down, strangle weed, and witch’s hair. It’s hard to control; all the tiny green spheres you see in this photo are seed pods.
The only bird in this post I’ve tried to find is this cedar waxwing, which I found sitting on a stone in the middle of the river one evening. Many of you wrote in after the last post to say how much you loved these beautiful birds so I thought I’d show another one. It sat in the evening sun waiting for insects to happen by. Due to all the rain there are more mosquitoes this year than I’ve ever seen, so the waxwings won’t go hungry.
In the trembling grey of a spring dawn, when the birds were whispering in mysterious cadence among the trees, have you not felt that they were talking to their mates about the flowers? ~Kakuzō Okakura
The Ashuelot River in August is usually so low in places you can walk across it without getting your knees wet, but when I went there last week it was about as high as we like to see it. I have a feeling that someone somewhere opened the gates on a dam or something since then though, because two or three days after I took this shot the water had gone down considerably, and mud showed on the banks.
I went to the river to see if the beautiful cedar waxwings were there. At this time of year the sun has a certain slant at this location. In the evening insects are lit up by the light and I assume that the waxwings have an easier time seeing them. They wait in the trees and bushes and fly out and snap up mosquitoes, dragonflies, and other insects that happen to be flying through the shafts of light. There is a small maple tree there that has died and it’s a favorite perch, so I wait for them to get used to my being there and then try to get their photo when they land in it.
The waxwings love many of the berries that grow along the river such as the arrow wood viburnum berries seen here. Other berries that grow along the river in this immediate area are silky dogwood, pokeweed, wild grapes, Virginia creeper, and poison ivy, and waxwings love them all.
I like the way this waxwing was peeking up over the branches with its eyes probably on an unwary insect. I’ve seen them snatch dragonflies right off the bushes a few times. The waxwings move in small flocks and can strip a crabapple tree of its fruit in no time at all. The name “waxwing” comes from the way the tips of their wings look like they’ve been dipped in red wax. The undersides of their wings flash bright white in the evening sun and they are very beautiful. I love their little bandit mask and how sleek they are and how they dive, swoop and twirl in the air when chasing insects. If I had to make a list of favorite birds, cedar waxwings would be near the top.
I hope everyone is seeing and hearing their favorite birds this year. I downloaded the “Merlin” birding app from Google Play and it has opened a new world. Now, though I might not see a bird, I can record it and identify it with the app. It’s both amazing and fun, and I now know which songs are by which birds. I believe the free app also comes in an Apple version.
I went to a local park the other day to visit the small pond there. Usually there are hundreds of dragonflies there but on this day I had to struggle to find any. I sat on a bench wondering where they had all gone and then I saw several cedar waxwings streaking out of the trees and I knew. All the dragonflies were in hiding. From what I’ve seen of waxwings, they were wise to hide.
I’ve been trying to get better shots of the emerald spread wing damselflies. I’ve discovered a spot where they gather so I sit on a boulder on the pond shore and learn their habits, which are much the same as dragonflies. One noticeable difference is, these insects don’t have the same great speed as dragonflies. The “spread wing” part of the name comes from the way they keep their wings spread when at rest.
Unfortunately the spot where they gather at the pond is heavily shaded so I haven’t been completely happy with any shot I’ve gotten so far. This one does show the underside of its abdomen but doesn’t show the sky blue color that I had hoped to get. One day I’ll catch them perching in the sunshine and then I’ll be able to show you their beautiful colors the way they should be seen. Meanwhile I’ll wait.
One of the things that you come to understand quite quickly in nature study is that you will spend a lot of time just waiting and watching, because 99% of it is simply being in the right place at the right time. Knowing the habits of that which you study helps, but nature will always teach us patience one way or another.
I found a staghorn sumac with a deformed flower head at the end of a branch. You can pick out 2 tiny flowers in full bloom there in the lower right. This is something few people ever see.
A fern shadow spilled over a log. This is what I mean when I say that no matter where you look there is beauty. It is always there, waiting for us to discover it.
A few of the Indian cucumber root plants are throwing in the towel and taking on their beautiful deep purple fall colors. The berries will soon be ripening on plants that have them.
Purple loosestrife is one of our most invasive plants but I always have to admit that they’re quite pretty, even if do they look like someone hung them on the stalk before ironing them.
Joe Pye weed is blooming, with its wispy, thread like flower petals calling to all the insects. Bees and butterflies love them. Depending on which version of the story you believe a Native American named Joe Pye used this plant to heal, or the name of the plant he used was named Jopi. Either way the story points to the plant’s one time medicinal use.
I was happy to see what I thought was a monarch butterfly on some Joe Pye weed but no, it was a viceroy, and I know that because of the black lines on its hind wings. Still, it’s a beautiful butterfly and there haven’t been many of those around this summer. I imagined that two months of rain had a lot to do with that but that can’t be it because Maryland is in drought and they have as few butterflies as we do.
It was a very windy day when, as I walked through some tall grass, two pearl crescent butterflies flew a few feet ahead, always staying out of the wind by staying down low in the grass. This shot was a challenge because the camera kept wanting to focus on the grass and leaves instead of the butterfly. This butterfly is small and seems to be about the size of one wing of the bigger butterflies like monarchs or admirals.
One day I saw a very strange bird asleep on a log at a pond. You couldn’t see its face but one eye stared out of the photo I sent to a birding friend. He came back with the name Muscovy duck, which is a domesticated bird that will occasionally fly off into nature. It can’t fly as well as a wild duck or goose so it just kind of hangs out near water. The next day it was still there and it let me get a shot of its face. I saw then that it was an odd duck indeed. The Jimmy Durante of waterfowl. It was as big as a Canada goose.
A few days later I saw posters about a lost pet duck and sure enough, this was the duck I had seen. The poster said “she was very old, lost and probably scared” but she didn’t seem scared when I was near her. More curious than scared, I’d say. But anyhow, I called the phone number on the poster but didn’t get an answer, so hopefully they’ve found her.
Canada geese were in sight of the Muscovy duck, eating the same pond weeds that it eats. The duck will bully smaller wild ducks but it didn’t seem to want to tangle with the geese. That is probably wise.
Soon they’ll all be eating the seeds of American bur reed, which dots the shallows here and there.
Tall white rattlesnake root was once used in a poultice by Native Americans to cure headache, fever, and rattlesnake bite. A tonic made from its bitter roots was also used in place of quinine by early settlers and it is also called gall of the earth due to its bitterness. I like its beautiful lily like white flowers, which always speak of quiet serenity to me. Nothing seems to bother this plant; I never see it eaten by insects or harmed by munching animals, and that could be because it is toxic. It is native to the northeastern and midwestern U.S. and will grow as far south as North Carolina.
I like this scene for two reasons. The waterlily is obvious, but not so obvious is the pattern in the pickerel weed leaf. As fall gets closer these leaves will develop some beautiful and colorful flowing patterns. The light was also beautiful on this day. It looked like it was shining out from the water rather than on it.
We used to call this a Turk’s cap lily but I don’t know if they’re still called that now when people are so easily offended by terminology which in truth, usually comes from ignorance rather than malice. But names don’t matter. It’s an unusually shaped flower in the lily family and one that I’ve never loved enough to grow. I found these growing in a local park.
When I walk through public gardens I’m always surprised to see plants that the people I used to work for wanted nothing to do with. Anything in the allium family was hands off, probably due to the way garlic chives could take over a garden. That meant nodding onion was also left out, which I think is too bad. It’s a plant that I could have used in some of the gardens I worked in.
I saw a petunia that made me think of a cloud.
I like the tree branch patterns in a balloon flower. They’re almost always there, as if the shadows of overhead branches are falling on the flower. I also love that shade of deep blue.
For those who don’t know, balloon flower gets its name from its balloon like buds, which look as if they’re full of gas. Really there is just air inside but they will make a soft popping sound if you squeeze them. They are native to Japan, Korea, China, and parts of Russia but are now grown all over the world. Cough syrup was once made from the plant’s roots but I’ve never heard how effective it was.
I see far more of this color bee balm than I do red these days, and I think that’s too bad because I liked the native red. I used to grow the red ones and I had bees and hummingbirds all over them. I’ve never seen a bee or a hummingbird on these plants but I can’t sit and watch for them like I could when I grew the red ones, so maybe they do attract the birds and bees. I hope they do.
In summer, the song sings itself. ~William Carlos Williams
On a recent visit to my daughter’s garden I saw these glass baubles in one of the beds. They had spilled out of a flower vase and they just happened to be my favorite color, so I took a photo of them. What I didn’t see at the time was the lily reflection, which can be seen in the upper left corner of the photo.
This isn’t the lily that was reflected in the glass bauble but what a lily; it was beautiful, as were several others she grew. Clearly she has gardening in her genes but thankfully, she doesn’t want to make a living at it as I once did. It is a hugely rewarding but also an exhausting career that can make your body old before its time, especially when you work with stone.
She grows a lot of plants that I haven’t seen, like this “snap dragon vine,” which was a beautiful thing. Apparently it is native to Mexico and the southwest. Since my son lives in New Mexico at the moment, I asked him about it. I couldn’t imagine such a lush thing growing in such heat but he says northern parts of the state are forested and mountainous, much like here.
I noticed one of those metallic blow flies on a false sunflower. I’m seeing a lot of them this summer.
She has a lot of beautiful zinnias in her garden. I was hoping to see butterflies visiting them but we have a serious lack of butterflies here this year, so all I saw were bees and dragonflies. She puts pans of water out so the birds and insects can drink but still, no butterflies on this day. I’ve seen one or two great spangled fritillaries, a few white admirals, and a single viceroy, but no monarchs yet. I’ve been wondering if the drenching downpours we’re having have shredded their wings.
Another flower she grows that I hadn’t seen is the fiddleback. I looked them up online and saw some that looked just like a fern fiddlehead uncurling in spring. They’re in the borage family and are quite pretty.
She grows lots of vegetables and herbs as well as flowers. Since I’ve been talking about legumes this summer, here is a pea blossom, with the expected standard and keel. She also had pole beans but for some reason I couldn’t get a shot of a flower. Everything she grows is in raised beds full of wonderful things like cow and horse manure and compost. The plants obviously love it; these pea plants had climbed up over my head.
She also grows my favorite oxalis. I’m surprised that she doesn’t grow more housplants, because she grew up in an indoor jungle. I once grew so many housplants that I used to tell people who were coming to visit that they had better bring a machete, and I was only half joking. There were trees, ferns, vines, and everything in between. Come to think of it maybe that’s why my daughter doesn’t grow very many houseplants.
She grows some white petunias that have this curious deep purple marking in them. She grows all her plants from seed and I think she said these were saved seeds from last year. In any case it was a petunia I had never seen, and I’ve had my nose in an awful lot of petunias. I had my nose in these as well, because they’re fragrant petunias.
This is one of many sunflowers that my daughter grows. I realized after I had left her house that I hadn’t gotten wider views of the gardens, but I think that showing flowers rather than the gardens they grow in comes naturally to a gardener. I spent a large part of my life on my hands and knees weeding and deadheading gardens and when you’re in that position your eyes are right at flower level, so you look into them rather than at them and focus on the health of each plant rather than the garden as a whole. Depending on the cause one sick plant can make an entire garden sick, so I always made sure I watched each plant closely. I was right there on my hands and knees anyway so it wasn’t as hard as it might seem. But I’ll have to go back again and see if I can’t get some wider shots. I’d like to see those fiddlebacks unfurling as well.
I haven’t spent all my time in my daughter’s garden. I’ve also been out exploring places like this. The growing season is far from over and we have an explosion of growth going on right now.
The wild lettuces are blooming. Giant ten foot tall plants will have a few pencil eraser size flowers, colored green or blue, at the very top. This was a blue one but it was more white than blue. Maybe ice blue. The green ones are far more common than the blue, so I have to search for the blue ones.
Tall asters are one of the first of the asters to bloom and here they are, right on schedule. Next will come big leaf asters, white whorled wood asters, New England asters, and many more. I’ve seen tall asters that towered over my head but these were right at eye level.
Dragonflies are still flying everywhere I go so I will often stop and see if I can get a shot of one. They are always a challenge but this blue dasher was willing to pose.
Slaty skimmers are also still very active. I do all I can to get those wing patterns in a shot because I think the ones on this dragonfly are very beautiful. Somehow I got 3 out of 4.
I’m seeing more bees, flies, and dragonflies this year than I ever have. And mosquitoes; bug spray is a must if you’re going to spend time in the woods.
While I was there I thought I’d try to show you a single Queen Anne’s lace flower. I think there are actually two or three here but it was the best I could do with so many bees flying around.
I saw a bird in a bush, and I believe it was a catbird. These birds have been flying from bush to bush, following me as I walk along in this area. You would think that they’d be easy to see but it was all I could do to find this one with the camera at a few yards away. When I finally did find it I had one hand held shot, and this is it. Birds, dragonflies, and many other insects will stay still and watch you fumble with your camera settings, but as soon as you point that lens at them they’re gone in a streak, just as this bird was. It might be colorblindness that makes them so hard for me to see, I don’t know.
I’m seeing a lot of Canada goose families with goslings almost as big as their parents now. I don’t say much about it but many goslings are lost to snapping turtles, hawks, foxes, bobcats, and other predators each year. I’ve seen large families reduced to one gosling when I was able to watch them each day. This year though, they seem to be doing well. Humans also prey on adult geese so they are wary. They’re a bird that will sometimes put up with you but more often than not they’ll turn and show you their tail. It seems to depend on how quietly you move and how close you are to them. This bird swam in liquid sunshine and I thought it might be too lost in bliss to notice me but no, it turned away.
Our wild clematis called Virgin’s bower has just started flowering. This vine, with its masses of small white flowers, drapes itself over the tops of shrubs to get maximum sunlight and it’s very common along railtrails and roadways. Another name for it is traveler’s joy, and that it is. Sweet autumn clematis, which is a cultivated variety of small, white flowered clematis, comes closest in both habit and flower size.
Shy little Deptford pinks have started blooming. These plants are not as showy or as prolific as their cousins the maiden pinks, and the flowers are smaller. I always have to look in places I know they grow in to find them. They’re quite pretty though, and always worth looking for.
I’ll go from the tiny Deptford pink to this beautiful daylily, which was the biggest daylily blossom I’ve ever seen. It grows in a local park and is so big I couldn’t cover it with my hand, even though I had stretched out all my fingers. Every gardener has an image in their mind of what a daylily looks like but I had to stand for a while and give my mind time to discard the old image and build a new one. This will surely be the flower size that all future daylily breeder introductions will be measured against. It’s amazing.
Jewelweed has just come into bloom and this is the first blossom I saw. They appear at the end of long thin stems (Pedicels) and they move with the slightest breeze, so they can be a challenge to photograph. The common name of the plant comes from the way raindrops sparkle on its leaves, not from its flowers. The leaves have a wax coating that resists water absorption, and that’s why raindrops sit and sparkle like drops of mecury on jewelweed leaves.
Imagine a bee having to crawl down through a pincusion of pistils to get to a flower’s pollen and you have the button bush flower head. Crawling down through all those sticky pistils means it will brush against some of them and leave any pollen it has on its body with them, and that’s exactly the strategy that has evolved in the buttonbush. I see lots of seed heads on buttonbush plants so it must work well. Later on ducks, geese, and songbirds will come along to eat up all the seeds, and they’ll spread them far and wide to make new button bushes. If you have wet spots in your yard or are lucky enough to have a stream running through it, plant a buttonbush or two. If nothing else it will surely be a conversation starter.
The old school of thought would have you believe that you’d be a fool to take on nature without arming yourself with every conceivable measure of safety and comfort under the sun. But that isn’t what being in nature is all about. Rather, it’s about feeling free, unbounded, shedding the distractions and barriers of our civilization—not bringing them with us. ~Ryel Kestenbaum
Here’s where all the rain we had went. The Ashuelot River roared mightily as it went rushing by on its way to the Atlantic, carrying countless tons of soil with it. In flood the river deposits fine silt it over all the land that is flooded and then, sometimes many years later, rains wash it back into the river. It’s all a circle.
One of the flowers that like growing in the soil deposited by the river is the monkey flower, and I’ve seen more of them this year than I ever have. I haven’t seen a monkey in one though.
It is said that whoever named the monkey flower saw a monkey’s face in it, but I don’t see a monkey any more than I see a turtle in a turtlehead flower. Maybe its just lack of imagination on my part, I don’t know.
Here is where I found a monkey; in the face of a blue dasher dragonfly.
Because they kept landing in the shade I had to try many times over several days to get a shot of what I think might be an emerald damselfly. It’s the only useable shot I’ve gotten of one. I like its big blue bug eyes and its green metallic shine. This one, if I’ve identified it correctly, is a male and its abdomen and tail are powder blue, though they look white in this shot. The “tree” it is hanging on to is really just a twig, smaller in diameter than a pencil. This long bodied damselfly reminded me of the old wives’ tales about it and others of its kind that I heard as a boy. They were called “sewing needles” or “devil’s darning needles,” and were supposed to be able to sew your eyes and lips closed if you weren’t careful. Why would anyone tell a child such foolishness? I can’t see that doing so would serve any useful purpose. It would only make them afraid of a beautiful part of nature, and of what possible use is that? I can’t remember ever believing any such stories but memory can’t always be trusted, so I may have.
According to what I’ve read flies like hoverflies, or blowflies like the one seen in this photo, visit flowers to sip their nectar and taste their pollen. Flies sip the nectar for strength, which they need to keep flying, and the pollen helps them produce healthy eggs. Since they are hairy, bottle or blowflies help with pollination by carrying pollen from one flower to another. I walked though a field of Queen Anne’s lace flowers one day and saw as many flies as I did bees.
Some of the dogwoods are whispering things I’d rather not hear, so I didn’t listen. I just admired their beautiful colors.
A few posts ago I talked about the legume family and how you could identify them by the flowers, which have a standard and a keel. Here, on showy tick trefoil flowers you can see the vertical, half round standard and the keel, which juts out at about 90 degrees or so from the standard. Inside the keel are the reproductive parts. When ready the keel opens and lowers, and the reproductive parts show themselves as they’ve done here. Strong, smart insects like bumblebees will often force open the keel to get to the goodies ahead of time.
Every time I see a bicolor hedge bindweed blossom I remember when I had to search high and low to find one, because 99% of them were plain white. Now it’s just the opposite; all I see are bicolor ones and I have to search for the plain white ones. It’s an interesting lesson on how flowers evolve to attract more insects. More insects mean more pollinated flowers and that means more seeds. More seeds increase the likelihood of the continuation of the species, and continuation of the species is a driving force in nature.
One evening this cottontail saw me and crouched down to make itself small, as if it wanted to melt into the earth, but as I stood and watched it relaxed and made itself “big” again. I like it when animals sense that I mean them no harm, as this rabbit did. After taking a couple of shots I thanked it and left as it went on munching white clover. I could have artificially lightened this shot but I wanted you to see what I saw. I liked all the lights in the grasses.
Eastern amber wing dragonflies are very pretty but also quite small; I’ve read that they are only about an inch long. I saw them swarming around a pickerel weed plant at a pond and noticed that they never seemed to land. They were always in motion, so I gave up trying to get a shot. Then one day when I wasn’t near water the one shown above flew in front of me and landed on this grass stalk. As you spend more time with nature you find yourself becoming increasingly thankful for what once seemed small or insignificant things, like a dragonfly or a rabbit willing to pose for a photo. Gratitude tends to seep in quite naturally, as do love and joy.
A bee foraging on pollen had its pollen sacs filled to almost overflowing, by the looks. Knapweed pollen is white, as we can see. It’s a beautiful but supposedly invasive flower. I say supposedly because in this area it stays mostly on the embankments the highway department planted it on. I do see it in the wild occasionally but usually just a plant or two.
I’ve always liked the buds on Joe Pye weed as much as the flowers but of course the butterflies and bees prefer the flowers. Last year I found a colony of several plants that were covered in monarch and great spangled fritillary butterflies. I hope I see the same this year, because I still haven’t seen a monarch.
One day I found a little orange skipper butterfly probing for nutrients in the gravel along the side of a road. I got home intending to try to identify it and found so many species of little orange skippers it seemed like it would take forever to identify it, so little orange skipper will have to do for a name.
Pretty little pale spike lobelias have started blooming. Though their color can range from white to deep blue, most I’ve seen this year have looked like the one in the photo. This plant reaches to about knee high and grows in what can be large colonies. Each single flower could hide behind a standard aspirin. Next will come their cousins, Indian tobacco lobelia.
I don’t know who Barbara was but this plant is called Barbara’s buttons. It’s a native perennial plant (Marshallia) in the aster family. The flowers ae quite pretty and unusual, and probably about the same diameter as a large hen’s egg. I’ve read that it grows on roadsides, bogs, or open pine woodlands but it is said to be rare, even in its native southeastern U.S. It can be found for sale at nurseries specializing in rare, unusual and / or exotic plants. I first found this one last year in a garden at a commercial business building.
Like most other plants flowering raspberry is blooming well this year. I’ve known them for a very long time so they seem like old friends. I always like to see their cheery blooms, but even though their fruit looks like a giant, end of your thumb size raspberry, they seem tasteless to me. People have said that you have to put them on the very tip of your tongue to taste them but I’ve tried that as well, and all I’ve tasted is nothing. It was as if I was trying to taste air.
Invasive Japanese honeysuckle berries go from green to this electric, neon orange, and then to bright red, and the birds love them. That’s why I say once the genie is out of the bottle it’s near impossible to get it back in. True, you’d need an army devoted to nothing but honeysuckle control, but why not organize one?
It appears to be a great year for hazelnuts but in some places the blueberry crop has failed. In other areas like hilltops and mountainsides they’re doing fine. I met someone just the other day who told me the apple crop has also failed in certain orchards because of the late freeze, and he said his hay crop will only bear a single late cutting this year. You can’t cut hay in the rain.
I found this plant growing in the garden of a local business and realized that I didn’t know its name. The flowers looked like small hollyhock or rose of Sharon blossoms, but only half the size. The scalloped, basal leaves were shiny and stem leaves were narrow, like willow leaves. The plant was about 3 feet tall and loaded with flowers. I took a couple of shots of it and Google lens told me it was a false mallow.
With flowers like these I was sure it had to be in the mallow family because it had “that look” but false mallow was one I had never heard of. After a little reading I found that it doesn’t like real hot weather and goes dormant until it gets cooler unless it gets regular watering, so I think I’d try it first where it got mostly cooler morning sun, even though some instructions say full sun. It blooms in mid to late summer and is drought tolerant and deer resistant, which would make it valuable in this area. If you like hollyhocks but don’t have the room this one might be for you; another name for it is “miniature hollyhock.”
I found a peachy daylily in my yard that I had forgotten I had. That’s the beauty of daylilies; you can fuss with them if you like but they are in fact a “plant it and forget it” perennial. If you’re looking for a low maintenance garden, daylilies should be near the top of your list. With early, midseason, and late varieties that come in just about any color but blue or black, you can do a lot with them.
Beautiful swamp milkweed is still blooming. One of the benefits of the overcast skies and rain has been longer blooming times for many plants. Some I’ve seen have been blooming for close to a month, and that’s unusual.
I was crawling around on the forest floor, getting shots of mushrooms when I noticed something blue in the cleft of a large boulder. Prying it out with my finger wasn’t easy but I got it out and saw that it was a painted stone. There in the woods it looked like a waterfall falling over the edge of the stone. Whoever painted it has some artistic ability; I thought it was nice how they got the feel of falling water with their brush. Now though, when I see it in a photo, it looks like snowy mountain peaks and trails, trees, and sky. Unless someone was on their hands and knees as I was they would never have seen it, so I wonder what the point of hiding it there was. In any event it I enjoyed seeing it, so I owe a thank you to whoever put it there.
If you want a photographic challenge try enchanter’s nightshade. Not only are the flowers smaller than a pea, but the plants usually grow in deep shade. I’ve had years when I just couldn’t pull it off even after trying many times, but this year after maybe a dozen tries I got lucky. Enchanter’s nightshade isn’t a nightshade at all, but is related to evening primroses. Its small round seed pods readily stick to your clothes and I sometimes find that I’m covered with them when I get home.
In Homer’s Odyssey, Circe the enchantress drugged Odysseus’ crew and turned them into swine. Circe, who was the daughter of the sun and granddaughter of the oceans, gives enchanter’s nightshade its scientific name Circaea.
As children, we are very sensitive to nature’s beauty, finding miracles and interesting things everywhere. As we grow up, we tend to forget how beautiful and magnificent the world is. There is magic and wonder for eyes who know how to look with curiosity and love. ~ Ansel Adams
Three years ago this farmer’s fields flooded so he stopped growing corn and grew wheat instead. Through two years of drought the wheat did fine but this spring things seemed to change. It seemed like it would be a more “normal” spring; I felt it and apparently so did the farmer because he went back to planting corn. Then the heavy, slow moving rains came and not only flooded the cornfields again but they’ve devastated Vermont and New York. I think about the people I know who live out that way and hope those in the hardest hit areas are safe. Here in New Hampshire 4.5 inches of rain fell in one day. We have large sections of roads completely gone and water flowing over the tops of smaller dams, and the storms keep coming. The local river, the Ashuelot, can’t hold much more. If there is anything good about getting this much rain it is the mushrooms and slime molds that have started appearing everywhere. They’ll appear right here too, in a future post.
But despite all the cloudy, wet weather the flowers haven’t stopped blooming, as this meadowsweet shows. Meadowsweet is in the spirea family and that family always has a slightly fuzzy look from all the stamens. The flowers are white, even though those in the photo appear pink. I think they were colored by the low light. This year there is more meadowsweet blooming than I’ve ever seen so it must like lots of water.
One of my favorite summer flowers is chicory and I’m happy to see plenty of them blooming this summer. I once worked as a gardener for a man who used to grow chicory in large window box type containers he had built in his cellar. But I never saw them bloom; in fact he would have been horrified to see them blooming because he grew them for the roots, which can be eaten as a vegetable. Leaves can be blanched to remove bitterness, and he did that as well.
Our big Canada lilies are in bloom. Once again they remind me of chandeliers, as they always seem to do. This plant towered over my head and its flowers were a good five inches across. Everything about it is big.
I found this flower when it was young, and I know that because its huge anthers hadn’t opened. Once the outer casings seen here split apart they open to reveal their abundant pollen. They will change to a deep maroon color, aging to brown, and insects will flock to them. You can see that color on the anthers in the previous photo. Years ago I worked for a lady who did a lot of flower arranging, and she told me that if you were going to use lilies in an arrangement you should always cut off the anthers because if the pollen ever got on your tablecloth it would stain it permanently. I had the feeling she spoke from experience.
The big orange daylilies called “ditch lilies” are blooming and they can be seen just about anywhere. They’re a plant you’ll find growing near old stone cellar holes out in the middle of nowhere and along old New England roads. They are also found in cemeteries, often planted beside the oldest graves. They’re one of those plants that were passed from neighbor to neighbor and spread quickly because of it. They were introduced into the United States from Asia in the late 1800s as an ornamental, and plant breeders have now registered over 40,000 cultivars, all of which have “ditch lily” genes and all of which have the potential to spread just like the original has.
Coneflowers, from our native prairies, are well known around the world. I’ve seen a few hybrids; white flowered ones, red flowered ones, and bicolor ones with green on the petals, but I prefer the native purple flowered plants. We (mankind) are able to make our own version of just about anything these days and we often change something just because we can. I’ve seen man-made hybrid plants that were incredibly beautiful but I always lean more toward the natural “as found” plants. That’s not to say that nature can’t improve upon itself. One of the ways we find “new” plants is by planting many thousands of seeds and looking for that one plant out of thousands that is different from the rest. That plant is called a sport, which is a natural genetic mutation. Some sports can be very beautiful but my personal preference in coneflowers is for purple, the way nature originally intended it.
The big bull thistles bloomed a little later this year, probably due to lack of sunlight. I’ve been pricked by these plants enough times to think “ouch” by just looking at the photo. I like to see lots of these bloom though, because when they go to seed goldfinches come to eat them and it usually means an easy photo of a very pretty bird.
There are drifts of daisy fleabane brightening the landscape almost everywhere I go. They will bloom from June sometimes into November, so it is one of our longest blooming plants. It is considered a pioneer species, meaning it is one of the first plants to grow in unused pastures, or cleared or burned areas. Fleabanes get their name from the way the dried plants repel fleas. Native Americans made a tea from them which was used as medicine for digestive ailments.
Humble little narrow leaf cow wheat often grows in the forest or on forest edges and almost always blooms in pairs. Though it looks innocent enough it is really a thief that steals nutrients from surrounding plants. A plant that can photosynthesize and create its own food but is still a parasite on surrounding plants is known as a hemiparasite. Its long white, tubular flowers tipped with yellow-green are very small but seem bright in a low light forest.
Curly dock, a common roadside weed, has gone to seed and its small seeds look like the tiny seed pearls you see in portraits of royalty, sewn onto their clothes. Each seed has a wing attached to it and as they age these wings often turn a deep maroon color, which makes them even more beautiful. Once they ripen and fall the wing will make it easier for the wind to scatter the seeds around.
White admiral butterflies are still with us but I see fewer of them now. I think they must be slowing down, because this one had lost part of its wing to a bird. They pick up a few battle scars and look a little more ragged as they age. It must be hard for them to out fly a bird, especially one as sharp as a king bird.
A great spangled fritillary butterfly sipped from a knapweed blossom. These beautiful butterflies just appeared this week but like the white admiral in the previous shot this fritillary already had a small piece of wing torn. These orange butterflies remind me that I still haven’t seen a monarch butterfly.
This shot of the great spangled fritillary’s spangles was taken on a different day. It’s beautiful but I thought it was too bad I hadn’t gotten a shot of its eyes when I looked at these photos, because they’re really amazing.
This shot of a great spangled fritillary’s eyes is from a few years ago up on Pitcher Mountain when the fritillaries were loving the orange hawkweed. If you click on the photo you can see its beautiful jewel like eyes close up. How I’d love to see through those eyes, just once.
A female red winged blackbird had what looked like a beak full of insects, but I can’t be sure. I’ve seen females dig fat white grubs out of rotted cattail stems before but that doesn’t look like what this bird has. Despite the white sky background it was a hot, humid, and completely overcast day. We’ve had a lot of those lately.
Love grass is turning purple. From here it will darken and then turn brown. Once the seeds ripen the entire seed head will break off and go rolling away like a tumbleweed, scattering seeds as it goes. It’s a short, pretty grass common on roadsides.
Creeping bellflower is in the campanula family and it has pretty flowers that all appear on one side of the stalk, making it easy to identify. I hope you don’t have it in your yard but if you do you might as well learn to love it, because it is impossible to eradicate without using weedkillers. Actually, since I’ve never used weedkillers on it I’m not positive that even they will finish it off. It’s very persistent but not super aggressive. I know of one small plot of it at the edge of the woods that hasn’t expanded in the decade that I’ve watched it. It comes back every year but doesn’t take over more space, even though it’s in full sun. Originally from Europe, the leaves and tuberous roots were used as food in places like Siberia. Once in this country it almost immediately escaped gardens and has now naturalized.
I tried to get a bee’s eye view into some foxglove blossoms and I saw spots.
Many years ago a lady I worked for gave me a piece of her beautiful Japanese iris. It has lived here ever since but it only blooms when it has had enough rain, so this is the first blossom I’ve seen on it in probably four or five years now. This year it’s loaded with buds but every time it has blossomed in the afternoon it has poured rain at night and the heavy rain has broken the stem. These flower are bigger than my fist so there is a lot of surface area for rain to fall on.
Tall thimble weed gets its name from its seed heads, which you can just see over on the right. They can get quite big and when they do they look like thimbles. These flowers are close to the diameter of a quarter; about an inch. The plant often reaches waist high so the flower’s white sepals stand above surrounding vegetation. You’ve got to be quick with this one because they don’t last long.
I had my camera pointed at this wild rose when a bumblebee flew in to forage. I couldn’t understand why it would bother; its pollen sacs looked to be filled to overflowing.
I like the hairy flowers on motherwort but each one is so small it could hide behind a pencil eraser. They’re always a challenge but it’s worth it to be able to see everything that’s going on in the orchid like flowers. At a glance this plant might resemble one of the nettle family but the square stems show it to be in the mint family. Originally from Asia, it’s considered an invasive weed but it was originally brought to this country because of its long history of medicinal use in Europe and Asia. It’s common along roads and in fields.
Fringed loosestrife is easy to identify, with its masses of bright inch to half inch flowers all nodding toward the ground. It starts blooming just as swamp candles, another yellow loosestrife, start to fade. These plants are much bigger than swamp candles and they don’t grow in or near water. They like to be high and dry and I often find them along rail trails. The only other plant fringed loosestrife might be confused with is whorled loosestrife, but that plant blooms slightly earlier and isn’t as tall or as bushy, and its flowers face outward rather than downward.
Sometimes the flower petals look fringed on fringed loosestrife but that’s not where the plant’s name comes from. The plant gets its common name from the fringe of hairs on its leafstalks which, if you look closely you can see in this photo. The yellow flower petals fade from lemon to pale yellow as they near the center, and red is found at the very center. Red is found on all yellow loosestrife flowers that bloom in this area and it is a good way to identify this family of plants. Fringed loosestrife is easily overlooked because so many plants are blooming at this time of year, but it’s worth looking for. When it blooms alongside purple flowered plants like showy tick trefoil or vetch it’s even more beautiful.
What is beautiful? Whatever is perceived joyfully is beautiful. Bliss is the essence of beauty. ~Nisargadatta
It’s that time of year when all the water loving flowers bloom and with 22 out of 30 days in June rainy, they’re loving life and blooming well, as this pickerel weed shows. I usually like to show a closeop of the fuzzy flowers with their yellow spots but water levels in all the ponds are high enough to keep me from getting close enough. This group grew just off shore but was still in two feet of water.
Pickerel weed as the story goes, gets its name from the way pickerel fish hide among the stems. Like so many stories I always thought that though there might be some truth to it, it had probably been “enhanced” over the years, so I always took it with a grain of salt. Then one day I happened to be walking by a fisherman whose rod suddenly bent almost double. I stopped and watched as he reeled in a good sized pickerel that had put up quite a fight. He thanked me for bringing him luck even though I had done nothing, and I asked him where the fish had taken his bait. “Right out there in those pickerel weeds,” he said.
American bur reed has just come into bloom. The spherical bur like parts are its flowers. This plant grows in shallow water near shore and can form huge colonies that can take over small ponds. There are two types of flowers on this plant. The smaller and fuzzier staminate male flowers grow at the top of the stem and the larger pistillate female flowers lower down. Even the larger flowers are less than a half inch across. After pollination the male flowers fall off and the female flowers become a bur-like cluster of beaked fruits that ducks and other waterfowl eat.
If you spend time near ponds in summer in New Hampshire you’re going to see plenty of dragonflies, like this twelve spotted skimmer. To get to 12 on this one you count only the dark wing spots, not the white ones. Skimmers usually fly just above the water looking for flies, mosquitoes, beetles, and other flying insects, but the name “skimmer” comes from the way they can scoop up water to help with egg laying by using two flanges on the underside of the abdomen. This one was perched on shore and would fly out, circle, and return to its perch. All I had to do was be still, watch, and wait.
Swamp candles is the name given to one of our yellow loosestrife species. Though most grow on dry land this one prefers to have its feet wet and it is often found growing just off shore where the ground is more mud than soil. It grows to about knee high and can form quite large colonies. I also see it in ditches and at the edge of forests where the soil stays very moist. The plants pictured here were growing in water at the very edge of where the land met the water.
If you look closely you usually find at least a bit of red somwhere on a swamp candle flower, and on other yellow loosestrife flowers as well. They’re very pretty, even from a distance, and they do indeed light up a swamp or anywhere else they grow.
Joe Pye weed isn’t blooming quite yet but it’s still beautiful with its purple leaves. It is said that the color is there to protect the new growth from sunburn but it will quickly fade to green once the leaves become accustomed to the bright sunlight. The plant almost always grows near water and is known for its large, dusty rose flower heads that butterflies and bees love. There are two legends about the origin of its name. The best known says Joe Pye was the name of a Native American healer who used the plant to heal, and the second says that the true name is Jopi, which is the native name of the plant, not the healer. I’m more inclined to believe the latter version but in the end I don’t know and it really doesn’t matter. The moment now when I become lost in its beauty is all that matters.
I was walking through some knee high growths of grasses, sedges, and rushes at the edge of a pond and up flew a widow skimmer. I wasn’t thinking of dragonflies at the time but I shouldn’t have been surprised because I’ve read that off in the knee high growth near water is just where this dragonfly likes to be. I’ve noticed by watching them that they like to hang or perch vertically as this one did. I’ve read that females don’t have the white patches on their wings like this one displays. They are called “widows,” it is said, because the males don’t guard the females while they’re laying eggs like other dragonflies do. This one might be an immature male.
I thought I might see a frog to include in this post and I saw many just as they jumped into the water, so instead I settled for a slower moving turtle. Something about this one seems odd to me but I can’t put my finger on what it is. It’s as if there is too much yellow on it, or maybe that the yellow seems brighter than usual, I’m not sure. Maybe its just me and this turtle looks just the way it should. It’s always funny how you can see something like this thousands of times and then one day you pick something out that makes it seem like you’re seeing it for the first time.
One of my favorite wet feet, swampy flowers has just come into bloom and I’m happy to see it. I’m told that blue vervain is actually purple but I didn’t name it. Native Americans had many medicinal uses for the roots, seeds, and leaves of this plant. Its leaves were dried and then used in a tea that was used as a spring tonic. Seeds were roasted and ground into flour, and the roots were used to ease headaches and calm the nerves. I’ve read that even the flowers can be eaten in salad, but I’ve also read that ingesting the plant can interfere with some blood pressure medications, so as is always the case when using wild or unknown plants, care should be taken.
Cattails are flowering and since a single stalk can produce an estimated 220,000 seeds, it looks like a good year. Female green flowers appear near the top of the tall stalk and the fluffy yellowish green male pollen bearing flowers above them. Once fertilized the female parts turn from green to dark brown and the male flowers will fall off, leaving a stiff pointed spike above the familiar cigar shaped seed head.
Cattails were an important food for Native Americans. Their roots contain more starch than potatoes and more protein than rice, and native peoples made flour from them. They also ate the new shoots in spring, which must have been especially welcome after a long winter of eating dried foods. They had uses for every part of this plant; even the pollen was harvested and used in bread.
One of the most unusual and rare aquatic plants in this area is the water lobelia. I’ve seen it in just one spot and that might be because it is said to be a more northern species. It is said to be an indicator of infertile and relatively pristine shoreline wetlands. The small, pale blue or sometimes white flowers are less than a half inch long and not very showy. As is true with larger lobelias like cardinal flowers, the bases of the 5 petals are fused into a tube and the 2 shorter upper petals fold up. I’ve read that the flowers can bloom and set seed even under water. The seed pods are said to contain numerous seeds and that might be why I saw that there were many more plants this year than there have been in the past.
Chalk fronted corporal is kind of a tedious name for a dragonfly but as I’ve said; I don’t name them. I keep taking photos of this one so I can show you the “corporal stripes” that give it its name and you can just see them there behind the head. It’s not a great shot of the stripes but since I can’t get one to face me it’ll have to do. I’ve noticed that many dragonflies prefer having me behind them or off to the side, not face to face. The white on its body does look chalky so that fact along with the stripes makes its name sensible, even if it is a little tedious. This dragonfly is another skimmer; one of the “king skimmers,” so called because of the way they dominate dragonfly activity at a pond. I’ve seen them chase off many other dragonflies that I was trying to get shots of so again, the name fits. I like to see the patterns in a dragonfly’s wings and these are quite beautiful.
This shot is for those who’ve never seen a fragrant white water lily bud.
Those buds will open into what I think of as the queen of the aquatics, which is the beautiful waterlily seen here. I saw something strange happen this year, speaking of water liles. A small fire pond next to a shopping center is full of fragrant white waterlilies and that’s my usual “go to” spot when I feel like taking photos of them. I went one day and decided it was just too cloudy to do anything worthwhile. Then a couple of days later after some heavy rain I went back to find that the water level of the pond had risen so much not a single flower could be seen. Were they all under water? I don’t know; I’ve never seen it happen before. Hopefully they’ll bloom again when the water level drops.
I call it frog jelly but a more correct name would be frog spawn. How it got on top of this lily pad I don’t know. If you click on the photo and look closely you can see tadpoles, but I wouldn’t think they’d be doing very well under the hot sunshine we had this day. By the way, you can buy jars of frog jelly online. I didn’t read the ingredients, and I’m not really sure I want to.
I believe this dragonfly is another skimmer called the slaty skimmer but I’m not sure because of its blotchy body color. Mature males have dark blue bodies and black heads but since the blue coloration is a bit splotchy on this one I think it must be an immature male growing into its adult body color. In any event it’s a beautiful dragonfly and is supposed to be another “king skimmer,” even though I’ve seen the chalk fronted corporals chase them off many times.
From a distance I thought I was shooting another slaty skimmer but then I saw the white “spangle” on its wing in the foreground and I realized it was a spangled skimmer. It’s hard to see but there is a black spangle on the outside leading edge of the wing and a white one on the inside, toward the body. The spangles are called pterostigmata, which is why I call them spangles. This dragonfly, if I understand what I’ve read correctly, is a mature male. Its blue color shows that; immature males and females are brown with yellow stripes. It was amazingly hot and humid when I was taking some of these photos but it didn’t seem to bother the dragonflies.
I always feel fortunate when I find floating heart plants growing close enough to shore to get photos of them, but even then I have to use a zoom lens. This is our smallest water lily, with small, heart-shaped, greenish, or reddish to purple leaves that are about an inch and a half wide. They are what give the plant its name. The tiny flowers of floating heart are about the size of a common aspirin, but never seem to open fully. I look for them in shallow, still water but they aren’t common. I saw a lot of insects visiting the flowers on this day and I was thinking that the flowers might not open fully so water doesn’t get in. The cup shape might prevent some splash over.
Floating hearts grow a foot or two (sometimes more) off shore and in this spot forget me nots grew in the water right at the shore line. The forget me nots were so lush and tall they actually kept blocking my shot of the floating hearts. I never thought much about forget me nots and water until I saw them at this spot a year or two ago. Since then I’ve remembered the time I found a huge colony of thousands of plants growing on a river bank that floods regularly, so there is no doubt that these plants like a lot of water.
Pale St. Johnswort flowers are sometimes quite pale and at other times bright, lemon yellow, but they always seem to grow new branches just under the terminal flower cluster, as can be seen here. The plants are usually in colonies where they grow, with some right at the water’s edge and others a foot or two away. The plants grow to about shin height with flowers that are about half the size of a standard St. Johnswort, or about a half inch across. I’ve never seen this plant grow anywhere but in or near water on pond shores or in wetlands.
I’m far from being an authority on insects but most of the dragonflies in this post are fairly common so I didn’t think any of them would trip me up. Until I met this one, that is. At first I thought it was an eastern pondhawk because of the powdery blue color, but they don’t have amber on their wings, so it couldn’t be that. You can see how the leading wing edges are colored amber and they’re the same color where they meet the body. I have a bad shot that shows yellow on the side of the body, so I’ve settled on the yellow sided skimmer, and I think it’s an immature male. If I’m wrong with this or any other dragonfly identification I hope someone will let me know.
NOTE: Thanks to some help from a friend I went and looked up blue dashers, and I think this dragonfly is one of those. They have the same amber on the wings and other features match the male blue dasher as well. Thanks Georgette!
This looks like a side view of the yellow sided skimmer in the previous shot but there is no amber on the wings, so that can’t be it. It has white appendages (ceri) at the very tip of its “tail,” its wings are clear and it has a greenish thorax, which is the part where the wings meet the body. It has a green face and blue green eyes, and likes to perch on the ground, so all of that points to an immature male eastern pondhawk. Males are at first green, slowly changing to powdery blue over several weeks, and this one had apparently almost completed the process. Pondhawks are said to be “ferocious hunters” which will eat just about any other insect, including other dragonflies and damselflies. Though they’re found near water they can also be found in meadows, away from water. I sat and watched this one fly off and return to this spot a few times but I never saw it eating. It was tough to get a clear shot of it with such a busy background so I was hoping it would land on a twig or leaf, but it never did.
One of my favorite “pond flowers” is swamp milkweed. It normally grows a few feet from the water up on shore but this year for the first time I found it growing in the water of a slow moving stream. It’s a beautiful thing that always reminds me of millefiori paperweights. Millefiori means “thousand flowers.” I have a small paperweight collection from years ago and I often think of how nice it would be to have something like this encased in glass on a desk, but as far as I know it has never been reproduced. The “flowers” seen in paperweights are sections of colored glass rods, so maybe this color is hard to get. Too bad; it would be a wonderful thing for a nature lover to see on those below zero winter days.
There are certain rare flowers that I always hope to see and one of those is the rose pogonia orchid, so imagine my surprise last year when I came upon this small bog mat / island full of them just a few yards offshore in a local pond. I was stunned, and what stunned me more than anything was how I had visited this place so many times before and never seen them. That was because I had never been here at just this time of year. Last year when I first saw them I tried a monopod and didn’t get a very good shot of them so this year I used a tripod, but still didn’t get a very good shot of them. Next year waders?
I’m showing this close up from a few years ago, taken when I went to Distant Hill Gardens in Walpole, so you can see how beautiful they are. This encounter illustrates once again why it’s important for anyone interested in nature study to get out there every day, and to revisit the same places time and again. All of life is in a state of constant change and the best way to become aware of those changes is to simply pay attention.
Next year when I see native dogwoods and tall meadow rue blooming I’ll know that the orchids should also be blooming. Great spangled fritillary butterflies will appear, blueberries will start to ripen, and elderberries will start setting fruit at the same time the orchids bloom. Life is a circle, and when it’s time to see the orchids again I’ll know by watching for these and other signs. This isn’t anything new; it’s how nomadic peoples got to a place at just the right time to find food. Nature set the table but they had to provide the transportation. Get there at the right time and sleep with a full belly. Miss it and go hungry. Learn what signs to watch for and you’ll never miss out.
Anyhow, now I know that if I want to see rose pogonia orchids in bloom all I have to do is visit this spot when I see the swamp milkweeds and the other plants in this blog post starting to blossom. I’ll be there, because they’re such a rare and beautiful thing to see. If they aren’t disturbed they should be there for many years to come.
The dome of coolness above the pond throbs with croaking. Dragonflies and damselflies pierce the slanting light that burnishes the surface of the water with fire. At the edges frogs wait to spring. ~Grace Dane Mazur
In the last post I said that the plants I showed there weren’t the kind you would find just kicking around on the side of the road, but in this post these plants are exactly what you will find on the side of the road. They’re called weeds, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t beautiful. Just look at the crown vetch seen above. I’ve said here before that if I (as an engineer) were to design a flower, I couldn’t come up with one as simple, pure, and beautiful as this. It’s considered invasive now but it was originally imported to be used to stabilize embankments, and I see it still being used in that way today.
The crown vetch in the previous photo is a legume, in the same family as a pea or a bean, and you can tell that by the shape of the flower. I could bury us in botanical speak but the only thing to really know to identify a legume is that their flowers have a standard and a keel. The standard in this case is the half round part with the dark lines on it and the keel pokes out at us from the lower middle part of the standard. That’s really all you need to know to identify a legume when it is flowering. The reproductive parts are inside the boat shaped keel, and that’s why you see insects trying to pry it open. Sometimes “wings” can appear on either side of the keel, but not always. Just scroll back and forth between the crown vetch and bird’s foot trefoil and you’ll see that the flowers closely resemble each other.
Or, you can just ignore all of the above and simply enjoy them. My knowing what their names are and how they function doesn’t mean I can love them any more deeply than someone who knows nothing about them. In fact, carrying around a sack full of botanical baggage can at times get in the way of seeing a flower for what it truly is, which is simply one of the many ways that nature expresses itself.
Now come the lupines, which are also legumes. I’m not sure what has gotten into our lupines this year. I’ve never seen them stand so straight and tall. In the past this group, which grows on a roadside embankment, has been much shorter and almost deformed. It must be the rain. It’s easy to see what a year of below average rainfall is like when you have a year of average rainfall to compare it with. After two summers of drought this month we’ve had at least some rain for 22 out of 30 days, and though that’s above average we’re seeing plants respond well, without any symptoms of over watering. Historically, we average about an inch per week.
I like the crepe paper appearance of mallow petals but I don’t see them very often. I know of only two places where they grow beside the road. I know nothing about how they can grow wild in such a limited way, but I have a feeling the plants I know must be garden escapees. Other well-known plants in this family include hibiscus, hollyhocks, and rose of Sharon; all plants with large flowers like this plant has.
But this plant, a dwarf mallow, has flowers that are only about an inch across. I found a few plants growing near the foundation of an old mill building last year and though the maintenance man weed whacks the place regularly he can’t keep them down.
Though spreading dogbane doesn’t look like a milkweed it is in the same family and if you cut its stem you’ll see the same white, sticky sap come oozing out. Milkweeds are notorious for trapping unwary insects and I’ve seen plenty trapped by dogbane. The pretty little fragrant, pink striped flowers might be the diameter of an aspirin at their opening. Native Americans pounded the stems and made a strong thread from the tough fibers which they used to make nets for hunting rabbits, among other things. I find the plants growing in clearings and the shaded edges of forests. It prefers partial shade.
I like to see flowering grasses and I’ve admired them for many years but I didn’t recognize this one so I had to look it up. It’s called wheat grass and though I’m sure I must have seen it hundreds of times, it seems new to me. Its bright yellow flowers mean it stands out from any surrounding vegetation.
The name “Jack go to bed at noon” taught me to watch for goat’s beard flowers in the morning, because all you’ll find is closed buds in the afternoon. I can think of a few flowers that have similar quirks; marsh St. Johnswort won’t open unless it is in full sunshine, which is often about 3:00 pm. Goat’s beard isn’t really common here and I only know of one place to find it. The flowers are followed by huge, spherical seed heads that look like giant dandelion seed heads. They always seem cartoonish like a child’s drawing, and they make me smile.
Golden hop clover is another legume. It’s a small plant that might reach ankle high on a good day and, since bird’s foot trefoil blossoms at the same time, it’s an easy plant to miss. But the flowers make it worth taking a closer look; this one’s inner light was so bright it actually lit up the underside of the leaf beside it. This is another invasive plant that was imported on purpose in 1800 to be used as a pasture crop. It now appears in most states on the east and west coasts, and much of Canada, but it is not generally considered aggressively invasive. Each pretty yellow flower head is packed with golden yellow pea-like flowers. I see it growing close enough to roadsides to be run over, and in sandy waste areas as well.
Though some plants in the nightshade family are edible, others are highly poisonous. The bittersweet nightshade in the above photo falls somewhere in between. Even toxic plants can have medicinal value if used in a certain way and this one has been used since ancient times. These days it is used to treat ringworm, skin diseases and even asthma. If its flowers are pollinated the plant will have small, shiny, bright red berries that look like tiny Roma tomatoes in late summer, and they are why the plant can be dangerous. The berries at first taste bitter and are usually immediately spit out but if kept in the mouth before long their taste becomes sweet, and that’s where the name bittersweet comes from. I remember as a boy I could never get past the strange foul odor the plant has, so I was never tempted by its berries. Bruising it in any way releases this odor and it’s a real stinker, with an odor that can be detected from a few feet away.
As this arrowwood shows, viburnums are still blooming. But their time is almost done, just in time for the native dogwoods to start blooming. The simplest way to know which is which is to look closely at the flowers. Viburnum flowers have five petals and dogwoods have four petals. One thing distinctive about arrowwood that separates it from other viburnums is its leaf’s shape and shine. It is said that this plant’s common name comes from Native Americans using the straight stems for arrow shafts. They also used the shrub medicinally and its fruit as food.
I was just reading that insects prefer a single, rather than a double flower because they don’t have to work as hard to get at what they want, and after looking at a single rose I can believe it. A single flowered rose is defined as having four to eight petals per flower. A double flowered rose has seventeen to twenty five petals, according to the American Rose Society. This flower says “here I am” and there is hardly any work involved in getting at its reproductive parts. We have three native roses and a few others which are garden escapees, so roses are one of those flowers that are easy to stumble upon.
This particular bush had so many bumblebees on it they were bumping into my arms as I tried to get a shot of a flower and I remembered how my son as a boy of probably five or six, was convinced that bumblebees couldn’t sting. One day he caught one and closed his hand around it and found that they could indeed sting. Luckily on this day they were too busy to bother with me.
Multiflora rose is a common small flowered rose from China that is seen just about everywhere, and that’s because it is very invasive. Birds eat the small, bright red hips and plant it everywhere. I’ve seen it climb 30 feet up into trees but it doesn’t climb with tendrils like a grape, or by twining itself around trees like oriental bittersweet. It just winds its way through the branches of surrounding shrubs and trees and uses them to prop itself up. It’s all about getting the most sunlight, and this one is an expert at it.
Though multiflora rose is one of the most invasive plants we have in this part of the country it’s also highly fragrant and I’ve always loved smelling it as I walked along rail trails. You wouldn’t think that a flower only an inch across could pack so much scent but they do, and walking by a bush full of them in June is something you don’t forget right away. The trouble in controlling this rose comes by way of its very numerous, sharp thorns and extremely long branches. Cutting just one full grown plant and pulling all of its branches out of the surrounding vegetation can take the better part of a day, and then you still have to dig the stump. By the time you’re done you’ve almost filled a pickup truck. That’s just one plant, and there are many thousands of them. That’s a good reason to pull them when they’re just getting started. Late November after the leaves have fallen is the best time to do it. But not without gloves!
Partridgeberries are ground huggers; they couldn’t grow any closer to the ground than they do, so you’re always looking down at the flowers. Looking down you don’t see how hairy they are, so to see their hairiness as you see it in the photo you have to become a ground hugger too. The tiny flowers blossom in pairs and share a single ovary, so any time you find a pea size red berry on a ground hugging plant you can check to see if it’s a partridge berry by looking for two dimples. The dimples show where the flowers grew. If the berry has no dimples it is probably an American wintergreen berry, also called a teaberry, and its strong wintergreen scent should give it away. My favorite part of a partridge berry plant is its leaves, which look like hammered metal.
Heal all is recorded in the histories of several countries before travel was recorded, so nobody seems to agree on where it originated. The name heal all comes from the way that it has been used medicinally for centuries on nearly every continent to cure virtually any ailment one can name. It is also known as self-heal and is still used today for healing wounds, throat ailments, and inflammation. Several major universities are researching its possible use in the treatment of breast and liver cancer, diabetes, and other serious illnesses. Native Americans used the plant as a food and also medicinally, treating bruises, cuts, sore throats, and other ailments. I often find it in mowed lawns or along roadsides and I call them nature’s cheerleaders, because the small purple flowers always seem to be shouting Yay! Just look how happy they are; always smiling.
St. John’s wort gets its common name from the way that it flowers near June 24th, which is St. Johns day, and that’s just what it did this year. Originally from Europe, the two foot tall plants with bright yellow flower clusters can be found in meadows, waste places, and along roadsides, growing in full sun. Man has had a close relationship with the plant for thousands of years; the Roman military doctor Proscurides used it to treat patients as early as the 1st century AD, and it was used by the ancient Greeks before that. It is still used today to treat depression, sleeping disorders, anxiety, and other issues.
Sulfur cinquefoil is a rough looking, knee high plant that grows in waste places and on the edges of corn fields where few people ever go, but its heart shaped, butter yellow petals are quite beautiful, in my opinion. They have that deeper yellow center that always makes them seem to shine like the summer sun.
Flowers can come with some very powerful memories and one of the most powerful for me comes with black eyed Susans. My first thought as soon as I see it is “fall” no matter when it blooms, and that thought always seems to come with a touch of melancholy, especially when it comes in June. This year thanks to this plant I was thinking of fall even before summer had officially arrived. None of this means I don’t like the plant; I think its flowers are very pretty, especially those with a splash of maroon on the petals. I suppose if life wasn’t occasionally tinged with a little sadness then joy wouldn’t seem so precious, but someday I’m going to have to sit with this one and ask “why do you do this to me?’
Shy little wood sorrel barely reaches your boot tops and its pretty flowers often hide behind its leaves so you have to do a bit of hunting if you want to see them. Heavy rain had dirtied the face of this one a bit but we can still see its beautiful stripes and the yellow spot on each petal. I always have to smile when I see the spots because they look as if they were painted on as an afterthought, there only to attract insects. The plant likes shady, moist places. I’ve only found it in only two places so I couldn’t say it was common, but it’s out there.
Yarrow is a common roadside weed now considered by many to be the lowest of the low, but it was once so valuable it was traded throughout the world, and today it is found on almost every continent on earth. It is mentioned in the Chinese I Ching, which is said to pre date recorded history, and has been found in excavations of neanderthal graves. It was a valuable healing herb; one of the nine “holy herbs,” and was known as the soldier’s woundwort and herbe militaris for centuries; used even during the American civil war to stop the flow of blood. Native Americans knew it well and used it for everything from snake bites to deodorant. Once so highly prized throughout the known world by emperors, healers, and sages, today people don’t even pretend to try to not run it over when they park their cars on the roadside.
Roadside weeds aren’t special things or magic things, but they are things that can put just a little magic into everyday life and help make it a little more special. They ask for nothing but bring pleasure, and help us slow down so we can get our share of life’s beauty in full measure. There is more than enough to go around, so we might as well see all we can. Just walk along a roadside and see if they don’t put a smile on your face.
I almost forgot to include fireworks in honor of Independence Day. Nature’s fireworks that is, in the form of tall meadow rue. I’ve always thought that the orange tipped male flowers, which always appear on or near the 4th, looked just like exploding fireworks. I hope everyone who wants to, gets to see the real thing this year. It’s looking like a chance of showers here this year but as I remember it there was almost always a chance of showers when firework displays were involved.
Take the time to observe the simple and ponder upon the seemingly insignificant. You’ll find a wealth of depth and beauty. ~Melanie Charlene
Thanks for stopping in. I hope everyone has a safe and happy 4th!
I’m starting this post on aquatics with blue vervain (Verbena hastata,) only because I like its color. It isn’t a true aquatic but every time you find it there will be water very nearby. Blue vervain provides a virtual nectar bar for many species of bees including the verbena bee (Calliopsis verbenae.) Butterflies also love it. It likes wet soil and full sun and can reach 5 feet when it has both. I find it in wet ditches, on river banks and just about anywhere where the soil stays constantly moist.
Wild calla (Calla palustris) is also called water dragon or water arum, and it is a true aquatic. It is an arum like skunk cabbage or Jack in the pulpit, both of which also like wet places. I don’t know if I could say this plant is rare but it is certainly scarce in this area. It’s the kind of plant you have to hunt for, and you have to know its habits well to catch it in bloom. Like other arums its flowers appear on a spadix surrounded by a spathe. The spathe is the white leaf like part seen in the above photo. This plant is toxic and I’ve never seen any animal touch it.
I missed the tiny greenish white flowers this year. They grow along the small spadix and are followed by green berries which will ripen to bright red and will most likely be snapped up by a passing deer. This plant was in the green, unripe berry stage. One 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 blossoms is said to be very rank.
Pickerel weed is having a bad year and gone are the beautiful ribbons of blue flowers along the river’s banks. I’m not sure what is causing such a sparse bloom but I hope it rights itself because large masses of this plant in bloom can be truly spectacular.
One of the things that always surprises me about pickerel weed is its hairiness. I don’t expect that from a water plant. Its small blue / purple, tubular flowers on spikey flower heads will produce a fruit with a single seed. Once the flowers are pollinated and seeds have formed the flower stalk will bend over and drop the them into the water, where they will have to go through at least two months of cold weather before being able to germinate. If you see pickerel weed you can almost always expect the water it grows in to be relatively shallow and placid, though I’ve heard that plants occasionally grow in water that’s 6 feet deep.
I haven’t seen any berries yet but elderberries (Sambucus nigra canadensis) have bloomed well this year so we should have plenty. This is another plant that doesn’t grow in water but it grows as close as it can to keep its roots good and moist. This native shrub can get quite large and its mounded shape and flattish, off white flower heads make it very easy to identify, even from a distance.
A floating plant that is attached by roots to the pond or lake bottom is an aquatic, and that description fits floating hearts (Nyphoides cordata) perfectly. Floating hearts have small, heart-shaped, greenish or reddish to purple leaves that are about an inch and a half wide, and that’s where their common name comes from. The tiny but very pretty flowers are about the size of a common aspirin and resemble the much larger fragrant white water lily blossom. They grow in bogs, ponds, slow streams, and rivers. This flower was having trouble staying above water because it had rained and the water level had risen.
Forget me nots are not an aquatic plant but I keep finding them in very wet places. This one grew right at the edge of a pond so its roots must have been at least partially in water. The ground they grew in was also so saturated my knees got wet taking this photo. Many plants that are thought of as terrestrial are able to tolerate submersion in water and can live where they’re exposed regularly to water and from what I’ve seen, this is one of them.
Water lobelia (Lobelia dortmanna) is probably the rarest of all the aquatics that grow in this area. I still know of only one pond it grows in and there are only a handful of them there. I’ve read that the plant has the unusual ability of removing carbon dioxide from the rooting zone rather than from the atmosphere. It is said to be an indicator of infertile and relatively pristine shoreline wetlands. This year I saw only 4 or 5 plants in a small group. The small, pale blue or sometimes white flowers are less than a half inch long and not very showy. They have 5 sepals and the base of the 5 petals is fused into a tube. The 2 shorter upper petals fold up. I’ve read that the flowers can bloom and set seed even under water. True aquatic plants are plants that have adapted to living in aquatic environments (saltwater or freshwater) and this one has adapted well.
I saw a strange looking bubble which had ripples coming from it, as if it were moving. It was in a pond, just off shore.
Of course if you go looking for aquatic plants, you’re going to see dragonflies like this widow skimmer.
I’m also seeing lots of what I think are spangled skimmers this year. On this day all of them were watching the water.
Pipewort plants (Eriocaulon aquaticum) are also called hatpins, and this photo shows why perfectly. Pipewort plants have basal leaves growing at the base of each stem and the leaves are usually underwater, but falling water levels had exposed them here. Interestingly, this photo also shows the size difference between a floating heart, which is there in the center, and a standard water lily leaf, which you can just see in the top left. Floating hearts are tiny in comparison.
Pipewort stems have a twist and 7 ridges, and for those reasons it is called seven angle pipewort. The quarter inch diameter flower head that sits atop the stem is made up of minuscule white, cottony flowers. I think it’s interesting how their leaves can photosynthesize under water.
Sometimes it doesn’t matter if there are any flowers in view. The light is enough.
I saw what I thought was a pretty clump of grass right at the very edge of the river bank but when I looked closer, I saw that it wasn’t any grass that I had ever seen before and I think it is reed sweet-grass(Glyceria maxima,) which is invasive. It is native to Europe and Western Siberia and is a semi-aquatic, perennial grass with unbranched stems that get up to 8’ tall. There is a reddish tint on the lower parts of the stems. This plant towered up over my head but I can’t swear it had red on the stems because I have trouble seeing red. Reed sweet-grass invades wetlands and crowds out natives, and is not suitable for nesting. It is also a poor food source for our native wildlife.
Meadowsweet (Spirea alba) grows in the form of a small shrub and is in the spirea family, which its flowers clearly show with their many fuzzy stamens. It’s a common plant that I almost always find near water.
Meadowsweet flowers are fragrant and have a sort of almond-like scent. A close look shows that clearly, they belong in the spirea family. Before long their pretty purple cousins the steeple bushes will come along.
In my opinion swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) is the most beautiful milkweed of all. It grows onshore but a few yards away from the water’s edge on land that rarely floods. Many insects were visiting it on this day. I know of only a single plant now, so I hope it produces plenty of seeds. The flowerheads always remind me of millefiori glass paperweights.
Swamp candles (Lysimachia terrestris) are not true aquatics but they do grow close enough to water to have their roots occasionally flooded. They are common along the edges of ponds and wetlands at this time of year. Their name comes from the way their bright color lights up a swamp, just as they did here.
Swamp candles have a club shaped flower head (raceme) made up of 5 petaled yellow flowers. Each yellow petal of a swamp candle flower has two red dots at its base that help form a ring of ten red dots around the five long stamens in the center of the flower. The petals are also often streaked with red and this is common among the yellow loosestrifes. Reddish bulbets will sometimes grow in the leaf axils. I’ve read that our native yellow loosestrifes were thought to have soothing powers over animals so people would tie the flowers to the yoke of oxen to make them easier to handle.
Pretty little sheep laurel (Kalmia angustifolia) will sometime grow in standing water but only when it rains and the water level rises. By choice they live right at the water’s edge. On the day I saw these I saw thousands of flowers blooming on the banks of a pond.
Here is a closer look at the flowers. Sheep laurel is part of the Kalmia clan, which in turn is part of the very large heath family, which includes rhododendrons, blueberries and many other plants. I know of only three Kalmias here and they are Mountain, Sheep and Bog laurel. The flowers of all three, though different in size and color, have ten spring loaded anthers which release when a heavy enough insect lands on the flower. It then gets dusted with pollen and goes on its way.
You can always tell that you’ve found one of the three Kalmias by looking at the outside of the flower. If it has ten bumps like those seen here you have found one of the laurels. Each bump is a tiny pocket that the tip of an anther fits into. If the flowers are anything but white it is either a sheep or bog laurel. If the flowers are white it’s a mountain laurel, though I’ve seen mountain laurels with pink flowers in gardens for the first time this year.
Fragrant white water lilies (Nymphaea odorata) are having a good year, I’m happy to say. They’re one of our most beautiful native aquatics. If you could get your nose into one you might smell something similar to honeydew melon or cantaloupe, but getting your nose into one is the tricky part.
I went to a local pond and saw what I thought were two-foot-tall white flowers on an island offshore. The pickerel weeds growing near the island told me the water could be up to six feet deep, so I certainly couldn’t wade out to them. My only choice was the zoom on my beaten-up old camera so I put it on the monopod and gave it a shot. When I looked at the photo I was stunned to see that the flowers weren’t white, they were pink. That was because they were rose pogonia orchids (Pogonia ophioglossoides,) a most rare and beautiful flower that I had been searching for in the wild for probably twenty years. And here they were, at a pond I had visited a hundred times. Why had I not seen them before? Because I had never come to this exact spot on the shore at this exact time of year before. That’s how easy it is to miss seeing one of the most beautiful flowers found in nature in bloom.
I’m sorry these are such poor photos but if you just Google “Rose Pogonia” you will see them in all their glory. This is a fine example of why, once you’ve started exploring and studying nature you feel that you really should keep at it, because you quickly learn that right around that next bend in the trail could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. I hope you have found that this is true in your own walks through nature.
Away from the tumult of motor and mill I want to be care-free; I want to be still! I’m weary of doing things; weary of words I want to be one with the blossoms and birds. ~Edgar A. Guest
New Hampshire Garden Solutions 