Wildflowers race for the sun

I was able to check on the wildflowers today. Our weather has remained cool, with temperatures down below freezing every night this week. But the early spring wildflowers are persistent.

I dare say that most people would still think the forest bare. One must look closely to see these tiny and scattered wildflowers. Once you see them, you begin to realize that early wildflowers are blooming all around, whether we're watching or not. Soon the forest floor will be carpeted green as the spring ephemerals race to bloom and set seed before the canopy above leafs out and plunges the forest floor into perpetual twilight.

Thanks to an enthusiastic friend, I am paying more attention to Hepatica this year. I think I noticed the purple leaves, but I don't think I even noticed them blooming last year (though I'm sure they did). This year I am watching the Hepatica as closely as I can, even to the individual plant.

So far as I know, there is only one small population of Hepatica in our woods. This plant doesn't normally grow in the Nashville area, seeming to prefer areas like the mountains of east Tennessee and the Cumberland Plateau. This population of Hepatica seems to be thin and scattered, a plant here, another there. I think these Hepaticas must be on the frontiers of their home country, outliers, if you will.

Most spring ephemerals are perennials that send up leaves and flowers quickly as the earth warms and sunlight is still available before the forest canopy closes. Once the trees overhead leaf out, the ephemerals turn yellow and fade away, retreating to their root-stock underground until next spring. The spring wildflowers are done and gone almost as quickly as they arrived.

Hepatica nobilis

From my reading I find that Hepatica has developed a unique strategy to get an early start. Rather than make its new leaves first, Hepatica has leaves from last year that overwinter in the leaf litter. Though worn and tattered, the leaf takes in the earliest rays of spring and helps the plant send up flowers as early as possible. It is only after the plant has flowered and gone to seed that Hepatica then spends the additional energy to make new leaves and go into the full-time business of photosynthesis. These leaves are adapted to the dim summer forest floor, and they persist through the summer, fall, and winter, until next spring. Nature reminds us that there is usually more than one way to solve a problem, and sometimes being an oddball has its advantages.

Hepatica 

Below are a few more photographs that I snapped today. The Birdseye Speedwell and Purple Dead Nettle were in the front yard, and the Toothwort and Corydalis were in the woods. The bottom photo is just what I thought an interesting view of the forest. It also shows how the forest floor still appears to be mostly covered with last year's autumn leaves.

Birdseye Speedwell (Veronica persica) and
Purple Dead Nettle (Lamium purpureum)

Purple Dead Nettle (Lamium purpureum)

Purple Dead Nettle (Lamium purpureum)

Yellow Corydalis (Corydalis flavula)

Cutleaf Toothwort
(Cardamine concatenata)

Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concatenata)

Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida) and
American Beech (Fagus grandifolia)

It is a lichen day

I regret that I will not be able to spend any time walking in the woods today. Even though it's raining, these dripping wet days have their own appeal. These rainy days bring a lush health to the forest. To use Thoreau's phrase, it is a lichen day.

"A thick fog. The trees and woods look well through it. You are inclined to walk in the woods for objects. They are draped with mist, and you hear the sound of it dripping from them. It is a lichen day. Not a bit of rotten wood lies on the dead leaves, but it is covered with fresh, green cup lichens, etc., etc. All the world seems a great lichen and to grow like one to-day,—a sudden humid growth."  Henry David Thoreau's Journal, Feb. 5, 1853

What's not to like? It is a lichen day. Let the forest rejoice!

Late winter snow

I would dearly love to be in the woods today taking pictures of the snow-covered trees and wildflowers in the snow. It was so pretty on the trees when I left the house just after dark this morning. I had just enough time to grab a couple of quick shots from the back porch. Unfortunately, I am consigned to a full day of working indoors. Maybe I'll be able to get outside tomorrow. Maybe some snow will remain. Timing is everything.

Here are a couple of shots I grabbed before leaving the house this morning.

Woods in snow from our back porch

Trailhead in snow

Wet wildflowers on a cold, gray day

With snow showers and temperatures just above freezing, today was mostly just cold, gray, and wet. Nonetheless, I just got a new camera and was dying to try it out. Luckily, the camera is a weatherproof Nikon Coolpix AW-100. My walk in the hollow brought me cold hands, muddy knees, and these pictures. If you want to see more detail, clicking on any of the pictures will open up a much larger version. Except for Harbinger-of-Spring, which seems oblivious to the cold, all the flowers I saw today were closed shut to endure the cold.

Harbinger-of-Spring (Erigenia bulbosa)

Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concatenata)

Cutleaf Toothwort, Harbinger-of-Spring, and remnants of
Beechdrops (Epifagus virginiana) from last September

Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concatenata)

Hepatica - first bloom of the Spring. I am so happy
to have discovered that we have Hepatica in our hollow.

Wildflower report

Observed in the forest today:

• Harbinger-of-Spring (Erigenia bulbosa) - common and widespread
• Cutleaf Toothwort (Cardamine concatenata) - a few beginning to bloom
• Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica) - a few beginning to bloom
• Yellow Corydalis (Corydalis flavula) - saw one plant in bloom in a sunny area
• Hepatica - found 2 plants with developing but unopened blooms

Hepatica with unopened bloom

Waiting for spring

Spring. I watch and I wait and look for every little sign. Suddenly the signs are clear. The start of the season has slipped by unnoticed once again. Not waiting for me, the party is already going full force even in cold weather.

"No mortal is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of the spring, but he will presently discover some evidence that vegetation had awaked some days at least before." -- Henry David Thoreau, Journal, March 17, 1857.

Snowfall

There was a small snowfall in the hollow overnight. Before dawn, the sight of moonlight on snow was so beautiful and peaceful. These early morning pictures were taken before the sun had risen above the eastern ridge of the hollow.

Remembering Dr Yates

Dr Oliver Yates

Today I am thankful for the life of Dr. Oliver Yates and his influence on me as a biology student at David Lipscomb College (now University) in the early 1980s. Dr. Yates passed away at the age of 79 last Thursday. Although I never went on to a career in science, I will probably never know fully the extent of his influence and encouragement. His enthusiasm and curiosity were as infectious as his demand for a student's best work was unrelenting.

He is best known for his Cell Biology class, but my favorite class ever at Lipscomb was Spring Wildflowers, taught by Dr. Yates every other year. The course could have rightly been named "Taxonomy and Classification of Spring Ephemerals with Special Emphasis on the Forest Communities in Middle Tennessee." But that wasn't his style. His way was to make learning fun, and then teach you more than you knew possible once you were sucked in. What could be more fun and carefree than a class called Spring Wildflowers? (Incidentally, in the alternate years, he taught a similar course called Algae, which was almost as much fun but required taking samples back to the lab for identification.)

Our main text

I enjoyed the Spring Wildflower class so much that I basically took it twice. After taking it first in 1981, Dr. Yates allowed me to join class field trips when it was offered again in 1983. He also guided me through independent studies describing the plant life of cedar glade communities in middle Tennessee. I have many fond memories of tramping the woods and hills with Dr. Yates and his other students as he sought to show us how to use complex taxonomic keys and make meticulous notes of what we had seen. In my memory it seems like the class spent just as much time in the field as did in the classroom. I remember how he demanded that our field notebooks be as detailed as humanly possible. I remember how he would never just name a plant that we asked him about, but would insist that we work through the taxonomic key to find the identification ourselves. I remember the whole class encircled round a yellow dandelion working through the key in our wildflower guide until we came up with the correct identification. I remember how he magically led us to see the rare showy pink orchid known as Moccasin Flower or Pink Ladyslipper (Cypripedium acaule) in the Smokey Mountains. I remember Dr Yates and his wife, Betty, always seeking out the elusive Little Brown Jug (Hexastylis arifolia), a non-showy, but cute little brown wildflower that is all too easy to overlook. I remember fishing for turtles in the Tennessee River just so that we could study an algae that is only known to grow on the backs of turtles. I think his main reason for that exercise was so that we could see the wondrous diversity of life and be amazed. I remember him looking up from a microscope in amazement one time and rhetorically asking those around him, "how can you not believe there is a God when you're looking at something like this?"

Before coming to Lipscomb I had always loved being in nature. Reading people like Henry David Thoreau, Rachel Carson, and Lewis Thomas, I understood that studying life could and should leave us gawking in amazement. The world is an incredibly complex and beautiful place. Walking the woods with Oliver Yates, I got to see this scientific amazement firsthand. Dr. Yates' curiosity and sense of wonder became a part of me and I am grateful.

Linked here is a remembrance of Dr. Yates on the Lipscomb University website:
Yates remembered for impacting lives of hundreds of pre-med students.

Pink Ladyslipper, King's Point on Basswood Lake, Ontario

Sauntering through the hollow

Surrendering to the nasty weather this morning, I was prepared to spend the entire day indoors. The rain stopped in the afternoon, however, and I decided to go for a walk, which soon turned into saunter. I left the dog in the house, and walked quietly and slowly around our trail. Sometimes you can see more by going slowly. I spent more time deliberately looking at the small and subtle things. For about 60 seconds of the walk I was treated to the sound of two Barred Owls calling to each other (see video below on Barred Owls).

It was just a simple walk, but it left me wandering in wonder.

Beech leaves wearing thin as the winter progresses

Moss reclaiming a beech stump

Hepatica leaves

Old sycamore and young beech

Grizzled wanderer

Mysterious neighbors

I love it that we share these woods with Barred Owls. These beautiful and mysterious birds never cease to fill me with  wonder. This video from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology has very good examples of their amazing calls. Check it out. Then imagine it's dark and you're walking alone in the woods when you hear this.

Cozy and thankful

Safe and warm in the ice cold rain. This is the kind of day that makes me thankful for good shelter. I think most of us take it too much for granted.

Right now it is 32ºF and raining steadily. This morning has been hot maple oatmeal, coffee, and Thoreau. Later today I'll make a pot of chili for our dinner and make a fire in the fireplace.

Winter sanctuary

A clear gibbous moon climbs the eastern sky.
They say by morning an ice storm may fill our forest hollow with winter.

But we do not fear the cold.

A slow fire burns in the fireplace,
homemade vegetable soup simmers on the stove,
and we are warm,
tucked in for the night,
feeling peaceful and safe
in the care of the Keeper of the night.

All is well.

Walden retreat

I'm not sure why, but I would love to build one of these at the edge of our woods some day. It's a replica of the house that Thoreau built at Walden Pond in 1845. I think I'm just drawn to the simplicity that it represents. Maybe some day.

Thoreau's house at Walden

Late afternoon in the tree tops

Today woodpeckers share the trees with the moon.

Seemingly out of place in the blue daylight,
a pale waxing gibbous moon rises above the eastern ridge,
looking for all the world like a small cloud through the branches.

A Red-bellied Woodpecker moves from tree to tree,
flashing red and disappearing,
ceaselessly scratching, pecking, hunting for a morsel of insect.

From somewhere further up the hollow,
a Pileated Woodpecker announces himself,
and the shadows grow steadily longer in the afternoon light.

Reading and walking

Sometimes I like to read, and other times I prefer to go for a walk in the woods. If I am torn between the two, I almost always go for a walk. I do love books. In fact, my view is that if something is worth doing well, then it is worth purchasing and reading a book about that subject. But I also must say that if the choice were a year without nature or a year without books, I'm afraid I would have to tell my library goodbye. Of course the best would be reading a book about nature in between walks in the woods.