Lots of Elderberry Bushes (Sambucus canadensis) are in bloom up here in the mountains. On a trip to Florida in early May, I saw many in bloom down there along the roadways, making me feel at home. Now I’ve got Elderberries blooming at the edge of the woods outside my cabin too thanks to Saint Isidore Homestead & Permaculture at the Greene Farmer’s Market.
Many species of bees, flies and beetles collect pollen from the Elderberry blooms and a couple species of bees build nests for their larvae in the bushes. Lots of birds eat the berries including the Eastern Bluebird, Northern Cardinal, Catbird, Mockingbird, Robin, House Finch, Wood Thrush, Red-eyed Vireo, Cedar Waxwing, and White-throated Sparrow.
Keep in mind if you’re interested in eating the berries (drupes) of the Elderberry Bush, they are poisonous unless cooked, then they are safe to eat.
I’m watching both the progress the blueberry blooms are making as well as the calendar. Watching the blossoms grow and mature. Watching the weeks go by on the calendar. Right now in early April there are only tight buds on the many bushes.
And it’s hard to say since this is weather related and as we all know the weather can be extremely capricious. Hard to say when the blooms will be open.
Hard to say when the butterflies and bees will be called to the blueberry flowers. Called by the nectar and pollen. Called to pollinate the blooms that will become delicious morsels of goodness.
It will seem like forever to me. Going from compact buds to petite orbs. Forever and still not exactly what I’m waiting for.
Slowly slowly those petite orbs will swell. And go from apple green to a lavender blush to finally deep blue. But I’ve learned over the years I can’t be too quick. Those first berries looking so luscious blue are still lavender blush on the other side. The far side hidden and waiting to fool me. Be patient. They will turn totally inky blue with a white bloom with time. That’s what it’s all about. Patience and waiting.
I’ll be waiting. All this time. Waiting to pull out simple ingredients.
Waiting to turn those berries, those luscious inky blue with white bloom berries into blueberry pies. Other things too, but oh those pies!
Such great fortune to have Mother Nature as my landscape architect up here in the mountains. She provides me with such wondrous plants to enjoy. Like native Golden Ragwort (Packera aurea). I just have to help her out with things such as the removal of exotic species invasives. Which I have to admit is not at all a small price.
While reestablishing a long abandoned trail in the woods I’ve come upon an impressive expanse of Golden Ragwort. Needing to get from one side of it to the other I found myself apologizing to the plants I was tiptoeing across. I can only imagine the wonderful sight they will be when they are in bloom.
Right now they’re in bud. Quite fancy, even at this early stage. They’ll mature from a deep rich purple to a yummy luminous yellow. Those yellow blooms perched upon flowering stalks perhaps as much as two feet tall.
If you’d like to plant Golden Ragwort in your formal garden it grows well in mesic to wet soils in sunny to shady locations. It’s a plant that will outcompete many weeds that will show up and I wouldn’t suggest it be in a garden with bashful plants who will be lost in the shuffle.
Many of you know that I love winter, my totally, over the top, favorite season. But I also delight in the seasons changing. If the seasons stayed the same, day after day after day after day I wouldn’t be content. I think the world of CHANGE.
Sometimes even Mother Nature just doesn’t want to let go. To let the seasons do their things. And she brings us surprises. These images are from April 15, 2020. I think this was one of those times when she felt, if nothing else, mischievous.
For the winter lover in me, I’m certainly at an advantage being at a slightly higher elevation than those in the lowlands of Virginia. Mountains have their benefits. That elevation helps create snow, when otherwise there might not be any. For sure it was the case on this day.
Blooms of Redbud (Cercis canadensis), and Flowering Dogwood (Cornus florida), and new unfurling fronds of Christmas Fern (Polystichum acrostichoides) all got dumped on with a fair amount of wet snow. But they are native plants and can take what is dished out.
A few hours of sunshine and things were back to normal. And we all were quite content.
One week later, another native plant, Dwarf Crested Iris (Iris cristata), was up and blooming as if it was a perfectly normal spring.
It’s hard for me to believe since I’ve still got snow on the ground, but spring is nearly here. At least meteorological spring. It arrives on March 1. The weather here is assuredly unpredictable. We’ll see what the month of March brings forth. Spring or more winter? But plants will be sprouting no matter. One of the plants I expect will greet me later in March is Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis). A plant that’s native to eastern North America.
Take care when you’re out hiking, particularly when you aren’t on a well established trail. These little first sprouts of spring are not necessarily obvious.
Bloodroot emerges from the soil, stem carefully wrapped in a deeply veined dark purply leaf.
As the bud grows the leaf unfurls and turns to a rich green with a silvery-green ventral side. With each flower there is a single deeply lobed basal leaf. A leaf with five to seven lobes that grows to be three to five inches across.
The flower is a burst of eight to sixteen snow white petals centered with an oval yellow-green pistil which is topped by a pale yellow stigma. The pistil is surrounded by bunches of stamens with glowing yellow anthers. The blooms don’t provide any nectar but the pollen on the anthers brings bees, flies and beetles that pollinate the flowers.
And that pollination allows the seed pod to expand. Filling with seeds that have appendages called elaiosomes. Ants bring those seeds to their larvae. The larvae is fed the elaiosomes and the still intact seeds are discarded to the nest’s “trash room” which is the perfect place to start these seeds growing. This process which happens in many cases throughout the plant world is called myrmecochory. A weird/fun word which has become one of my favorites.
The cold temperatures of winter can create such works of wonder. Often so delicate they can’t be touched for fear of destruction.
Occasionally the beauty makes me forget that what I am looking at, such as these rose hips of Multiflora Rose (Rosa multiflora), is something that I work diligently to rid my woods of. A very aggressive invasive that has the nerve to mimic our native blackberries during their times of blooming. But frosted during the cold of winter it has its charm. AND take a look at that image again. There is an undulating line of frost that starts on the left, about 1/4 of the way down that goes to the right, from that first rose hip, on to the second and then the third as it drops and then ends. THAT is a spider web also decorated with frostiness.
The berries of Smooth Sumac (Rhus glabra) with its frost rivals ANY image of a Cardinal in the snow. Glorious red with stark white. Perfection.
With the hoarfrost the needles of Virginia Pine (Pinus virginiana) each get their own personal set of needles.
The leaves of young White Oak (Quercus alba) don’t drop as most deciduous leaves do in the fall, but hang onto them until late spring. That gives them the chance to be dressed up. To be decorated by the spines of ice. The artwork of Mother Nature.
Jeffersonia (Jeffersonia diphylla). In 1792 the botanist Benjamin Smith Barton named this plant after Thomas Jefferson. In 1807 Jefferson had Jeffersonia growing in one of the oval flower beds of Monticello. I’m proud to have something in common with my neighbor Thomas.
Within a matter of four weeks I’ll be searching for these little signs of life. Hints of spring sprouting up from the garden’s soil.
It took missing the arrival of Jeffersonia for a few springs before I etched into my memory to be on the alert. They arrive when there is still snow around. In my gardens generally mid to late March.
Jeffersonia is native to eastern North America but is listed as a threatened or endangered plant in Georgia, Iowa, New York, and New Jersey because of habitat destruction and invasive species.
The flower of Jeffersonia is atop a bare stalk. It’s composed of eight white petals which as a bud were protected by four sepals. Two of those fading sepals can be seen here drooping below the flower, a washed out pale purple with a slight hint of green.
The petals surround yellowish stamens and in the center a green ovary. Quite the fleeting bloom, the petals fall after just a couple days.
A common name for Jeffersonia, Twinleaf, comes from the shape of the leaf. Open butterfly wings. Each pair, one leaf nearly split in two.
The flowers as they decline produce a fruit. A fruit that brings a smile to my heart. Is it a fruit or actually a smiley outer space alien?
The seeds inside this capsule each have an appendage called an elaiosome which attract ants with its lipids and proteins. The ants carry the seeds to their underground nest where the elaisomes are fed to their larvae. After the feeding, the seeds are discarded in the ant’s nest to their “trash room.” The perfect place for seeds to grow. ANT FARMERS! If you would like to add a fancy word to your vocabulary, this whole process of “ant farming” is called myrmecochory.
I love Yucca flowers. There are 2 different yucca species growing in my yard, each blooming in a different season. Yucca filamentosa, which is native to Virginia, blooms in early summer. And this one, Yucca gloriosa, native to extreme southeastern Virginia, blooms in early autumn.
Remarkable that they both are native to this state, since I wasn’t aware of the yucca plant until I moved to New Mexico many years ago. The blooms attract moths, butterflies, bees and hummingbirds. For me the blooms represent special memories of a beautiful state.
This morning finds me at the yoga studio early. Frost covering much of the world down here in the lowlands. I take the opportunity to capture the beautiful dusting on Purple Dead-nettle (Lamium purpureum).
A photo from another day, you can see how it becomes a ground cover.
Though a native to Europe and Asia it can be found covering whole fields, creating a purple sea here in Virginia right about now.
