Buds – Page 2 – Tendrils

Spicebush

As the woods are shutting down this fall, there is fruit to be had. Fruit for many birds and small mammals. Fruit for the adventuresome human as well.

These are the berries (also known as drupes) of Spicebush, Lindera benzoin. Berries that turn a brilliant scarlet in September, when the leaves are still a lovely contrast. A contrast, of emerald green. The leaves and twigs, if rubbed in your hands, will give off a pleasant, spicy fragrance. For those adventuresome humans I mentioned, the leaves and twigs can be used to make a tea. The berries can be dried and crushed to be used as a spice. While out today, my curiosity got the best of me. This afternoon I tasted some of the berries. I have to report that I was not impressed. Not unpleasant, but nothing to write home about either.

By late October, the leaves that once were emerald, are now a shining yellow, glowing in the forest. Calling attention to the shrub, wherever it grows. It grows in moist, shady locations, but if it is given just a tiny bit of sun, more berries will be produced.

As the shining yellow leaves drop to the forest floor, it’s easier to see the bark of the small trunks of the shrub. Small trunks that are speckled, as if a pretzel. A pretzel that is the wrong color. A soft grayish brown pretzel.

What is left behind, after the leaves have fallen, is a vision of what is to come. Buds that will wait out the winter.

Buds that will be some of the first awakenings of spring. Buds that paint the woods, in early April, a soft butter yellow. A soft wash that stirs my curiosity.

Buds that become blossoms. Blossoms that open before there are any thoughts of leaves. Blossoms of butter yellow in the black, gray and brown woods. No hint of any green.

Blossoms that resemble Sassafras blooms, but arrive a couple weeks earlier. Blossoms that will become berries on the female shrubs. The Spicebush is a shrub that is either male or female (the term for this is dioecious). The berries are only produced on the female shrubs. Berries that will again appear on the shrubs, as summer turns to fall. As the woods are shutting down.

Sassafras

You know the question, If you were a tree, what tree would you be? My quick answer would be, a sassafras tree. I’ve had a cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, in Virginia, since 1992. During that time I’ve hiked my mountain up and down, getting to know all the things that grow here. I love them all, but the sassafras speaks to me. Speaks to me more than any other tree.

I’ll introduce you to the sassafras trees that I know here on the mountain. I’ll start with this season. Autumn. I am a color person. Color is extremely important to me. The sassafras celebrates autumn with splendid colors. Its rich green leaves, fading into lime green, butter yellow, school bus yellow, as the chlorophyll in its leaves fades away.

But that is just the beginning. The sassafras becomes a multicolored fiesta in autumn. Rust red, burgundy and many a shade of orange appear.

These leaves, like the twigs, bark and roots, all have the fragrance of root beer. Perfect timing: as I write this, my husband brings me an icy mug of root beer. Mmm! It takes me back to my childhood.

As I reminisce, I recall that sassafras oil has been determined to contain a carcinogenic substance, safrole. Root beer no longer contains safrole. You would be wise not to dig the roots of sassafras, to use as a root beer flavoring, or to make tea, as I did as a child. That lovely aroma, sure brings the memories back. But let’s be safe.

As the leaves fall, the intricate texture of the bark becomes my focus. And the color of the bark, just below the surface. A rich, cinnamon red-brown. Looking, just the right color, to match that childhood memories aroma. The bark, a lovely lacework of ridges, undulating this way and that.

And, like the bark, the trunks of the sassafras trees appear to dance through the forest. Like the bark pattern, bending this way and that. Winter is a favorite season for me. It reveals the trees’ structure. The trees’ form. Sassafras trees bend and sway, even in standing still.

Time flies and the sassafras trees’ buds are waiting for the first of the slightly warm days. At the beginning of April, they begin swelling and by the third week of April, here on Snow Mountain, the woods are filled with flowers.

Not much for show, but still beautiful to me. There is a soft, butter yellow haze in the woods. The flowers arrive before the leaves.

Now I am going to tell you a secret. As fond of sassafras, as I am, I had never seen sassafras drupes (one seeded fruit), until this summer. On finding some, I was amazed at their unusual look. Patriotic red and blue.

And yet, I understood why I had not seen them before. The leaves provide a perfect hiding place for the drupes. So much so, that it was a challenge to get a photograph to show you.

The drupes are popular with many birds and once they are gone, their receptacles are still attractive. Crimson against the green leaves.

Lovely sassafras has a weakness, if you are going to plant a few in your garden. If you are in an area prone to problems with Japanese Beetles, beware. Japanese Beetles really enjoy Sassafras leaves. Fortunately for me, my woods are my gardens. They are filled with Sassafras. A Japanese Beetle chomped away on this leaf, but there are still many, many more untouched.

But with that attractiveness to Japanese Beetles, it certainly has its strengths as well. Another critter that eats the sassafras leaf, is the caterpillar of Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. I consider that a big plus. Along with its beauty, it tolerates clay soils, and drought. Deer, and gypsy moth caterpillars will go for other things to eat, before they chomp on sassafras.

Once I became acquainted with the trees on the mountain, I realized that sassafras trees can grow to be quite large. Up to about 60 feet in height. They are most often seen as the understory shrub though.

Allelopathic is a term used to describe a characteristic of sassafras. That means the tree releases a chemical that hinders the health of some plants living around the sassafras. American elm is one of the trees that is affected by this chemical. This is a defense for the sassafras, eliminating some of its competition.

I am very fortunate being here in the woods. Sassafras trees come up as volunteers all over. I love it!

Blackberry Lily

I like rich, strong, take no prisoners color. In my garden there is one flower that really fills the bill. It is Blackberry Lily, or Leopard Lily, Iris domestica.

Here, a candelabra of spent flowers, having a twisted appearance, and buds ready to burst, on the naked stem of the Blackberry Lily.

Once open, the petals turn into a spinning ballerina out on the dance floor.

Though I try to favor native plants in my garden, this one is originally from central Asia, India, China and Japan. But it does seem, that this gorgeous, very easy to grow flower, has been on this continent forever. At least for a long time. Thomas Jefferson planted Blackberry Lily in his Monticello gardens. So I am in good company.

Once the flowering is completed, the seed pods develop into blackberry look-alikes. Sprinkle the seeds where you would like more to sprout, or let Mother Nature have her hand at placement. I like to have a say at where they end up, but I like the surprises that always happen.

Seeds Planted by Ants

Large-flowered Trillium, *Trillium grandiflorum*, a native wildflower which benefits from seed dispersal by ants

What an amusing thought. Seeds that ants will harvest and then plant. It actually does happen. There are some seeds in our world of Nature that have fleshy parts, called elaiosomes. These elaiosomes are lipid-rich and are very attractive to ants. The ants harvest the seeds, take them to their underground homes and feed the elaiosomes to their larvae. The leftover part of the seed is then discarded, to the ants’ underground trashroom which contains nutrient rich soil, a perfect place for these wildflower seeds to be planted. This process, of seed dispersal by ants is called Myrmecochory. There are some 3,000 plant species on our planet which benefit from this interaction with ants. This is mutually beneficial to the ant and to the plant. It is obvious that this is a benefit to the ant. The ants are getting food for their larvae. For the plant, the seed dispersal lessens competition between the parent plant and its seedlings, provides protection for the seeds from predation, and provides excellent soil conditions for seedling growth.

This spring, I’ve run into several native wildflowers which are part of this ant/plant interaction.

Take a walk with me, and I’ll show you a few of them:

Twin Leaf has cool leaves Twin leaves which look like butterflies to me

Bloodroot, *Sanguinaria canadensis*, just emerging from the forest soil

Bloodroot, with a blush of pink, the flower not yet open

These are just a few of the plants that benefit from seed dispersal by ants. I just happened to stumble upon them during hikes on my mountain. There must be many more here. I’ll let you know when I find more.

Pink Fog

Perhaps spring is here. Though the forecast for this coming Tuesday (the day this will be published) is for more snow.

My Redbuds, Cercis canadensis, here in the mountains of central Virginia are just now showing the slightest signs, of thoughts of blooms. This picture, above, was taken 5 days ago, while our newest, 8 inches of snow, were still festooning tree branches. Buds with just a hint of swelling.

In what will seem like, less time than the blink of an eye, my Redbuds will be sprouting their pinkish-purple blossoms. Sprouting blossoms that will be pollinated by long-tongued bees. Sprouting from buds along its zigzag branches, and sometimes even from the trunk of the tree itself.

The trunk, with its sprouting buds, is often twisted, looking as if it is participating in a yoga class.

To my eyes, which are even now, just awakening from a black and white, monotoned winter, the color will be dazzling! Along with tiny bits of apple green, there will be a flooding of the softest of magenta, in the just coming alive forest. It will appear to be a pink watercolor wash, over nearly everything.

At this point in the emergence of spring, on rare occasions, an event might happen if I am lucky. Pink Fog. The right temperatures, the right humidity and the sun doing its best to filter through all the Redbud blooms and PRESTO! Pink Fog! Beautiful!

For about one week, during this unfurling of spring, there will be an overlapping of blooms. Redbuds on the decline, and another native tree, the Flowering Dogwood, Cornus florida, just coming into bloom, contrasting their pink, and bright, snow white petals.

While the forests are having their pink and white dance, the Redbud flowers will be aging. Redbud leaves will be pushing their way out into the world. Leaves blushed with red that are perhaps the inspiration for the name Redbud. Leaves that have filled my photo collection, of Mother Nature’s hearts. Leaves that will provide food for caterpillars, of butterflies and moths of the forest, such as the striking Io Moth, Automeris io.

The seasons march on. The distinctive fruit of the Redbud will develop into flat, pea-like pods that contain 10 to 12 seeds.

As those seed pods develop, the Redbud leaves will be turning a brilliant yellow, preparing the trees for winter.

But back to the present and maybe spring. No Redbud blooms yet. Here’s to spring really happening. Here’s to at least one Pink Fog event!

A Whole New World

Life At A Different Level

I was greeted by a whole new world yesterday, as I hiked up the mountain. I’d been down in Florida and not able to check on things up here for more than a week. When I left, autumn was on the downswing. Now, I am greeted by what looks like a winter landscape. Just browns, blacks, whites, grays and a stray bit of evergreen. This is good! I love to have the seasons change around me, welcoming each one as it approaches.

Bark! Bark!

As winter creeps into our area, it’s time for me to change my focus. From butterflies and insects, to bark and buds.

Hey Bud!

These are the buds of Spicebush, Lindera benzoin. They are out there in the forest, right now, just waiting for spring, to burst into a soft wash of lemon yellow.

Not Chinese Chestnut

The bark of Spicebush puts me in mind of the young branches of Chinese Chestnut, Castanea mollissima, a tree that is often confused with American Chestnut, Castenea dentata. The Chinese Chestnut has lenticels (breathing pores on the bark of trees) that are pronounced and feel like course salt on a pretzel. I think this bark looks like a salted pretzel, like the Chinese Chestnut. This is the bark of Spicebush.

Another Shade Of Gray

Another small tree bark that I am working to get to know is Witch Hazel, Hamamelis virginiana. Both Witch Hazel and Spicebush are small trees or large shrubs that grow in look-alike groupings. I can count on the bark of each, to let me know which I am looking at, during the winter when there are few other clues. Witch Hazel (above) also has visible lenticels, but they are elongated, fewer, and the bark in general has a rosey-gray appearance, while the coloring of the Spicebush bark is more a green-gray.

Subtle Coloring

I look forward to a season of gentle coloring. Almost monotone, like a black and white pen sketch, beautiful in its simplicity.