Color – Page 3 – Tendrils

Red Admiral

A beauty, though small, stirs my curiosity as he flutters by, giving me very little time to capture his image with my camera. A Red Admiral, Vanessa atalanta. A butterfly that you just might see if you put overripe fruit out on your back porch, since this is a favorite food. Also at the top of the culinary treats they enjoy, are sap flows in trees such as these, pictured below, created by Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers.

The Red Admiral has a wing span of about 2 inches or just a smidgeon more, and appears to have bunches of nervous energy, much like a fidgety little kid.

Here in central Virginia, in the Blue Ridge Mountains, there is an abundance of the native plant, Wood Nettle. As larvae, Red Admirals dine on plants of the nettle family, including Wood Nettle, Laportea canadensis. The image below is Wood Nettle, a perennial herbaceous plant with upper leaves that are alternate. The flowers you see in this photo are male flowers.

Female flowers form on the same plant, and bloom at the top of the plant, as shown in the next image.

This is not a plant that you want to brush against, since it causes an instant, unpleasant, burning and itching feeling. Fortunately this irritating sensation lasts for just a short time, but it’s best just to avoid it.

Given the wealth of Wood Nettle along the trails here in the mountains, I do not wonder at all why these beautiful butterflies accompany me as I hike these mountain trails.

Butterflies mostly black, with brilliant red, bright blue, and striking white dots. I welcome their company.

Trilliums

Late April and early May is Trillium time in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia.

Seeing Trillium along the trails in the mountains close to my cabin has inspired me to include them in my gardens. Little by little, as the saying goes. Yes, little by little, I am getting Trillium incorporated into my cabin gardens. The photograph, above is one of my garden Trillium, a White Trillium, Trillium grandiflorum, which is easy to find on the trails of the higher elevations of Snow Mountain and Hightop.

And here, another image of White Trillium, Trillium grandiflorum, in bud.

There is another form of the White Trillium, pictured in bud above, which blooms in pale pink and white. This is Trillium grandiflorum forma roseum. I don’t have this form in my gardens. This image was taken further up the mountain, very near Shenandoah National Park.

I’m in search of a nursery that has this form of Trillium, but I must be *cautious* to only purchase any of these Trillium from a nursery which grows its plants from seed and does not dig them from the wild. One must be careful too, not to pick any portion of a wild Trillium, since doing this can cause the entire plant to die. Though I have many acres up here, I would not pick or transplant any of the Trillium on my property, since I believe they are happy where Mother Nature has planted them. I must find a reliable source to make my gardens beautiful.

Hiking this time of year provides such breath taking views of Trillium carpeting the forest floor. An experience that makes lugging two heavy cameras and various lenses well worth it. This image above, is another image of Trillium grandiflorum forma roseum.

Yellow Trillium, Trillium luteum, is another of the Trillium that are in my garden. Not many, but I am hoping for these and others to spread as the years go by. And, Oh MY! Does this one have a delightful, lemon scent!

Here, another species of the small population of Trillium that populate my gardens. This one, pictured above, Prairie Trillium, Trillium recurvatum.

Trillium are a family of plants that produce seeds that have an appendage, called an elaiosome, which are attractive to ants, who gather the seeds, and feed them to their larvae. Once the lipid and protein rich elaiosomes are consumed, the ants take the seeds to their “trash room” which is a splendid environment for the seeds to sprout. I’m hoping ants will help *my* Trillium spread.

The showstopper, above, is the Red Trillium, Trillium erectum, which I have only seen in Shenandoah National Park. It is on my mountain, but within park boundaries. One of these days I’ll find this one, at a dependable native plant nursery, and add it to my collection.

And now, my Trillium, at least the White Trillium, are fading, looking like the ghosts of Trillium past. I’m looking forward to seeing what stunning plants will emerge as the season progresses. How about you?

Fruit at the Cabin

In front of my cabin right now, there is a constant buzz . There are loads of trees and bushes involved in the sound, three good sized trees, planted soon after our cabin was built, many years ago – pear, MacIntosh apple, and Monmorency cherry, and a good number of blueberry bushes planted at about the same time as the fruit trees. Plus there are several wild cherry trees contributing to the buzz, at the edge of the woods.

As you might imagine, the sound is not exactly being generated by the trees and bushes themselves, but by the critters that are enjoying the nectar, like the Hummingbird Hawk-moth, Hemaris thysbe, pictured above, at the apple tree.

There are loads of bees and wasps. This bee is sipping nectar at one of the blueberry bushes.

The most plentiful species buzzing about is a large number of Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, Papilio glaucus. They give action to the scene with their constant motion and larger size. The two images, above, are both Eastern Tiger Swallowtails. The top image is a light morph female. The image immediately above is a male.

This, above, is also an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. It is a dark morph female. The dark morph female is mimicking the color and pattern of the Pipevine Swallowtail, Battus philenor. There is a measure of protection using this coloring and pattern, since Pipevine Swallowtails are poisonous and predators will be less likely to eat the mimic.

This visitor, a bit frayed, is one of my favorite butterflies, a Zebra Swallowtail, Protographium marcellus. If this butterfly were newly emerged from its chrysalis, it would have two swordlike tails and the faded coral spots, that you see here, would be a brilliant crimson.

Another butterfly buzzing about is the Silver-spotted Skipper, Epargyreus clarus, one of our largest skippers. Interesting: it is said that the Silver-spotted Skipper will not seek the nectar of flowers that are yellow. I’ll have to watch the yellow flowers on the mountain, and see! This skipper is quite common in the area.

All this action, sipping of nectar, brings on pollination of the blooms. Soon there will be apples, pears, cherries, and blueberries as a result, enough to keep me busy for a while, like the pollinators that are busy right now!

A Walk to Westover

A bright sunny and delightfully chilly morning for a walk to the farmer's market — **A bright sunny and delightfully chilly morning for a walk to the farmer’s market**

Sunday morning found me walking to the Westover Farmer’s Market, through Mother Nature’s slant on things in an urban environment. An environment a bit different than I have become accustomed to.

**Japanese Red Maple with sun shining through its leaves making them even more brilliant**

Some of the trees, shrubs, flowers, familiar – from my childhood. The Japanese Red Maple brought back memories of a tree that my parents planted at the house where I grew up. A small tree with dainty, elegant, deep rich red leaves. That yard, from years ago – I think I could still map out each of the many trees that were within its boundaries.

Springstar, Ipheion uniflorum, related to onions, is a new flower to me — **Springstar, *Ipheion uniflorum*, related to onions, is a new flower to me**

The beautiful Springstar blooms, I don’t recall ever seeing before. In one patch, they covered a wide swath of not yet mowed grass. Perfect timing for the blooms since the grass was still in sleepy mode and was only just beginning to think of growing.

There were, of course, plants that I see everyday in my mountain woods. Maples with smooth, silvery bark. Samaras, which I called helicopters, long before I knew the word samara.

Honeysuckle, which is all too abundant in both this urban setting and in the mountain setting that I am used to. Honeysuckle growing rapidly, making it difficult for native plants to get a foothold in the competitive world of nature.

**Lilacs in bloom with their fantastic fragrance filling the air**

Lilacs, which I used to associate with Mother’s Day, but look it is blooming now. Perhaps my childhood home is a bit further north than this setting, or is this a sign of climate change, or a sign of memories a bit askew?

**A happy Camelia, soaking up the sunshine**

A Camelia, which makes me think of how fussy they always seemed to be, trying to bloom when it was still much too cold. Now in my mountain home, I try for plants that are native to that mountain, things that have proven to be survivors. Things that don’t have to be fussed over. I want to be out taking photographs, not fussing in the garden!

**Redbud covering the streets with pink cheer**

Small native trees like Redbud, require no fuss. They are everywhere along the road up to my cabin. Planted there by Mother Nature. I’m glad to have her on my side.

**Squirrels everywhere, who are not shy**

Mother Nature has a large team of assistants. Squirrels who collect nuts in the fall, bury them and often leave them to grow. Squirrels in this urban setting are much more bold than the ones I’m used to now. Country squirrels don’t wait to see what you are up to, they scurry quickly at the least little bit of movement.

Between home and the farmer's market, parks abound — **Between home and the farmer’s market, parks abound**

On the way home, the obligatory stop at the park brings joy to everyone. Smiles all around. No farmer’s market on my mountain. No playground to delight, but oh, so many other things to lighten my heart!

Snow Mountain

This morning I was greeted by a tiny bit less than an inch of snow here on the mountain. I skipped yoga (!!) and spent the morning walking and enjoying the sounds of snow. Okay, mainly the sounds of birds enjoying the new, white blanket. Many were robins, and cedar waxwings gathering in the tree tops, exchanging stories of how this winter has been mighty wimpy so far. They agreed with me. The winter is still young. There is still hope.

This first picture, above, is of greenbrier. There’s loads of it up here. It is a native, and though many people don’t like it, it has numerous benefits. Greenbrier provides good cover for small animals, and some animals eat the leaves and stems. Deer, beaver, and rabbits are three of the animals. That they eat this plant, impresses me. Those stems, complete with thorns, must be mighty tough. There is an impressive number of birds that enjoy the berries during the winter, along with squirrel, raccoon and possum.

These red fruits, are rose hips, from a plant that I really wish would just go away. It is a non-native, invasive. Rosa multiflora produces white flowers with yellow centers during its short blooming period. It forms an impenetrable mass, spreads rapidly and has very unfriendly thorns that are hooked backward, making being snagged an unpleasant experience. I’m waiting and hoping. There is a virus that is attacking these walls of thorns, slowly decreasing its population here in the Blue Ridge. I’m sorry that the same virus may be putting your garden rose bushes in jeopardy, but I am cheering it on, in the case of rosa multiflora.

Another plant that I captured in pixels on my walk this morning, smooth sumac. Among the plants that grow up here, I have many favorites. This is one. My favorite time for this sumac is winter, when birds enjoy its brilliant red berries. Cardinals, and many types of woodpeckers are among the visitors to the small trees.

Snow still covers my dirt, twisty turny, steep mountain road, but tomorrow morning I’ll be heading down to go back to yoga class. My “snow day” was a total pleasure. Yoga will be tomorrow’s total pleasure!

Winterberry

I am in my element now. It is winter. I like to say, whatever season is happening at the moment – it is my favorite, but truth be told, winter is really my favorite. At least for the next few months! I love the stark landscape, very little color (with the exception of black, gray, white, and browns), skeletons of trees. I get to see the unveiled character of trees. Their personality is exposed. They talk to me. But along with that starkness, it is nice to see a rare sprinkling of brilliant color. Much like a black and white quilt. Add just a few crimson patches to all those blacks and whites, and you have a quilt that sings.

A bush that accomplishes that splash of color in my “garden” is winterberry, Ilex verticillata.

I must explain why I have put quotation marks around, “garden.” I live in the mountains, in the middle of the woods. I don’t really have gardens. Things just grow, with very little guidance from me. On occasion I will plant something, or trim something, but I love natives, things that already grow in my woods.

Winterberry fits the bill. A native to eastern North America. Winterberry perhaps, would rather live in a wetland habitat, but after several years at my cabin, it is doing well for me. And doing well for the birds that enjoy its berries, and its shelter, and for insects that benefit from its nectar.

Winterberry is in the holly family. You will see in the picture below, it does not have sharp points on its leaves, but it does lose those leaves during the winter. The winterberry bush is dioecious, meaning that male and female flowers are found on separate bushes, and you must be sure you have at least one male bush. for pollination, to get these beautiful berries.

Winterberry, is perfect for this season. Perfect for brightening up a gorgeous, bleak landscape. And yes, bleak is good!

Happy winter to you and yours!

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!

Wood Poppy

Brilliant color. A sure hit in my garden. Add the fact that the brilliant color is a native to moist woods, of eastern North America, and it becomes a must have for me. A must have for my garden.

This screaming yellow bloom is of Wood Poppy, or Celadine Poppy, Stylophorum diphyllum.

The Wood Poppy shows hints of bloom as a fuzzy bud. It begins blooming in my garden (which is at an elevation of 1,800 feet in the Blue Ridge Mountains, of Virginia) in mid April. The plants continue blooming for a couple months.

The leaf of Wood Poppy reminds me of a White Oak leaf. Deep sinuses. As mid summer arrives, the leaves begin to change color. Just a slight change of color. A hint of autumn to come.

The seeds have a way of putting plants in odd places. If you have a neat, tidy garden with regimenation, unlike mine, you’ll want to give the new plants guidance in placement. The plant is most happy in a moist location, in shade or part shade.

Even now, as August weather is hinting at fall, I am enjoying the Wood Poppies in my garden. I particularly enjoy them at this time of year, when there is rain. The rain drops on their leaves are beautiful.

Cardinal Flower

Hummingbirds love it. So do I. If it was a Corvette Stingray, the color would be called Victory Red. It is a blazing, brilliant, red, not often seen in a native plant. In the picture above, you see a sweat bee, using a leaf as a resting spot on the Cardinal Flower’s, Lobelia cardinalis, landing strip of a leaf.

The blossoms are arranged in spikes, which are generally 2 to 4 feet. They open from the bottom up. The flower’s deep, tubular makeup creates a perfect flower for hummingbirds to pollinate.

The Cardinal Flower likes a moist place to call home. Whether a ditch along the roadside, or a streambank, its brilliant color calls to hummingbirds as well as butterflies to come pollinate it. In my garden, they are in a northwest facing garden, against the cabin, right at the base of a downspout. The plants love for the rain to spill down from the roof.

Some books and websites tell me that the plant is moderately, deer and rabbit resistant, but the rabbits that live in my woods haven’t read those books. They will occasionally take a chomp from a tempting sprout.

When neighbors at the bottom of the mountain maintain their yards to the hilt, cutting all growth in the ditch along the road, except for the alien lawn grasses, they remove the chance for these beautiful flowers to bloom. To attract hummingbirds. I’m pleased that some neighbors are not so fussy about their yards and leave the Cardinal Flower to grow. This year, there is more growing in this ditch than I have ever seen before.

This is the Cardinal Flower, before the buds have formed. This is what the plant looks like, just before the 4th of July. I take a deep breath, and try to remain calm as VDOT comes through, with their all consuming tractors, every year around the 4th of July. Cutting back all sorts of native plants that would bloom with glee if left alone. All in the name of safety. Cutting back the native plants.

The Cardinal Flower is a relatively common flower. Think twice about picking it though. It has become scarce in some areas due to people picking the flowers and bringing them home to their moms.

Though there are stories of Native Americans using parts of the Cardinal Flower plant for medicinal purposes, all parts of the plant are poisonous. Take pictures and leave the flowers for the hummingbirds and butterflies.