Native Plants – Page 2

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.

Poison Ivy

Poison Ivy, Toxicodendron radicans

I’m feeling itchy already just anticipating writing this blog. It was not until I was well into my adult life that I first got a Poison Ivy rash, complete with huge blisters. OH! How very painful it was. Fast forward 30 years or so and I’ve grown to love, or at least truly appreciate the native plant.

Yes I do hold the plant in high regard, even though I am now extremely sensitive to urushiol, an oil found in all parts of the plant. The urushiol is not a defensive mechanism but rather aids the plant with retention of water. Urushiol is also found in Poison Oak, and Poison Sumac. A similar oil is found in the skin of Mangoes, and its leaves and bark. Nice to know about this. I won’t be chopping any Mango anytime soon, and will leave the preparation to someone else if it is on the menu. Eating the flesh of the Mango is no problem for me. The shell of the Cashew nut also contains a similar oil, and only creates a skin reaction until the Cashew is roasted. After roasting, the Cashew shell is problem free for those sensitive to urushiol.

This (photo above) is how a Poison Ivy plant starts out in spring, a brilliant crimson announcing its entry into the world. Perhaps the color is a warning. It certainly tips me off.

As spring begins to think of summer and warmth, as the Poison Ivy bursts forth with a thick growth of leaves, the plant blooms, with tiny pale yellow-green petals in clusters. The stamens are a standout color of school bus yellow.

As I’ve hiked my mountain trails I’ve noticed that one butterfly in particular will seek refuge on the leaves of the Poison Ivy plant. Time after time, individual after individual, Northern Pearly Eye butterflies (picture above) will alight on those leaves as if they provide some safety zone. These butterflies can feel safe. I will not hunt them down, except with my camera, while they are sitting on the Poison Ivy leaves!

Those leaves that are safety zones for some butterflies, can compete with any of the trees of autumn with their outstanding colors. Turning bright sunshine yellow, pumpkin orange or a rich deep red, they bring on an artist’s palette of warmth.

I am a big fan of Mother Nature whether it is birds, trees, flowers, frogs, toads, snakes, spiders, geology, weather – all aspects of it. This brings me to the above picture. The fruit of the Poison Ivy plant, drupes. Birds depend on these drupes as midwinter leaves them with few things to eat. I have seen many woodpeckers congregating on the Poison Ivy vines that wrap, cling and climb my huge oak trees in front of my cabin in late January. Little to eat but salvation in the Poison Ivy drupes.

The woodpeckers are not the only critters that find a meal at the Poison Ivy vine. Here a Chickadee dines on the drupes, keeping an eye on me, as he does.

I remove Poison Ivy when it emerges in one of my gardens, or on my paths that I regularly use, but if it is growing where only birds and the creatures of the woods venture, I leave it for them. I appreciate the beauty and the need for this native plant.

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?

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!

Ants That Are Farmers

Large-flowered Trillium, Trillium grandiflorum — Large-flowered Trillium, *Trillium grandiflorum*

Every now and then, when I am doing research on a plant, I will discover that the plant has an unusual quality. The plants with this unusual quality are said to be myrmecochorous. They use a method of seed dispersal that is facilitated by ants.

Seed pod of Twinleaf, Jeffersonia diphylla — Seed pod of Twinleaf, *Jeffersonia diphylla*

The seeds of myrmecochorous plants have fleshy appendages called elaiosomes which are packed with nutrients, and are tempting to ants. The picture above is of a seed pod of a Twinleaf, Jeffersonia diphylla, filled with seeds with elaiosomes.

Twinleaf, Jeffersonia diphylla — Twinleaf, *Jeffersonia diphylla*

Ants out hunting for food will stumble upon these seeds, gather them, and return to their colony to feed the elaiosomes to hungry larvae.

Spring Beauty, Claytonia virginica — Spring Beauty, *Claytonia virginica*

Once the elaiosomes are consumed, the ants have no further use for the seeds, and throw them into their colony’s “trash room.”

Wild Bleeding Heart, Dicentra Eximia — Wild Bleeding Heart, *Dicentra Eximia*

The environment in the “trash room” is a near perfect setting to start seeds – underground, and full of nourishment essential for plant growth.

Common Blue Violet, Viola sororia — Common Blue Violet, *Viola sororia*

A new crop of plants, thanks to ant farmers.

The plants included in this blog are but a few of the myrmecochorous plants of my area, the mountains of central Virginia, and world wide there are more than 3,000 species.

Hackberry

Here on Snow Mountain, in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, I see quite a few hackberry trees, Celtis occidentalis. Most are trees with circumferences of 5 inches or smaller, trees that have not been around long. Their small size may be, in part, because the forest up here is a young forest. Back in the 1950s and 1960s the mountainsides were farmland—no forests. Farm families had a tough existence along the Blue Ridge, with loads of rocks to deal with, and difficulty getting up and down the very steep, dirt roads. Time marches on, and now there is forest up here and very few people.

The hackberry tree is a favorite of mine, simply because of its bark. This bark is what first brought the tree to my attention. It looks like a topographic map, in 3D, warty and corky. I frequently do work in Shenandoah National Park, on the Buck Hollow Trail, and get to see larger, more mature hackberry trees at that location.

Hackberry trees are native to North America. Given favorable conditions, one of these trees could live to be 150 or 200 years of age. They grow to be medium sized trees, 60 or 80 feet tall or taller, depending on the soil and moisture conditions. They tolerate pollution, although only occasionally are they used as a street tree.

The trees’ berries are edible, though I seldom notice them. Summer brings the berries a red-orange color, which turns to dark purple in the fall. Birds love them.

Looking much like a berry, what I do notice, and use as an identifier, are galls that seem to always be on some of the branch tips or just below the leaf on the petiole.

The galls are the home to young nymphs of an insect—the petiole gall psyllid. These insects and their galls do not do major harm to the tree.

Along with the wildlife benefits of the berries, the hackberry tree is also the larval host to question mark, mourning cloak, and American snout butterflies. It is also the nectar source for several other butterflies and moths.

The photograph, above, is of an American snout, who alighted on my camera strap last summer, as I was hiking. A chance encounter with another admirer of the hackberry tree!

Beech

It took a while for me to figure out. Figure out the little trees, clinging dearly to their leaves well into winter. Hanging on as if the trees’ very life depended on it. I would see these trees from the window of my truck, as I would drive past. Such a common sight. Many woods contained the mystery trees.

Finally, I got myself established in my cabin in the woods, moving from, what some might call the city to, definitely not the city. Finally I had time to hike, to identify plants, both large and small, that had been intriguing me. My mystery tree, it turns out is American beech, Fagus grandifolia, a tree native to eastern North America. American beech is not necessarily a small tree, but can grow to be 80 feet tall, with a diameter of 3 feet or more, and can live 300 to 400 years. I was noticing the small trees, simply because they were so visible, their leaves still there, against the otherwise empty forest understory. American beech is a tree that tolerates shade, doesn’t get discouraged, keeps growing, even in the understory.

The leaves are reminiscent of a tree that is near and dear to my heart. It is reminiscent of the American chestnut, having sawtooth edged leaves, a coloring similar to the American chestnut in the fall, and being shade tolerant. It is no wonder. American beech and American chestnut are both in the beech family Fagaceae.

An easy way to tell that you’ve found an American beech, is by looking at the end of the branches, where you will see long, tapered tips that look much like cigars.

Another clue that you have come upon an American beech, is its bark, which is smooth and silver gray, even into old age. The tree is monoecious, which means it gets both male and female flowers on the same tree. The wind does the job of pollination. The pollinated flowers grow into beech nuts, which are eaten by many mammals (including humans) and birds. Every two or three years the tree will produce a bumper crop of these beech nuts. It may take 40 to 60 years for the tree to begin producing these flowers and nuts though.

The American beech reproduces both by seed, and by sprouting seedlings from its shallow roots. It can be found along streams and bottom lands, although it does well, in most any situation, given adequate moisture. Must be moist up here on my mountain. American beech is plentiful up here.

Virginia Pine

The holidays. They’re here. They’ve got me thinking of pine trees, and pinecones. And I’m wishing for snow. I’ve had a tiny bit of snow already, but I’m ready for more.

This is Virginia pine, Pinus virginiana. I live in a cabin, in the Blue Ridge Mountains, in central Virginia. There are plenty of Virginia pine up here, in part because it is a pioneer plant. Pioneer plants will take over abandoned farm fields. Fifty and sixty years ago these mountains had very few trees. Even in the higher elevations, such as where I live, there were fields of corn, as far as the eye could see. As the corn fields were abandoned, pioneer plants, such as Virginia pine and black locust, took over. There are many other trees up here now, as the older trees, that took over the fields, mature, and make way for other tree species, as the forest matures.

Virginia pine is native from southern New York state, through the Appalachian Mountains, on into Tennessee and Alabama. The tree is small to medium sized, growing to 40 or 60 feet tall. With optimum growing conditions, a tree may reach 100 feet. The tree will tolerate, quite easily, very poor sandy soil, but prefers loam or clay.

The cones on Virginia pine will stay on the tree for several years. Small birds and mammals will eat the seeds from the cones. White-tailed deer will eat the branch tips and needles. The young pines provide shelter for small animals and are a popular tree for woodpeckers, because of the soft wood.

In the picture below, a red-breasted nuthatch is eating pine seeds.

The bark of Virginia pine is a mosaic of loose plates, reddish brown in color. A typical pine bark. The needles, twisted, bundled in pairs, 1.5 to 3 inches in length.

My husband and I may choose to cut a Virginia pine, as our Christmas tree this year. Surely there is one that is just the perfect size and shape. If things go as they usually do, we will wait until it is extremely cold and snowing to bring the tree in from the forest. Cold with blowing snow, perfect weather for cutting down a Christmas tree. I hope that, at the very least, we will have tromped through the woods, and selected and marked which tree will grace our great room, while the weather is pleasant. That being done, the cutting ceremony will be short and sweet, though very cold!

This monarch butterfly, in a picture from early July of this year, may be hinting at its choice for our Christmas tree. I think I’ll give this tree serious consideration!

Witch Hazel

The autumn bloomer. American witch hazel, Hamamelis virginiana. Blooming to catch the last of the lovely purple asters. The asters have been blooming for many weeks now, adding an unexpected color to the color scheme of fall. Their bloom time overlaps, just a bit but I’m getting distracted. I want to tell you about American witch hazel, with blooms of lovely yellow. Four petals for each flower. Petals that look like lemon zest.

As fall reaches its mid-point, the leaves of American witch hazel are a brilliant yellow. Its flowers too, are blooming. At first, one must know. One must look for the blooms. They are not showy and the lemony yellow leaves compete for attention, and pretty much win. As the days pass, the leaves give in to the change of season, and drop to the forest floor, revealing the last blooms in the mountains, till spring returns.

I say mountains. That is where I see American witch hazel. The higher the elevation, here in the Blue Ridge Mountains, the more likely I am to see them. I live at an elevation of 1,800 feet, and in my woods it is unusual to see an American witch hazel, which is a shrub or small tree with many trunks. Further up my mountain, to its summit of 3,586 feet, American witch hazel is a very common sight. I have planted American witch hazel, here in my yard and, so far, have been successful in having them grow.

The shrub, which is native to northeast and southeast North America, grows to 20 to 30 feet in height, and has a width of 15 to 20 feet. In the wild, American witch hazel enjoys moist, shaded sites. The shrub is pollinated by a moth. The moth, and its chilly night pollinating activities has an interesting story, that you can read, here.

The seed capsules that form, after the bloom is pollinated (seen in the picture above, as a fuzzy golden thingy), overwinter. In their second autumn, the seed capsules dry, popping open to send the one or two seeds inside, a distance of up to 30 feet. Fun seed distribution! Ruffed grouse and squirrels eat these seed capsules, and white-tailed deer like to munch on the leaves and branches.

There are many stories of how witch hazel got its name. My favorite story has to do with a gall that is often seen on the leaves. It is the gall of the witch hazel cone gall aphid. It supposedly, made the namer of the shrub think of a witch’s hat, and therefore the name witch hazel. Ive captured this gall in green, in the photograph. You might also see them in a red shade. I have not noticed that these galls, on the leaves, are a serious problem.

This picture, a new American witch hazel leaf in spring. I am looking forward, into the future, hoping that next year will be that magic year. The year that the witch hazel shrubs that I have planted in my gardens, will be mature enough, and will bloom for me.

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!