Trees – Page 2 – Tendrils

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.

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!

Sap is Flowing

In the past three days I have been entertained by a visitor that I have not seen for more than two years. I don’t really know if this visitor is actually one that I saw during the bitterest of late January and early February of 2014, but she is quite fun to watch whether new to my woods or not. I can see her out my kitchen window. She is a Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Sphyrapicus various.

Back in the winter of 2014, a family of Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers showed up at the “watering hole” adjacent to the woods, and just outside my kitchen window. Female, male and juvenile. It was so cold that I was concerned for them. The only thing they seemed to be doing was enjoying the warm water that I had provided, and shivering. Particularly the female. In the picture above, by the way, is the male. Notice his stronger coloring, and the crimson patch at this throat, compared to the first picture, my current visitor, a female. They stayed around for a few days, during those extreme days of 2014, and then I never saw any of this species of woodpecker again, until just a few days ago.

The female that has appeared at the suet feeder has declared this suet to be hers and hers alone.

She takes her time feeding at the suet and takes a break, clinging to the little Dogwood trunk just a few feet away, with her sharply clawed toes. There have been Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, and Downy Woodpeckers who are regulars at the suet feeder. Now, if the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker sees someone that she considers a violator of her space she immediately throws her body at the intruder. This has gone on for three solid days, every moment that the suet feeder has been out there, in daylight. I don’t know where she goes as the sun goes down, but she must trust that nobody is going to eat her suet.

This behavior has me curious and I’ve gone to an amazing reference “book”, the internet. I find that Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers drill holes into trees that create sap flows, called sapwells. Sapwells provide the birds with sap which they lap up with their brush-tipped tongues, a path to the tree’s cambium which they eat, and the sap traps insects which they also eat.

The information about the sapwells is not new to me. Up in the woods there are trees that have lines of holes. These are sapwells created by the Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers. Even in the trees immediately around my cabin, I don’t have concern about the woodpeckers harming my trees. Seldom is serious harm done.

I do find a bit of information that might apply. These Sapsuckers tend to watch over and protect their sapwells. This has me wondering. Could she have tapped into the little Dogwood? I go out and sure enough, I find a sapwell! And within a short time, she is working on another Dogwood just a short distance away. From my perch at the kitchen window I can see telltale moisture around the area where she has been working.

Nature is always prodding me to dig to get more information. Dig to learn more. I love Mother Nature.

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!

Fall Shutdown

Autumn is doing its thing. Leaves turning brilliant colors. Spiders with black and orange stripes on their legs, spinning intricate webs. Black walnuts thumping to the ground with loud warning, as they cascade through leaves, high in the forest canopy.

And a favorite of mine, maidenhair fern, in the genus, Adiantum, shutting down. Turning straw color, and purple. Preparing for the cold winter. Anticipating a spring in which it will send out graceful fronds. Fronds that will thrill me, once again.

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!

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!