Maple-leaf Viburnum

Just now beginning to leaf out, greeting spring. Maple-leaf Viburnum (Viburnum acerifolium), native to eastern North America, an understory, deciduous shrub.

It’s plentiful up here on my mountain, and is easy to identify with its twin, maple-like leaves. I’ve been fortunate to have received several of these shrubs as gifts. Shrubs that I’m watching grow as each year passes. Shrubs that add to my pleasure living in the woods.

The Maple-leaf Viburnum will mature to a height of six feet and a width of 4 feet. In early May pale pink buds emerge making way for soft white flat-topped flower clusters, know as cymes.

Maple-leaf Viburnum has a nectar that with its fragrance attracts bees, flower flies, moths and butterflies to help pollinate the flowers. It’s also a larval host of the Spring Azure.

The cyme, is one to three inches wide consisting of quarter inch wide individual flowers, a soft white often with a slight hint of pink.

These flowers must be cross-pollinated with another Maple-leaf Viburnum plant that is not an exact clone in order for berry-like drupes to appear in the autumn.

The fruits are attractive to many birds, including Ruffed Grouse, Cedar Waxwings, Cardinals, Hermit Thrushes, Eastern Bluebirds, Robin and Wild Turkeys.

If proper pollination takes place, the flowers give way to blue-black drupes in late autumn that may persist into the winter. The autumn leaf color ranges from shades of pink to red, leaning toward purple, and warm yellow. Gorgeous!

Choreography in the Woods

And the award for Choreography in the Woods goes to: Northern Maidenhair Fern (Adiantum pedatum).

Slowly dancing from the soil. Unfurling its fronds.

Extending its pinnae. Shedding spring rains.

Northern Maidenhair Fern is native to moist forests in eastern North America.

The genus name, Adiantum, comes from the Greek word, adiantos, which means, unwetted – referring to the way the fronds repel water.

Such beauty and grace in nature.

Witch Hazel in Spring

American witch-hazel (Hamamelis virginiana), my hero.

“The American witch-hazel (Hamamelis virginiana) is one of those plants that would like to have everyone’s undivided attention. You know the type: a bit of a rebel, marches to the beat of its own drum. This native shrub’s unwillingness to heed convention has made it popular among gardeners for hundreds of years.” Brooklyn Botanic Garden

Leaves emerging. Branches still decorated not with flowers, but what remains of the flowers that occurred at an unheard of time for blooming, October, November, some even into December. These are the calyxes of those strappy yellow blooms.

Folded up as vintage hand fans, growing daily, expanding.

Unfolding day by day. Adding rich green to the landscape.

Like other tree leaves as they open, the leaves begin working on their purpose, photosynthesis. Using carbon dioxide, sunlight and water they create sugars for the tree. Those sugars give the Witch Hazel energy to grow. Photosynthesis also creates oxygen which we animals need in order to breathe. Such a monumental task for these green leaves no bigger than six inches.

Apple Blossom Time

Apple trees at the moment are a huge puff of snow white and soft pink. A delight for pollinators gathering to make the trees buzz with excitement. This pollinator, above, is a Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus).

Two Spicebush Swallowtails (Papilio troilus).

A Silver-spotted Skipper (Epargyreus clarus).

A Nessus Sphinx Moth (Amphion floridensis).

And looking quite similar to the Nessus Sphinx Moth, this is a Hummingbird Clearwing Moth (Hemaris thysbe).

This, representing the oodles of species of bees and wasps that visit the apple blossoms, is a Virginia Carpenter Bee (Xylocopa virginica).

It is astounding to stand next to one of these apple trees in bloom and see and think about the number of insects that are feeding on the nectar of these charming flowers. Absolutely astounding.

Owling

Perhaps if you are into children’s books or you’re a birder, you know the word “owling.” I’m familiar with the word thanks to Jane Yolen’s lovely 1987 book, Owl Moon. It’s about a little girl and her father who love to go out as the sun is setting, looking for owls. Or as they call it, owling. Some dictionaries suggest that owling also involves calling to attract the owls in their own owl language but if you already know where they are that certainly isn’t necessary.

We were up in Arlington attending a much deserved celebration and there was after dinner entertainment. Owling. Two adults and two juvenile Barred Owls (Strix varia) hanging out in the woods of a nearby park, just waiting to be admired and photographed as daylight was beginning to diminish.

One of the adult owls was off on some task so we only got to see three of the family but it was quite the treat watching them. And to hear their chatting back and forth was impressive. The juveniles with their high pitched but not very loud squeal being answered back by the adult, with a soft two noted, “hoot hoot” as if to say, “Yes, I’m here.”

As it got darker we left the owls to their nighttime activities and headed south and back to our cabin in the woods.

Juvenile Barred Owls stay with their parents longer than other owls, at least four months. That will give me plenty of time to come back to visit these charming feathered creatures again as spring turns to summer. More owling!

2022 Hummingbird Arrival

It’s happened! It seems like magic that it is exactly one year after the date when the first Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris) arrived in 2021. Amazing!

This first arrival is a male (though these images are of females at the height of Hummingbird season 2016). That’s usually the case. Males are the first to leave their wintering site, heading back to their summer homes. They arrive first to get things in order, finding the perfect territory for enchanting the females, and begin to defend it. Those females generally arrive a week to a week and a half later. Soon, fun time!

Soft Magenta

Just beginning, along trails in the mountains, along the edge of the dirt road that climbs my mountain. Like a soft fabric made just for a little girl’s twirly-swirly dress of emerald green with soft magenta dots. Dancing in the wind, just like that little girl does. Blooms of Wild Geranium (Geranium maculatum) are just beginning to do their dancing for this season.

The Wild Geranium is native to eastern North America, and is most often found in deciduous forests. They grow to be 1 to 2 feet tall. The blossoms have 5 petals, 5 sepals, are 1 to 1.5 inches across, and are in clusters of 2 to 5 blossoms.

Both the nectar and pollen of these flowers attract bees, flies, butterflies and skippers. Occasionally a Wild Geranium will volunteer in one of my gardens and I must say, they are most welcome.

Star Chickweed

A sweet little well behaved native plant that has the burden of a common name which makes me think of an invasive non-native. This is Star Chickweed (Stellaria pubera) which is native to the eastern United States.

Though it looks like the flower has ten petals, each of the five petals is deeply cleft creating the illusion of ten petals. The width of these flowers are twice the size of Common Chickweed, measuring 1/2 inch across. I find the stamens that are tipped with dark anthers particularly attractive against the white petals.The leaves of Star Chickweed are lanceolate and opposite. You won’t find these plants growing in dense clumps but in airy groupings.

Common Chickweed (Stellaria media), in the picture above, grows in very dense clumps or mats. The leaves are egg-shaped with a point at the end, and they are opposite. The flowers are just 1/4 inch across. And like Star Chickweed flowers, there are five petals that are deeply cleft creating the impression of ten petals. The Common Chickweed plant is native to Europe and Asia and naturalized throughout the world.