Tendrils

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.

Smooth Sumac

Just a couple weeks ago, some of the bushes along my woodland edges were abuzz with pollinator activity. The flowers of Smooth Sumac, Rhus glabra, were the magnet.

Butterflies, including this Red-banded Hairstreak, Calycopis cecrops, were part of the crowd.

Honey Bees, gathering nectar, to help some bee keeper with his honey supply were also attracted. And so many other insects. Sweat bees, wasps. Too many to identify or list here! Believe me, Abuzz!

Smooth Sumac is a dioecious plant, meaning that male and female flowers appear on separate bushes.

There are many references to a lemonade being made from the berries. Call me chicken, but I’m not going to experiment, particularly because I am allergic to nuts and the thought that this shrub is in the cashew family (Anacardiaceae) is warning enough for me.

Autumn brings scarlet to the sawtooth edged leaves.

The bushes form dense colonies, by means of root suckers, and are easily spotted along the roadsides in many areas, in the fall, thanks to the brilliant red foliage.

The berries are an emergency food for many, many song birds through the winter.

This Yellow-shafted Flicker, or Northern Flicker, Colaptes auratus, is glad to have the emergency supply. I took this photograph during a heavy snow, back in February, 2010.

And as the seasons roll along, winter turns to spring. The compound leaves sprout, looking like ferns as they unfold. And the whole cycle repeats itself.

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.

Sweetspire

A gift from my son, some years ago, has turned into quite the pollinator magnet. Virginia Sweetspire, or another common name, Tassel-white. Itea virginica. Three small bushes have grown into a lovely mound of cream colored, cascading blooms.These cascading blooms have become tantalizing lures for pollinators in the vicinity of my central Virginia mountain cabin. Whether it is a brilliant orange Fritillary or a Silver-spotted Skipper the word is out.

They have arrived, along with all manner of bee, to take advantage of the buffet. These bushes satisfy a need in the natural world, and fill my heart, and my world of Nature, with great satisfaction. Plants native to the state.

This is something that I’ve grown to appreciate, over the years. Something that I wasn’t aware of, when I began making my home here in the mountains. Concentrating on growing native plants. Something that I wish more nurseries would help more of us appreciate. For instance there is a non-native, invasive plant called, Burning Bush which is widely sold, although some eastern U.S. states are banning the importation of the plant. It breaks my heart to see Burning Bush, Euonymus alata native to Asia growing, spreading, invading. Growing where plants that are native to this area would be of more benefit.

Sweetspire would be a lovely choice, rather than an alien invasive even if your neighborhood nursery has Burning Bush on sale. With perhaps just a tiny bit of effort, you could find Virginia Sweetspire.These yummy, richly red leaves are the autumnal reward of growing Virginia Sweetspire. And winter brings more reward with exposure of the twigs and branches twigs and branches of lovely burgundy. A nice contrast to the starkness of ice and snow.

I live in the woods. I live in the mountains. I strive to keep my world as much as possible like it would have been a hundred, or more years ago, with plants that are native to this state. Sweetspire is one of the plants that is helping me stay happy up here!

Rose Or Berry?

Late May, and the clusters of white blossoms are everywhere. Brambles covered with cascades of white. Blackberry or Multiflora Rose. For me, a friend and a foe. The two plants are nearly twins to the untrained eye. I think I’ve got it figured out though. In the picture, above, Blackberry, Rubus fruticosus. Notice the center of the bloom — a soft, pale green.

The spill of blossoms of the Blackberry, are a bit more thin and scattered than the Multiflora Rose.

Native Blackberry provides much benefit to wildlife here on the mountain. Not only does my family enjoy picking the berries, but many insects, birds and mammals benefit from its presence.

The Multiflora Rose, Rosa multiflora, above, has the same size flower as the Blackberry. The center of the bloom though, is quite a different color — soft yellow with school bus yellow stamens.

Stepping back, looking at the Multiflora Rose as a bush, the blooms are more tightly packed in their clusters than the Blackberry.

The Multiflora Rose is native to eastern Asia, in China, Japan and Korea. It is considered an alien invasive in eastern North America. Multiflora Rose should not be confused with polyantha roses which are garden cultivars derived from hybrids of R. multiflora.

Here on my mountain, and further up, in Shenandoah National Park, Multiflora Rose presents a challenge. It takes over large swaths of ground preventing native plants from establishing themselves and providing benefit to insects, birds and mammals.

Friend or foe? Blackberry is my friend, Multiflora Rose is definitely not.

A Bush To Love

I’m in love with a bush that’s growing in my yard. Actually I have 14 of these bushes growing along the edge of my front porch, bordering the vegetable garden, and creating a shrub island by the wood shop. I can’t recommend them highly enough. Here in the mountains of central Virginia, they are a perfect shrub, lovely and trouble free.

After being planted, it was just a matter of sitting back and waiting. I do admit to being concerned when they were baby shrubs, and new to this mountain. I diligently watered them. I stopped doing that years ago, and they are not complaining in the least.

Native to Eastern North America, I can easily find blueberry bushes as I hike up the mountain. It always gives me a thrill to find this crop plant growing wild.

In the spring they show off with their creamy white, to blush pink blooms, enticing bees to come pollinate them. The blueberry bush, with its yummy berry, provides benefits to an incredible number of insects and animals, including at least 30 species of birds, along with many mammals. Browsers love to chomp on the leaves, but are not a problem. I’m thankful though, to have very few deer.

As the berries think of ripening, they create inspiration for me. Inspiration to take photographs of the still green fruit. I find them beautiful whether green or blue.

As they mature into frosty looking, deep blue orbs, there is more inspiration. Inspiration to bake. Bake pies, bake muffins, make pancakes. Although there are plenty of berries, I have to pace myself and not use them all up. Many, many quarts of berries are frozen, for treats throughout the year.

As summer turns to autumn, so do the leaves of the blueberry bush, creating another treat. The brilliance of the season is reflected in the foliage of the blueberry bush. Another season to inspire — more photographs!

And then comes, what is perhaps my favorite season, winter. The twigs of the blueberry bush in winter provide more spark for me, particularly when the ice storms hit — bright red branches, covered in ice. As others stress over the weather, I think, “Soon it will be spring again. Don’t stress over that ice. Just go get photos!”

Maidenhair Fern

I love ferns. Some remind me of ballerinas. Images of grace. Though dainty looking, many of them can be hardy plants. No need to pamper.

This one, I believe, is a fern that is native to Virginia. Northern Maidenhair Fern, Adiantum Pedatum. I moved this large clump of fern from my house in Arlington, Virginia, to my home in the mountains of central Virginia, in about 2008. Since then, it has slowly but surely become a larger and larger clump of grace and beauty.

In early spring, I check and wait for the unfurling of the beautiful little fronds to begin. They are not the first of the plants to wake from their winter slumber.

The fronds grow slowly, turning from a reddish color to green as they mature.

Finally becoming a major part of the garden. Grace and beauty.

I cannot say that Maidenhair Fern is a common plant in the woods of Snow Mountain, but I do find it from time to time. One little cluster of its fronds is used, as I hike the mountain road. Pictured here, is the clump that I use as my marker. This is my turn-around point. When I see it, I know it is time to head back down the road. Time to head home with my cameras full of pictures.

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.

Thistle Seed? No!

What are these seeds, that I’ve been calling thistle seed, since I was a child? These seeds that Goldfinches, Chickadees, Tufted Titmice and White-throated Sparrows seem to go bonkers over?

What a surprise I had, when I looked up thistle seed on the internet. Seems thistle seed is not thistle seed at all, but the seed of a yellow flower, Guizotia abyssinica, which is cultivated for its seeds in Africa, India and other areas of southeast Asia. A native of the highlands of Ethiopia, and the only major wild bird feed seed imported to North America from overseas.

This tiny black seed is sold here in the U.S. as Nyjer seed, a registered trademark of the Wild Bird Feeding Industry. It amazes me that the tiny songbirds that come to my feeders, take each tiny seed to a nearby branch and carefully remove the hull, to eat the little bit of nut meat, which is packed with 40 percent oil, which is the attractant.

In all seasons, Goldfinches arrive to dine on the Nyjer seeds.

Another bird that can’t resist the temptation of Nyjer seed, is the White-Throated Sparrow.

There are other birds that are attracted to Nyjer seed, but I’ll close with this last little guy. A Tufted Titmouse. These four bird species, Chickadees, Goldfinches, White-throated Sparrows, and Tufted Titmice are the ones that I know I’ll see every single day at my feeder of tiny black seeds, that are not thistle seed.