Weather & Wildflowers

The Upstate was plagued in 2016 with spring windstorms, summer drought, and an extended hot and dry autumn. Unfortunately, it looks like 2017 might prove equally unkind. A mild January and warm February stimulated an early spring that was squelched in March by the return of winter.  In the past week we’ve seen a low of 23 F (-5 C) and a high of 86 F (30 C), a difference of 63 degrees in just a few days. Then, on Tuesday evening, mighty thunderstorms swept across our region, pelting some areas with 2 inches of hail and others with nearly 4 inches of rain.

So, in my shady garden, where spring is the main event, the azaleas droop with brown flowers and there will be no blooms on the bigleaf hydrangeas (H. macrophylla)  this year. (Sigh.)

Thank goodness there is joy to be found in the woodland garden, where a group of “rescued” sweet Betsy trilliums (T. cunneatum) are thriving.

Sweet Betsy trillium (T. cunneatum) moved from a nearby area.

Moved just 2 years ago from a property being bulldozed for construction,  the plants are already beginning to spread. Trilliums reproduce vegetatively from small rhizome offshoots, as well as by seeds. When seeds mature, they attract ants and yellow jackets to a lipid-rich food body (elaiosome) attached to their seed coat. Ants move the seeds short distances and yellow jackets disperse them further afield.

Here is another happy surprise.

More Sweet Betsy.

This naturally occurring patch of sweet Betsy has more than doubled in size since 2011. In fact, this group of trilliums is the very first I found here, surviving under a cloak of English ivy, which spurred our determination to clear invasive plants and reestablish natives.  Six years ago there were 18 flowers. When this photo was taken a few days ago, I counted 38!

Typically, the flowers of bloodroot are finished by now, but not this year.

Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)

Bloodroot is one of the most cherished signs of early spring.  The flowers, partially encircled by a single unfolding leaf, appear well before the trees leaf out.  Can you see the pollen on the lower petals?  Pollen eating bees and flies are attracted to the nectarless flowers, but if cross-pollination doesn’t occur within 3-4 days, then the anthers bend toward the stigma and shower it with pollen.

Look what else is waking.

Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum)

Burned by frost, but with a bloom in the making.  Thank goodness all parts of this plant, except its fleshy fruit, are highly poisonous.  The local deer family, a doe with twin yearlings, was back for a browse yesterday.

In the garden, we can’t predict what tomorrow might bring…but fingers crossed for more good things ahead.

 

 

 

 

Weekend Wildlife (and flowers too)

There hasn’t been much time for gardening or blogging recently, but I stole a few hours this weekend to rescue and transplant trilliums, rejuvenate a container, and simply enjoy the spring garden.

Friday provided a quick look at one of the resident red-shouldered hawks that live along the Reedy River.  I barely managed to grab my camera for a handful of photos before it saw me at the window and leapt from its perch in a black walnut tree.

Red-shouldered hawk

Though similar, this bird of prey is smaller than the red-tailed hawk and is easy to identify by its black tail with narrow white bands.

On Saturday, while moving Sweet Betsy trilliums (T. cuneatum) from a soon-to-be utilized city easement at the bottom of our property, I came across a small worm snake (Carphophis ameonus) in the leaf litter.  It was tiny, but not shy about its displeasure, which it expressed with non-stop writhing and, once, by biting my glove.

Worm snake

Notice the pink underbelly, which you can just see in the neck region.

I see these little snakes, which grow just a foot in length, in the garden quite often and they always make me smile.  I’m a bit worried I haven’t seen any black snakes yet, but perhaps it’s still a bit early.

Trillium cuneatum

Most of the trilliums were moved with as much soil around their roots as possible, but I shook these free so you could get a look at their rhizomes.  The smaller, which lost its foliage in digging, was positioned against the larger plant.

Common five-lined skink

Later, while pulling violas from a container, I unearthed a sleeping five-lined skink (Plestiodon fasciatus).  This quick-footed creature is impossible to catch when fully awake, so I was lucky to hold it for a photo.  Minutes later I saw it had already found a friend and was cavorting in the rock wall, so no harm done.

Finally, here a few favorite blooms to brighten your day.  I hope you’re enjoying a spring as beautiful as the one we are having here!

Tulips on the front stoop

 

Spanish bluebells

And mayapples (Podophyllum) in the woodland, just beginning to flower

 

 

 

 

The Good, the Bad and the Beautiful

The most amazing thing has happened in my little office nook this week, not once, but twice! Hearing a loud buzzing noise, I turned to the open window to see a humming bird flitting from corner to corner before taking off for parts unknown. I was so startled, it took me a moment to realize the tiny bird was collecting spider webs for nest building!

My work space…and window on the world.

A couple weeks ago, I treated myself to a humming bird feeder because I was hoping to entice one of its visitors to build a nest in the garden. Now, if I can only discover its home, I’ll be able to watch the humming bird care for its young…at a distance, of course.

On the other end of the happiness scale, I’ve been exasperated to find that a recently purchased peony was not what I expected.

Despite its tag, this Paeonia is NOT ‘Festiva Maxima’

Though I really don’t have enough sun, I can’t give up the idea of having a peony without a try. So last week, I was careful to select a ‘Festiva Maxima’ because it’s the best performer in our region. When I found the peony in bloom on Monday morning, however, the plant did not have the heavenly fragrant, double white blooms with crimson flecks which I was expecting. As Charlie Brown would say, “AAUGH!”

Thankfully, there are a few wonderful things happening in the garden now too. The shade-tolerant Applejack rose is blooming on the new trellis, perfuming the front garden with the scent of fruit and cloves.

Shade-tolerant, disease-resistant, hardy, and fragrant…its no wonder this short climber is one of Dr. Buck’s most popular roses.

The white Japanese roof iris is lending elegance to the back garden.

Japanese roof iris (I. tectorum)

And the mayapple, a favorite native plant, is in bloom in the woodland.

Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum)

The fruit produced by the flower is eaten by the eastern box turtle and a number of small mammals, but all other parts of the plant are poisonous. In fact, chemicals derived from mayapple are currently used to treat some types of cancer.

The amazing mayapple (Podaphyllum peltatum)

My Garden this Weekend–April 6, 2014

I’ve had two days in the garden in the past week and things are showing enough improvement to give an update. On Wednesday I transplanted roughly 3 dozen Sweet Betsy trilliums from the development site off Pleasantburg Drive (about a city block from my back garden through the woods). I also finally emptied the last plants from the holding area. Nearly all went in the woodland, with those needing the most sun being planted closest to the river or in little pockets of light, here and there.

Saturday was devine, with temps in the 70s and plenty of sun. Tim helped me move another dozen or so trilliums plus a few Christmas ferns and then I marked all the native plants (130+) in the woodland with new orange flags. Marking the plants is important, at least for now, so I don’t loose track of them when they’re dormant. Finally, I worked on pulling the little bits of ivy that show up in spring and other small tasks that always pile up but seldom get done.

Woodland garden with flags marking native plants.

Carolina silverbell (Halesia tetraptera)

The Carolina silverbell are in full flower, with their white hoop skirt-like blooms hanging in clusters below the braches. I counted roughly a dozen types of pollinators, mostly bees, among the blooms.

Bumble bee among the blooms of Carolina silverbell.

The second most exciting thing to happen in the woodland is the emergence of the mayapples. You can tell right from the get-go if the plant will have a bloom or not, as the shoot comes up with the flower bud at its tip.

Mayapple shoots, one with flower bud and one without.

Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum)

In just a few days the leaves take on their umbrella shape and begin to rise above the bloom. In time, the flowers produce a fleshy, egg-shaped fruit that is edible when ripe, but all other parts of the mayapple are highly poisonous to humans and most other animals.

Flower buds on the sweet shrubs are roughly the size of an English pea. The honey-scented blooms of Fothergilla are beginning to form, and just above the retaining wall, the serviceberry are flowering. Best of all, I caught sight of a giant turtle in the river.

Sweet shrub (Calycanthus floridus)

Fothergilla major

Serviceberry (Amelanchier x grandiflora)

Turtle!

And here are a few signs of spring in the front garden.

White dogwood (Cornus florida) and azaleas.

Fullmoon Japanese maple (Acer japonicum)

Blue starflower (Ipheion uniflorum)

Pink dogwood (Cornus florida rubra)

Keeping Spring

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt. Margaret Atwood

Table Rock

Who could disagree? Especially on the first day of the season, when wildflowers are blooming in abundance along the trail to Station Cove Falls, not too far beyond Table Rock on Hwy. 11, just an hour or so from Greenville.

Not me.

I want to keep spring with wet knees in pursuit of wildflower photos and a dirty bottom from picnicking under a waterfall on an immense, lichen-covered boulder.

Yellow-flowered form of sweet Betsy (Trillium cuneatum)

Station Cove, located between the steep slopes of the Blue Ridge Mountains and the rolling hills of the Piedmont, is the perfect place to do so. In March, this unique habitat is one of the best spots to find a wide variety of indigenous species, as well as enjoy the natural beauty of our region.

Sweet Betsy (Trillium cuneatum)

The mostly-flat trail, just three-quarters of a mile long, offers an easy hike among large communities of sweet Betsy trillium and mayapples, plus smaller groups of bloodroot, liverleaf, rue anemone, little brown jugs, rattlesnake orchid, and several species of violets.

Emerging colony of mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum)

Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum)

The mayapples produce umbrella-like leaves on two types of stems: singles and forks. The forks have a branched stem with two leaves and a single flower at the junction of the leafstalks. In the photo above, you can see the flower bud between the foliage. As the plant continues to grow, the leaves will reach inches above the white flower which turns downward as it blooms.

Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis)

I’m completely enamored with the short-lived but cheerful blooms of bloodroot. Though flowers are fleeting, the shade-tolerant herb retains its leaves through the summer, which actively grow and, in time, reach four to eight inches in diameter.

Liverleaf (Hepatica acutiloba)

Liverleaf gets its common name from the distinctive shape of its foliage. Interestingly, each flower stalk lengthens and bends to the ground as its bloom fades, making it easier for ants to collect and disperse the seeds. When flowering is complete, the reddish-brown foliage dies and the plant produces a new set of green leaves which persist until the following spring.

Rue anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides)

The small, delicate-looking rue anemone is actually quite hardy and will survive hard frosts. The species is easy to differentiate from others in our region, as it is the only one which produces umbels of flowers, with each stalk offering one central and up to four lateral blooms.

Little brown jugs (Hexastylis arifolia)

I removed the surrounding leaf litter to find the unopened bloom of this Hexastylis, which gives the plant its common name of little brown jugs. Alternately, some folks call them “little pigs.” Seedlings of this species develop slowly; it can take seven or more years before the first flower is produced.

Halberdleaf yellow violet (Viola hastata) and (at bottom left) rattlesnake orchid (Goodyera pubescens)

When not in bloom, the Halberdleaf violet can be identified by its arrowhead-shaped leaves mottled with silvery blotches. The rattlesnake orchid’s distinctive network of white veins and broad stripe on its midrib do the same. But while the violet blooms in early spring, the orchid produces its 15-inch tall bloom spike in July or August.

Station Cove Falls

The reward at the trail’s turn around is a stepped 60-foot waterfall. Swollen with water from recent rains, Station Creek splashed over the mountain’s face in a dramatic cascade. Anne, my hiking companion, and I enjoyed our snack lunch of crackers, cheese, and fruit, on an immense boulder at the base of the waterfall. We spotted a number of birds in nearby trees, as well as a bat scooping insects just above the surface of the creek.

Station Creek Falls, filled with recent rain, from my lunch perch atop an immense boulder.

Buckeye (Aesculus)

The many buckeye trees near the waterfall had already sprouted foliage. By leafing out early, the tree gets a boost from unimpeded sunlight. Flower clusters, which typically begin to open in April, are said to lure hummingbirds north on their spring migration.

Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis)

Though salamanders proved elusive, I was able to capture two fair images of the Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis), the first scampering from under doghobble (Leucothoe) in spring green dress, and the second cloaked in drab brown atop a log, warming itself in the sunshine.

Caroline anole (Anolis carolinensis)

It was a happy, satisfying hike; an exercise I hope to repeat many times in the coming weeks as the season progress and more wildflowers come into bloom. And yes, I must have smelled like dirt at the end of the day.

How did you celebrate your first glorious day of spring?

End of Month View–August 2013

Today, I’m joining Helen of The Patient Gardener’s Weblog in an end-of-the month look at a small part of the garden. Though Helen makes a comprehensive check of her front garden each month, I’m providing a quick look at the garden terrace near the Reedy River; an area which has flooded several times this summer because of excessive rain.

For reference, here’s what the area looked like when the river overflowed both banks on August 8th. In this pic, taken from my home’s back deck, you can see that water has breached the bank upstream and is washing through the garden. The river also overflowed the far bank, flooding a large area to the north. The photo below shows a similar view today, with the river only slightly higher than normal for this time of year.

When standing next to the river looking east, its easy to see the outline of the slope from the area behind the house to the Reedy, as well as the rise of the bank. You can also see where the low morning sun breaks the canopy cover of the hardwood trees and where shade predominates. Taking fifteen or so steps forward and turning south shows the house above the upper retaining wall, with the area of Japanese knotweed infestation in the foreground. Each of the small red flags on the middle terrace mark a spot where mayapples or trilliums grow.

Seeds of the knotweed were brought in by previous floods, of course. It’s interesting, too, that the infestation occurs where the last bit of wash settles and also where there is sufficient sunlight. After three years, Tim and I have fingers crossed that we’re finally beginning to see a measure of success from the persistent cutting, digging, spraying, and solarizing. We know we will always need to be vigilant, however.

Since we’re still fighting the nasty invasive, little has been planted on the lower terrace. Three native dogwood trees, added this spring, are flourishing though.

With weeds kept in check, one plant that’s making an impressive comeback is a native fern. When a frond pops up, it quickly spreads to establish a colony. You can see the largest area here, but the fern is beginning to take hold in other spots too.

Native fern

My upstream neighbor has a nice stand of autumn clematis and handful of cardinal flowers. With any luck, I’m hoping a few of these good seeds will make their way to our garden soon.

Autumn clematis (C. terniflora)

Cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis)

When we moved here in September 2010, you could barely see the river from the house. In addition to the Japanese knotweed, the woodland was a jungle of English ivy, Chinese privet, honeysuckle vines, and other non-native species and unwanted plants. Although it doesn’t look like we’ve done much, a good bit of effort has gone into clearing and battling foe. This winter, I’m planning to lay out pathways and begin a long-range planting scheme.