My Top Ten March Blooms

It’s been a long time (149 days to be exact) since I’ve visited you here, but spring inspires and encourages in a way that can’t be denied. And besides, what better time is there to write about a garden, especially a shady garden, than when it offers its finest flowers. So here is a happy look at the best of March with a nod to Chloris at the Blooming Garden and the other bloggers who post their top ten at the close of each month.

Halesia carolina is the undisputed Queen of this Upstate garden, where it grows in abundance on a north-east facing hillside reaching down to the Reedy River.

Halesia carolina

Commonly called Carolina Silver Bell, this medium size tree can reach 30 to 40 feet tall and nearly as wide under a broken canopy of towering hardwoods. Just as its leaves begin to emerge, the tree blooms  with bell-shaped white flowers that look like old-fashioned petticoats and then, later, it forms four-winged seedpods that often persist into winter. In autumn, its deciduous foliage turns a rich golden yellow.

Although the Erythronium americanum (trout lilies) and Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot) have completed their bloom period, there is still a mix of wildflowers to be found in the woodland.

Trillium cuneatum

Trillium cuneatum (little sweet Betsy) ranks high on my list of favorites. Arising from a fleshy rhizome, each stem has a whorl of three leaves topped by a single flower with three petals. This species is the largest and most vigorous of the sessile trilliums found in the eastern U.S.  If you’re willing to get down on your knees for a whiff, you’ll find it has a slightly sweet fragrance reminiscent of bananas.

Jeffersonia diphylla

Known as twin leaf (for obvious reasons), Jeffersonia diphylla was named by John Bartram to honor the third U.S. President. Unlike the above trillium, which is naturally occurring here, this species was purchased and added to the woodland garden a few years ago. The southern end of its range includes the mountains of Tennessee and Georgia. Surprisingly, it is a member of the Barberry family.

Mertensia virginica

Many will recognize Martensia virginica, called Virginia bluebells, which are easy to grow in the right conditions (rich, moist soil and full to part shade), but seem to spread ever so slowly. With luck and patience, they form loose clumps about 18-inches wide.

Rhododendron austrinum

In a nearby opening with a bit more sun, I’ve planted a collection of native deciduous azaleas, including this Rhododendron austrinum, known as the Florida flame azalea, or sometimes called the honeysuckle azalea. As you would guess from its common names, its fragrant blooms create a show-stopping display.

Above the river terraces, the back garden features two ‘Autumn Brilliance’ Amelanchier x grandiflora, better known as serviceberry.

Amelanchier x grandiflora ‘Autumn Brilliance’

A hybrid of two southern natives, the small tree’s March flowers produce May fruits, which are loved by the birds and are a valuable source of food during their nesting season. This particular cultivar is distinguished with strong stems and vibrant orange-red color in autumn.

And here is a quick look at what’s blooming in the ornamental spaces surrounding the house:

Ajuga reptans ‘Chocolate Chip’

The dwarf ‘Chocolate Chip’ ajuga makes a handsome mat of bronze-tinged foliage but, thankfully, doesn’t self-seed as aggressively as many of its kin.

Helleborus foetidus

My favorite hellebore with especially fine foliage and erect stems of lime-green flowers.

Phlox divaricata ‘Blue Moon’

A stunning woodland phlox with outstanding color and very full flower petals.

Dicentra spectabilis

And finally, this eye-catching bleeding heart, an old garden favorite with big, rose-pink flowers on long stems reaching from a beautiful mass of blue-green foliage.

I’m sorry to say I can’t promise an equal number of blooming beauties every month, but I do hope to begin blogging again on a more regular basis.

In the meantime, remember these words written by Christopher Lloyd: “An early spring is always tremendously encouraging, and never mind what follows in the way of April frosts, or what have you. The great thing in life is to fling yourself into wholehearted enjoyment of the present, whenever there’s something to be enjoyed.”

Trillium by Seed

With garden travel and GFWC meetings claiming nearly all of my time in the past month, it’s been a good while since I’ve been able to write for pleasure.  This week, with a family wedding within sight, is no exception, but something happened yesterday I can’t wait to tell you about.

Despite our recent hot and dry weather, it occurred to me that the terrestrial orchids might be flowering in the woodland, so I headed towards the river to look. I didn’t find any orchid blooms, but I did notice that many of the Little Sweet Betsy Trilliums (T. cuneatum) are dying back.  When I bent down to examine one, I reached out and touched the large, burgundy seedpod that had formed at the tip of the stalk, and the pod separated from the plant.  In fact, it easily squished between my fingers like an overripe banana.

Trillium cuneatum dying back as they typically do in July, including a seedpod that squished between my fingers and a second plant with an intact pod.

I had never paid any attention to trillium seedpods in the past. What an amazing discovery!  I could see the pod was filled with 60 or more seeds, each about the size of a bb with a large elaiosome to one side.  An elaiosome is a lipid-rich structure eaten by ants that entices the insects to gather the seeds and move them away from the parent plant, aiding the germination and spread of the species.

What a bonanza! Dreams of thousands of tiny trilliums instantly popped into my head.  Sadly, the excitement lasted roughly 10 minutes—the time it took me to get back to the house, google “trillium grown from seed,” and read it takes nearly two years for seedlings to sprout.  This fun, I’m afraid, will have to wait until retirement, which is six (or more) years away.

I found a fabulous article about the process, however, on the Mt. Cuba Center website. Mt. Cuba is a botanical garden in Delaware (50 acres of display gardens and 500 acres of natural lands) devoted to native plants and ecosystems.  The fascinating piece on growing trillium from seed, written by William Cullina, Director of Horticulture at the Coastal Botanical Garden of Maine and previous Director of Horticultural Research for the New England Wildflower Society in Massachusetts, can be read here.

A closer look at the trillium seed, each with a large elaisome.

While I will not be growing trilliums from seed anytime soon, I plan to take Cullina’s advice to collect seeds and plant them in the woodland garden where I want to establish new colonies. Plus, I’m super excited to have this new info and eye-opening experience with one of my favorite plants.

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

 

 

 

 

In a Vase on Monday–March 21, 2015

Typically, I wouldn’t cut a native trillium for a vase, but the Trillium cuneatum below (commonly called Sweet Betsy, or sometimes Purple Toadshade) was collected for entry into the horticulture division of a recent flower show and, I’m happy to say, won  first place in the bulb/corm/rhizome/tuber class.  Though its foliage is not quite as turgid as it would be in the field, I’ve loved having the bloom on my windowsill and thought you would enjoy a look too.

First place winner!

This native plant is common across the Upstate in moist woodlands with calcium-rich soils derived from limestone.  On particularly favorable sites, thousands of plants can carpet the forest floor.  Since removing English ivy and other invasive species from our woodland garden over the past five years, the trillium has begun to make a strong comeback.  The area pictured below has nearly 60 blooming plants plus many immature specimens.

Trillium cuneatum in the woodland garden.

Surprisingly, we have not had a frost in Greenville in more than four weeks, but the forecast for tonight calls for a low of 34 degrees F.  Though these trilliums will be fine if there is frost, tender plants which have bloomed or leafed out ahead of schedule, such as azaleas and hydrangeas, might suffer.

To see what other gardeners are offering in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden.

A Garden Place (Hortitopia)

On Saturday, I had the good fortune to hike with the Greenville Natural History Association, by invitation of Bill Robertson, an acclaimed Upstate nature photographer.   I was a bit worried about the expedition to Chestnut Ridge, especially after I saw the elevation profile.

Elevation profile of Chestnut Ridge Heritage Preserve

Bill said he was only hiking the first mile, however, and I really should come along.   I’ve been eager to hike with Bill, who’s very generous with his knowledge and encouragement, and decided to plunge in.  Once I met up with the group at the car-pooling location on Saturday, I noted I was younger than most and was optimistic I could hold my own on the trail.

On the ride to the Heritage Preserve, I met and got to know Ian and Jane, members of the Association and frequent hikers.  I later learned Ian routinely hikes 10 miles several times each week and is an excellent photographer, as well as a photography teacher for OLLI at Furman University.

The early blooms on Chestnut Ridge are mostly the same as those in my woodland garden, primarily sweet Betsy trillium (T. cuneatum) and bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), but it was instructive to watch the process of the photographers in the group, who true to Bill’s word, pulled up at the first area of native wildflowers while the rest of the hikers continued on towards the Pacolet River.

I took a few pics with my new camera, a Nikon D7100 which is well beyond my grasp of understanding.  On this occasion, however, I knew time was better spent watching Bill and Ian, who were taking macro shots using a tripod and diffuser.

Bill (holding diffuser) and Ian working on macro image of bloodroot

Bill’s photograph, shown here, uses the stamens of the second flower to create a golden glow around the foreground bloom.

After a while, Ian decided to hike to the river to have lunch with Jane and, foolish in my new-found confidence, I invited myself to go with him to rejoin the group.  As soon as we topped Squirrel Mountain and began the steep decent to the river, I had serious misgivings because I knew the return trip could well get the best of me.

I love hikes that have a treat at the terminus and the Pacolet River didn’t disappoint.  Though the waterway is small, it is located in a deep valley gorge and offers a sandy bank at the river crossing that is perfect for a picnic.  When we arrived, the group was just dusting themselves off for the return hike, so Ian and I quickly ate a few bites.  Lynne, the hike leader, stayed behind to “sweep” and I was much relieved to have a second encourager as we watched the group quickly disappear up the trail.

Pacolet River

On the return, as I usually do when I’m in over my head, I just put my head down and pressed the gas.  Though I was huffing and puffing, our small group was about halfway up Squirrel Mountain when Lynne spied a garter snake writhing beside the path.  Closer inspection showed the snake had snared a Southern Appalachian salamander (Plethodontid teyahalee) and we watched as the snake slowly worked its way from the amphibian’s mid-section down to the tail so it could turn its prey and devour it.

Common garter snake, about 18-inches long, with Southern Appalachian salamander

Garter snake devours its prey

Needless to say, we thought this would be the trill of the trip, but we were surprised a second time only steps beyond the summit, when I discovered a Luna moth (Actias luna), just emerged from its chrysalis and drying in the warm sunshine.

Luna moth (Actias luna)

Luna moth, drying its wings

If you look closely, the moth can be distinguished as a male by its antennae, which are larger and wider than those of the female.  Though not rare, the Luna is seldom found because its life is brief.  The adult doesn’t have a mouth or eat because its single purpose is to mate, and thus it only survives about a week.

Stopping along the way to photograph the snake and moth allowed me to catch my breath.  The return trip was strenuous, but luckily and with many thanks to Ian and Lynne, I made it back to the start of the trail without too much discomfort or embarrassment.

The name of this blog, Hortitopia, is a word (horti + topia = garden + place) made to describe, in part, the amazing region where I live.  I’m grateful every day to enjoy its unique and wonderful species diversity.  To learn more about the Upstate,  read my first blog post here.

A clump of sweet Betsy (Trillium cuneatum) flourishing among a large patch of spring-beauty (Claytonia virginica)

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.  ~ William Shakespeare

Bloom Alert

After another round of slushy snow on Wednesday and Thursday, today is bright and warm, so it’s been hard to stay focused on work.  Needing a break, I pulled my wellies on after lunch for a quick walk to see if any of the woodland natives had “endeavored to persevere” through our extremely cold winter.  I hoped to discover a sign or two of Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot), my favorite spring ephemeral, but couldn’t find a trace.

Surprisingly, however, many of the Trillium cuneatum (sweet Betsy), which I rescued from a nearby area of development last spring, are up and already in bud.  There’s still no sign of other, established trilliums.

Trillium cuneatum (sweet Betsy)

Erythronium americanum, commonly called trout lily for its speckled foliage, is even further along.  One bud has apparently been eaten by a critter, but the rest are within a few days of opening.   The plant, given to me by a friend from her garden in 2013, has bulked up since last year.

Erythronium americanum (trout lily)

I also found foliage of Tipularia discolor (cranefly orchid), easily identified by the dark coloring on the underside of its leaves.  The foliage will die long before flowers appear in late summer.

Tipularia discolor (cranefly orchid)

I often refer to the terraces that extend down to the Reedy River at the rear of our property.  In the upper right-hand corner of the photo below, you can barely see the retaining wall that supports the back garden.   And just to the left of the photo is a second, but shorter, retaining wall.

Woodland between house and river.

Each neon-pink flag marks a spot where an herbaceous plant grows.  Though unsightly now, they help me remember where it’s safe to add new natives, and they’ll be removed when the area is better established.

The garden surrounding the house contains many non-native ornamentals, while the terrace closest to the river cannot be kept clear of non-natives because of periodic flooding.  The woodland shown here, about a quarter acre, is a haven for native plants only.

Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day–April 15, 2014

For Upstate gardeners, and others in our region, it appears to be a matter of enjoying spring blooms while we can, as weather experts are predicting a hard freeze for tonight. Fingers crossed that the cloud cover moves out later than expected, thus improving conditions.

On this wet and windy day, here’s some of the best of what’s blooming in the ornamental garden…

Front garden including white & pink dogwood trees, azaleas, Spanish bluebells, Lenten roses, Japanese maple, and Chocolate Chip ajuga.

Front garden from opposite direction.

Container gardens on front stoop.

Rainbow euphorbia

Variegated Solomon’s seal

Iris cristata

Epimedium grandiflorum

And in the woodland garden…

Sweet Betsy trillium

Wild blue phlox

Carolina silverbell

Sweetshrub

If you have time to visit other gardens around the world, visit Carol at May Dreams Gardens, the host of GBBD.

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)

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday–April 2, 2014–Ahead of the Bulldozer

Sweet Betsy (Trillium cuneatum), right foreground, saved with a little help from its friends. Pleasantburg Drive bridge over the Reedy in the background.

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?