April 8, 2019
Something worth noting about today’s outing was the abundance of Western Trillium (Trillium ovatum). There were dozens of them scattered throughout the forest, everywhere I looked. A reminder of the warm weather coming our way- indicating that Spring has truly arrived and is here to stay. Their elegant three white petals brilliantly glistening with dew, perched upon the supersized leaves beneath. Their stalks growing skyward, reaching towards breaks in the canopy- raising each graceful flower to be warmed by the sun. Some stood alone, while others were clustered amongst neighboring friends. These wild beauties are enchanting, truly a sight to see. In my youth I was cautioned against picking them- taught that they were rare and special. Turns out there’s actually a scientific point behind that. If the plant is picked too many years in a row, or heavily browsed by deer, there is a chance they won’t grow back. Sure, flowers grow all the time- but this one has an impressive lifespan of two decades when established in the proper niche. Especially if it has access to rich soil and plenty of light. When you consider how slowly they develop and spread, it makes it even more exciting to stumble upon them along a wooded trail. Each trillium popping up from their hidden rhizomes safely tucked beneath the winter leaf-litter. The older flowers turning pink, than purple, before withering and dropping to the ground to join the rest of the recycled debris. Their contribution will add to the health for the following years bloom- and their aging process is a marvelous sight to behold.
In addition to the Trillium blooming, the vibrant green colors all around me were another reminder of the changing seasons. The forest is always alive, continuously active and productive- but in April it’s dramatically revealed to those who seek it. Fresh buds practically growing before my very eyes, leaves unfurling, fiddleheads uncurling, vines creeping, moss thickening with abundant rain, birds’ beaks brimming with nesting material, and mushrooms saying their final farewells before the true heat arrives. All these signs were seen today, and so much more. Indeed, it is spring!
Even while being pulled by pup down the trail, I made time to stop and examine the micro-world at my feet. This is one of my very favorite things to do. Folded over with one knee crammed into my chest and the other on the ground, leaning forward for a closer look. This is a posture you can often find me in, along with kneeling, toes bent and planted underneath, with my nose inches above the soil. I can’t deny that you might even find me lying flat on my stomach at times, propped up on my forearms to directly stare at some small plant or critter. I guess I can’t truly explore the forest without getting directly into it. Wet dirt-stained knees are a common occurrence in my life, just like my grungy pants as a kid from the irresistible sap and grass all about. I guess you could say I never fully grew out of it. But I think that’s a great thing- the decision to disregard general appearance in exchange for the opportunity to learn something real, first-hand. To get dirty, crack a fingernail, get twigs in your hair, explore and discover at your own pace. It’s a quirk of mine, that’s for sure. I imagine the occasional hiker has walked past me wondering what I was up to- but I’m generally too engrossed to notice. When I get a goofy look I simply respond with a “Hi there” and offer a warm smile before refocusing on my inquiry.
Following that fashion, I made quite a little list today:
-Dew drops trickling down the leaf of a young Indian plum tree.
-An assortment of moist mushrooms hidden amongst the downed fir-cones and discarded needles.
-Badge Moss growing in a thick carpet across the ground.
-Bright yellow mushrooms that I was ridiculously excited to find. Like seriously, I lost my mind a little bit and skip-hop-danced down the trail. After much time spent searching, I later identified them as Yellow Fieldcap mushrooms (Bolbitius titubans). The goofy thing about them is that their scientific name loosely translates to “staggering in cow dung”. Really lovely right? Looking closer at the picture I took I realized they were growing in horse manure, makes sense to me now!
-A crazily-patterned moth with mint-green, gray and black ridges tucked against the base of a wet cedar tree. I’ll admit, I stared at that fellah for quite a while. For all I know it was staring right back, wondering the same things I was….
-Numerous little white butterflies dancing back and forth across the trail. Drifting in a gentle zig-zag pattern, spiraling lower and lower until landing on the thick herbaceous thickets. Stopping for a moment to rest on a leaf, opening and closing their wings to bathe in the stream of sunlight reaching the forest floor.
-The lacy, fern-like leaves of Bleeding heart clustered in matts stretched alongside the path. Their familiar purple drooping flowers not yet ready to burst forth.
-The Velcro-like Cleaver plant stretching upwards, before growing too tall and leaning sideways against their neighbors. When I find thick patches I always push my hand into the middle to feel the leaves cling to my skin or stick a stem against my shirt before continuing onwards.
-Yellow wood violet emerging from the saturated soil- a stark contrast to the green and brown tones
-Stopping at a nurse stump to photograph a precious little mushroom growing sideways. Leaning in for a closer look to discover a spider spinning its web inches from my shoulder. Good thing I noticed before damaging the handiwork (or should I say abdomen work…..spiders have no hands). Watching this incredibly intricate process for several minutes, I sit transfixed as it weaves in and out repeatedly- a memorized routine that all spiders are born with. I’ve always been so impressed by this artwork. A tiny fly zips by through a gap in the center of the orb, and within minutes the spider has sealed up the imperfection and continued on its task of damage control.
-Crouching even lower to peer up at the web from another angle, I catch movement out of my peripheral vision. It’s a snail- how exciting! I slowly shift to the side to give it plenty of room, but it’s too late- this movement I perceive as gentle has caused vibrations across the soil surface. The snail quickly retreats into its shell, the tentacles shrinking and disappearing. Goodbye for now little guy.
Comments