New Deck and Garden Musings

The new deck for our house is finally complete! The actual building stage only took the work crew a week, but preparing for the work--obtaining the approval of the homeowner's association and the building permit--had started back in early May.

We're waiting for delivery of  the new table and chairs sometime in the first week of September so that we can enjoy dinners outdoors. In the meantime, our next door neighbors were so kind as to loan us two Adirondack chairs so we could sit outside on summer evenings for that magical golden hour.

I look forward to furnishing the deck with some potted plants and benches next year, as well as adding  the stairs and a flagstone patio at the walkout basement door. In the meantime, work on the landscape continues. In June we added a large Japanese zelkova tree to the side yard which you can see here behind Herb.

Here's a two shots of the front of the house--the first one from last year, the one below this year--it shows a little bit of progress though not very dramatic.

Summer 2012

Summer 2013

Western side.

Eastern side.

Sketching the Purple Fringed Orchid, Finally

Close-up of flower showing the pollinia.

 Two days after our hike on the Mill Prong Trail, I went back to sketch the purple fringed orchids we had found near one overlook. It looked as if showers were once again in the forecast, but my window of opportunity for this rare species was closing fast--the flowers would not last much longer. If I wanted to sketch them for my certificate project, now was the time.

I started out a bit later than I hoped and didn't stop at any overlooks, but a cloudburst came as I was approaching Thornton Gap. I pulled in at one of the overlooks and ate my sandwich in the car while it rained. Watching other people stopping at the overlook was entertaining: traditional families with children or grandparents with grandchildren taking photos, climbing over rocks, couples admiring the scenery, motor-bikers stopping to pull on rain gear, many of these folks international in origins, all this activity was reassuring... the human reactions to the natural spectacle seemed so predictable, regardless of the cultural origins.

After the rain passed, I continued on to my site and parked at a pull-off. I put on my orange safety vest and backpack, and walked towards the orchids. I found six more flowering spikes I hadn't seen before very close to the pull-off. A couple of them were just at the perfect stage, the flowers pristine, but spring water pooled at their feet, and I would have to set my stool right in the middle of the flow to sketch them. I kept on toward the plant I had seen two days before--the lower flowers had been fertilized and were starting to form seeds, but the location was better--I could see the entire plant, including the lower leaves if I pushed the underbrush out of the way. I set my stool next to it.

Mosquitoes and bugs buzzed in the shade, and here I'd forgotten to spray myself with repellent (I'm so allergic to insect bites every sting turns into days of torture afterwards). I'd have no peace to concentrate on my art work, so it was better to leave my stuff there and go back to the car to spray myself.

Back at my task, the plant was not easy to sketch--or photograph. The individual flowers are less than one inch in length, and grow all around the spike in a spiral pattern. They have complex details, such as the long nectary spur at the back that is easy to confuse with the flower stem, and the showy lip split into three fringed lobes that has a spot of white at the base. I probed the flowers gently to better understand the arrangement of their parts and how they all fit together.

 

 

Platanthera grandiflora Sketch of the flowers.

Platanthera grandiflora Sketch of the leaves.

It took a while to do two sketches, which I split into upper and lower portions of the plant. After finishing, I took as many close-up photos as possible and headed home, happy to have accomplished my purpose. It took a lot of effort, but I finally got my sketches of the beautiful purple fringed orchid!

Purple Fringed Orchid, plant with leaves.

Flower spike.

A Wealth of Unusual Plants on Skyline Drive

Purple Fringed Orchid (Platanthera grandiflora).

On the Fourth of July David and Herb joined me for a hike at Shenandoah National Park. I wanted to explore the Mill Prong Trail to look for another orchid new to me: the round leaved orchid (Habenaria orbiculata). David didn't arrive until early afternoon, and storm clouds were gathering as we set out toward the park's north entrance. It began to pour just as we were starting to rise on Skyline Drive, but we soon drove out of that one cloudburst, only to drive through a few more. The air became fresher and cooler as we gained altitude and the sky began to clear.

By the time we reached the area where the purple fringed orchids grow the rain was over; I thought we might as well stop for a quick check on the orchids. I had brought the digital camera David loaned me and his telephoto lens, so the three of us walked along the road, and lo and behold, there were a few more orchids growing along the bank, in a more accessible place than the four plants on the rock ledge from my previous visit. This was great! I could come back in a day or two to do the sketches for my project.

We pushed on towards Big Meadows and the Mill Prong Trail, stopping at the Visitor center for directions to the trail head and a map. It was about five by the time we hit the trail. The trail through the forest was quite muddy from the recent rains, but that made it seem more promising. Shortly after, Herb spotted the first of a colony of Indian Pipe flowers (Monotropa uniflora) emerging from the forest floor.

Indian Pipe Flower (Monotropa uniflora)

There were lots of other mushrooms too. I recognized the poisonous Russula emetica, and saw others that looked as if they might make a wonderful meal, like the one below.

Russula emetica

We crossed the first of several streams, and on the other side of the stream I spotted a spike of greenish-white flowers. The rounded leaves at the base left no doubt that this was the orchid Habenaria orbiculata that I was looking for. The flowers seemed a bit past their prime, and I found only two other specimens nearby. The light was fading fast, making it difficult to photograph.

Round Leaved Orchid (Habenaria orbiculata)

Looking down among the orchid leaves I saw a few tiny, odd-looking yellowish clusters and recognized them as seeds of squaw root (Conopholis americana); I had not seen the plant at this interesting stage before.

Conopholis americana setting seed

I would have liked to continue hiking down to the Rapidan Camp but it was getting late--it would take another hour or more to drive back to Front Royal, so it seemed wiser to leave our explorations for another day.

On the drive back we saw a wild turkey with one chick walking at a bend of the road. The location was so close to where I'd seen what I thought was a pheasant a few weeks earlier, I wondered if what I'd seen could have been this wild turkey instead. If it was the same bird, her brood had been three of four then.

Further north, a furry black creature crossed the road just ahead of us, in a flash. Herb immediately said "dog" until I reminded him that unleashed dogs were not allowed in the park--and, it didn't run like a dog--it could only have been a bear cub. Where was mama bear? It was late in the day and with most visitors gone, the wildlife was making the most of the opportunity.

David and I at Old Rag Mountain overlook.

So Near and Yet so Far

Purple Fringed Orchid buds.

Last Saturday I went back to Skyline Drive for another try at the purple fringed orchid. After corresponding with the park botanist, I had narrowed my search to one area where I had looked before. The morning was gorgeous, clear and pleasantly cool; hikers, bikers, campers and all sorts of visitors were out enjoying it. I headed straight for my site without stopping at any of the overlooks, and got there around noon.

I put on a neon orange safety vest I'd taken on the advice of the botanist, who had warned me that the orchids grew very close to the road. I took only my camera as I started walking north, facing the oncoming traffic. It was obvious why I'd been warned--there was only a ditch perhaps 18" wide between a steep rock wall and the pavement, and blind curves. Water dripped from springs below the rock wall and flowed along the ditch into storm drains that took it under the road to continue flowing down the mountain side.

The vegetation along this stretch consisted of Virginia waterleaf, yellow daisies (hawkweed), saxifrage, violets, mosses, ferns, nothing very unusual. Then I looked up--about 6 or 7 feet above the ground on a ledge, I saw a small flower stalk with round lilac-pink buds--could this be it? The leaves were orchid-like, the overall size about right. There were a couple of similar plants near by, the buds not yet showing color. This had to be my orchid! I took a few shots with the zoom on my telephoto, but it was not enough to get any details of the plant. How could I get closer?

I continued walking by the side of the road, hoping to spot another orchid or two growing closer to the ground, or in the ditch. I walked all the way past the springs, and back. No, it seemed the orchids grew only on that particular rock. Why only there? Other than the moisture from the springs, I could see no other clues as to how it came to grow there. Most terrestrial orchids need mycorrhizal fungi to develop, which is why they are usually found in forests where these fungi grow on tree roots. Could these orchids have grown further up the wooded hill and have washed down onto the rock during a powerful storm? It was worth checking out.

I looked around for a likely place to climb up the steep bank and found a spot some twenty yards beyond the rocks. I pulled myself up with the help of low-hanging tree branches, taking care of where I stepped. The uneven rocky surface was carpeted with a thick layer of dry leaves, masking holes and other hazards (perhaps even snakes!), and I wasn't wearing hiking boots, only my beat-up garden shoes. The terrain didn't look very promising for orchids-- too dark and dry, with only a few saplings on the forest floor. I managed to pick my way towards the orchid rock, hoping to at least photograph from above. Sketching in situ would be impossible. It proved way too steep for me to get any closer, so I finally gave up and turned back.

On to Big Meadows for lunch. Afterwards, I decided to break in my new hiking boots on one of the easy trails there.  I came across a thicket of false hellebores (Veratum viride) on the Story of the Forest trail. The hellebore leaves bear a resemblance to the yellow lady's slipper orchid, but are huge, so at first I thought these might be orchids, but their small six-petaled green flowers gave them away as members of the lily family. Out west in the Rockies there is a plant with similar leaves that they call corn lily.

False hellebore (Veratum viride)

There was fly poison in bloom all along the drive--such an unappetizing name for a pretty flower--and here was some along this trail. My feet began to rebel against the new boots on the last mile, and the morning's adventure had tired me out more than I cared to admit. Much as I wanted to prolong  the lovely day, it was time to head back.

Fly poison (Amianthium muscaetoxicum)

I guess if I want to sketch the purple fringed orchid for my botanical project, I must find another population of them in a more accessible place. In the meantime, I may continue to look for other native orchids on Skyline Drive.

Flowers Among the Clouds

Mountain Laurel on Skyline Drive.

My search for native orchids took me to Skyline Drive last weekend. The day was overcast, the mountains veiled in cloud as I approached the north entrance to the park (Shenandoah National Park). As my car began the curving ascent along the ridge, it was as if the season was being wound back to spring--here the honey locusts were still blooming, and at the higher elevations, the oak leaves were just beginning to unfurl.

The star of the forest at this time of the year is the mountain laurel. Thickets of Kalmia latifolia grow as the understory plant for miles along Skyline Drive as it winds its way around the mountain tops. The native rhododendrons had finished blooming and were sending out new green shoots amid dried blooms. I wished I had been able to see them at their peak, but the gorgeous mountain laurel was more than a consolation.

For some weird reason, the portion of Skyline Drive just south of Thornton Gap and Mary's Rock Tunnel seems to be where the mist becomes thickest. No matter how many times I pass this spot, it always seems to be enveloped in cloud, and today was no different. At times the fog was so thick one couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.

 I continued on towards Big Meadows, stopping off at an overlook here and there. I was getting back on to the road after a stop when I spotted what looked like a moving stick poking out of the underbrush. The stick moved farther out and I could see a large bird with a long tail walking across the road. Could it be a wild turkey? No, not big enough--the bird was leading her brood of chicks across the road--what could it be???  Why it was a pheasant! I stopped right there in the middle of the road to try to get a photo, and was just getting my frame in focus when a car coming the other way hurried the pheasant and her brood onto the other side. Once the car passed, still holding my camera, I stopped again (no one was behind me) but the pheasants had vanished into the brush without a trace. Who would ever believe me without a photo?

Once at the Big Meadows Visitor Center I asked if they had anyone knowledgeable on wildflowers, and they pointed me to ranger Mara. She knew the orchid I sought and pointed me towards two possible sites--she wasn't sure which one, both were a bit farther north, the way I'd come. It was worth a shot.

At the first site I walked beside the road going south and came upon one yellow lady's slipper orchid (by now I know the plant well so I can spot it easily). The spent blossom was completely dried but still hanging on, and a  seed pod appeared to be forming, an auspicious sight. I continued for a pace, until the terrain seemed less promising and turned around to explore the northern portion. No purple fringed orchids here as far as I could see.

Yellow lady's slipper orchid plant

I drove to the next possible site and repeated the procedure. I didn't see any orchids, and realized of course it was probably futile--I didn't know the plant well enough to recognize it when not in bloom, and by all accounts, the orchid would probably not bloom until a couple of weeks later this year because of the very cold spring. It would be best to go back and try to find some photos on line to get a better idea of what the plant looks like.

No sketches for today. I stopped to photograph other wild flowers, which were plenteous: bowman's root along shady banks of the road, goat's beard, and bladder campion, which I don't think I've ever seen, or at least noticed before.

Bowman's root (Gillenia trifoliata)

Goat's beard (Aruncus dioicus)

Bladder campion (Silene cucubalus)

While driving back, the sun began to emerge from behind the clouds. My eyes could pick out wild columbines in the sunlight here and there, though never at a place where one could stop to take a photo. I'll be back next week to search again. Perhaps by then the orchids may be in bloom.

Looking west at the valley.

Hunting for Orchids on Wildcat Mountain

Looking down the trail

Last Sunday I went hiking on Wildcat Mountain, a nature preserve owned and managed by The Nature Conservancy in Virginia. I had read in "Finding Wildflowers in the Washington-Baltimore Area" by Cristol Fleming, Marion Blois Lobstein and Barbara Tufty (a book that has been an invaluable resource), that three species of orchids I had never seen before could be found on Wildcat Mountain: Wister's coralroot, lily-leaved twayblade, and puttyroot. Coming across any of these unusual species for the first time would be exciting, and the need to complete my sketches before the orchid blooming season ended spurred me to try the hike as soon as possible.

The Wildcat Mountain website had very useful information about the trails and a map, both of which I printed and packed along with my sketchpad and gear. The written guide and topographic map revealed that it would be an uphill climb with several switchbacks up to the top of the ridge. From there, the main trail circled along the crest of the hill in a wide loop, at times paralleling old stones walls that marked the boundaries of former farm properties.

As I got out of my car, a loud buzz pervaded the entire mountainside. I asked a couple parked next to me if they knew what the noise was, and they replied that it was the hum of the17-year locusts. I had forgotten that the intermediate brood, as these are called, was due to hatch this spring. The main brood was last seen in 2003 and won't be hatching again until the spring of 2020. We've seen none of the locusts at our house in Front Royal, but my co-workers who live in northern VA tell me they have been hatching in their area.

I started up the trail--the terrain was heavily wooded--huffing and puffing my way to the top where the trail split in two. The map indicated that there was an old farm pond and a spring-house at about the halfway point of the loop. I figured this might be the most likely spot for orchids, so I took the right fork. The trail  paralleled an old stone fence, and further down I noticed small holes on the ground. I deduced these must be insect holes, and sure enough, saw several newly hatched cicadas nearby, drying their wings amid the foliage. Oddly, the buzzing sound was not as pervasive here as on the western slope. The breeze among the treetops seemed to be the only sound.

Swallowtail butterflies, both the yellow and dark, fluttered around me, performing their mating dances. I passed the partially-drained scummy pond and poked around the spring-house, slowing down to look more closely at clumps of vegetation off the side of the trail--nothing. The orchids were not likely to be conveniently located by the side of the  trail as at Thompson Wildlife. How would I ever find them?

I started looking for side trails--perhaps other orchid lovers had been here, found them and left tracks that would be noticeable?  I called out to the orchids in my mind, hoping their inconspicuous flowers would materialize in front of my eyes, and prayed my eyes would become sharp enough to discern them.

Stepping across a rivulet, I saw an unmarked but definite trail going off to the left--and decided to take it. After walking a bit I started having second thoughts--it was not wise to wander off trail in an unfamiliar place, and I should go back. I peered into the shadows of the trees, hoping for a glimpse. And then I spotted it--a small spike in the shadows. Could it be? Getting closer I could see the flowers were half-open, yellow-green with reddish brown, and there was another smaller spike nearby. Yes, this had to be one of the orchids I sought, but which one? Did it matter? The important thing was to sketch it.

Puttyroot orchid (Aplectrum hyemale)

I pulled my sketchpad and pencils out of the pack, laid my parka on the ground and sat down to sketch. The orchid seemed to have no leaves, though I found one dried, heavily veined leaf clinging to the stem, which I collected for identification. How could the leaf become so dry in so short a time, unless it was last year's? I looked for other leaves but found none.
 

Puttyroot leaf

Could this be Wister's coralroot? The flowers were so tiny I took out my magnifying glass to get a closer look. The lip had a few purple spots but so tiny as to be barely noticeable. The flowers were half closed, perhaps a little past their prime. In fact, it was really hard to photograph the entire plant in the dappled light--my camera's settings kept wanting to focus on the background rather than the flowers.

I finally resorted to using my sketchpad as the backdrop to photograph the flower spike so it could stand out from the background.

After compelting my sketch and notes I packed my stuff and poked around a bit more--where there are one or two orchids, more can usually be found nearby, and I spotted another three plants that I had walked by without seeing before. I thought of trying to find one of the other species, but there was no time. I headed back to the main trail and down the mountain, thinking how fortunate I had been to find one of the orchids.

It wasn't till I got home and did an internet search that I realized this was not Wister's coralroot, which is saphrophytic and has no leaves, but puttyroot, Aplectrum hyemale. The dried leaf was the main clue--the leaves of the puttyroot emerge in the fall and live through the winter to die back the following spring. The orchid's common name derives from the fact that in colonial times, a sticky paste could be made from the corms that was used to glue broken pottery. Each plant has two corms connected by a rope-like tissue, hence its other common name of Adam-and-Eve orchid.

Sketching in a Cloud Forest

The Trillium Trail at Thompson Wildlife

                                                                                                                                                   Last weekend I went out to do field sketches for my certificate project. I sketched the yellow lady's slipper from life on The Trillium Trail last year, so it seemed a logical extension to focus on terrestrial orchids for the certificate project I'm undertaking at Brookside Garden's School of Botanical Illustration. For this project students are supposed to concentrate on three species of plants, using the processes we have learned to develop field sketches into a finished painting of each.

I knew I'd find my second orchid, the showy orchid, also called purple-hooded orchid or Kirtle Pink, (Orchis spectabilis or Galearis spectabilis) on the Trillium Trail at Thompson Wildlife Management. I had not seen any there when Herb and I visited the week before, but I was sure the orchids would be opening their curious flowers by this time.

It was overcast in Front Royal when I set out, and the Blue Ridge was veiled in cloud. As I started to ascend Freezeland Road the fog became so thick one could barely see five feet ahead in places. Normally we think of cloud forests being in Costa Rica or in the South American Andes--who'd have thought Virginia had its own cloud forest?

The forest was lovely in the mist, the fading trillium flowers changing to pink among the lush green understory. The progression of blooms from the previous week was amazing--the violet flowers had disappeared and the May-apples were beginning to take over the forest floor. The crystalline trills of birds echoed in the stillness.

It was quite chilly, so I pulled on my jacket and backpack and started down towards the Appalachian Trail, where I slowed down to a naturalist's pace to study the ground closely. I spotted one of the plants, then another, and another--the flowers were open, and the orchids plentiful!
 

Orchis spectabilis

I selected one specimen and since there was not a soul around, laid out my waterproof poncho as a tarp to sit on the ground right in the middle of the trail, as close as possible to my subject. I was drawing intently, trying to keep the occasional raindrop from wetting my sketchpad when I heard a voice from behind say, "Hmmm, excuse me..." A hiker on the Appalachian Trail was trying to get by. I apologized, moved my gear out of the way as much as I could and asked him if he could step around me, which he managed to do loaded down with a huge, heavy pack.

I asked the gentleman if he was hiking the entire Appalachian Trail and he said yes, he'd started in Georgia back at the beginning of March. I wondered what his daily progress was like, and he responded that it varied, depending on the terrain and the weather, but he was averaging roughly 15 miles a day, and expected to reach the end of the trail in Mt. Katahdin, Maine by early August.

I allowed as someday I'd like to hike a good stretch if not all of the A.T., perhaps after I retire, and he confided that he had retired recently, adding that people were not often aware of the expenses associated with hiking on the A.T. How much did it cost? He had made a lot of his own equipment, but even then, it would cost about five thousand to fifty-five hundred to complete the circuit... then reflected that a 6-month vacation anywhere else would be much more expensive. I agreed.

Field sketch and notes.

Color study done in the studio.

After he left I went back to my sketch, and was finishing my notes when insistent chirps from above made me look up. A colorful small bird with bright orange markings sat on a branch very close to me. It flew away as I was taking my camera out of the case, but lingered nearby. I waited until the bird became visible again and snapped a couple of pix, which came out a bit blurry. I believe it was an American redstart, a small warbler that migrates through this area.

I picked up my gear and continued on down to the fire road loop and back up the hill, checking for yellow lady's slipper orchids along the way. Just as I had suspected, there were lots more flowers this week--I counted about a dozen in one stand, and more than 16 on the upper hillside where an older couple was photographing them. One plant had two flowers, just like the one I sketched last year. Squaw root was also emerging from the ground here and there. It finally warmed up enough on the trek uphill to shed my jacket. Back in the car, I looked down at the clock and was surprised to realize that four hours had elapsed--how time flies while sketching in a cloud forest! The clouds began to dissipate as I drove down the mountain and bright sunshine greeted me at the bottom in Linden.

The Trillum Trail 2013

The Trillium Trail casts a special magic during spring. I was afraid to miss the annual miracle this year--too ironic to contemplate now that we live about 15 miles away rather than nearly a hundred. So, this week on a beautiful evening after work, I dragged Herb out to visit it.

We got there around six-thirty as the sun's rays were slanting low over the ridge. The one person at the site was just leaving. The Trilliums were at their peak as you can see, but at that time of the evening the gnats and insects were starting to become annoying. I looked for the Yellow Lady Slipper orchids and found only two blossoms at the usual place (there usually are more than three plants there). A lot of trees had come down on that side of the trail, so perhaps some of the other plants at this stand had been buried by the timber.

Still, there should have been a lot more plants further down the hill--I remember years when there were Lady Slippers all over the trail. I went off trail to look around and found one only more bloom. Then I saw that there were a few more orchid plants near-by: one of the other plants was in bud, but it hadn't opened yet. Perhaps it was a bit early for the Yellow Ladyslippers, and they are easy to miss among the undergrowth when not in bloom.

Yellow Lady Slipper with Trilliums and Star Chickweed

It was the same story with the Showy Orchis--I couldn't find any tiny plants, much less blossoms in the part of the Appalachian trail where I've seen so many of them over the years. I'll have to come back in another week or two to check. With the unusually cool spring this year, it's quite possible the orchids are late.

There was the usual range of lovely wildflowers found at this time of the year: several varieties of violets in yellow and blue, including halberd-leaved violets, star chickweed, wild geraniums, wood anemones, Early Meadow Rue and both Solomon's Seal and False Solomon's Seal not yet in bloom. Oddly, there was no Squaw Root--so plentiful in other years--to be seen, perhaps because it's been rather dry? I found a tiny plant new to me--only about 3 inches tall, with white flowers, which I have yet to identify. If any readers know what this plant is please let me know.

Poor Herb was having a hard time with the gnats, and trying to fend them off like this:

Birdsong resounded over the hillside on this golden spring evening. I recognized the crystalline music of the rose-breasted grosbeaks, and had hoped to spot some of the birds, but didn't see any. I managed to see a few small warblers, blue-gray above with yellow at the throat, perhaps a bit of rust--they might have been yellow-throated warblers or northern parula warblers--hard to tell in the fading light.