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.

Orchids and Artichokes

Odontoglossum orchid, colored pencil drawing, 17" x 14."

Here's my most recent botanical piece, a colored pencil drawing of my second mystery orchid, which I believe may be an Odontoglossum species or hybrid. The orchid blossoms opened in the middle of March and I documented them here in this posting. The blossoms were starting to fade just as I completed my drawing about a week ago, the last week of April. As the tepals gradually become thinner and more papery with age, the flowers turn dark and eventually fall off.

Artichoke and asparagus, colored pencil drawing, 17" x 14."

Above is a view of the artichoke and asparagus colored pencil drawing done in class--my scanner is too small to do the full page of my sketchbook, so this is a photo showing my test marks for the colors in the upper left hand corner.

Dendrobium bud.

The Dendrobium orchid I bought last fall and painted for my class project has put out a new flowering spike. I wish it had done so a few months earlier as I was struggling to finish the watercolor painting, but considering the plant appeared to be dying, I'm happy to see the resurgence. The orchid has a new growing stem as well as the flower spike. Above is a photo of the buds developing their characteristic spur.

Spring Arrives

A rainbow after the rain.

I've been neglecting my blogging for the past few weeks in favor of working on my garden. Spring has finally arrived in Front Royal, bringing its usual cycle of beauty. The cherry tree in front is blooming and last fall's back-breaking labor is showing nice results with white narcissus and pansies among the sedum ground cover. The three small Korean boxwoods by the porch are putting our new growth after a dose of good garden soil worked in last fall.

The improvements on the evergreens by the porch encouraged me to try a similar treatment on the stunted barberry bushes along the west side of the house and the puny row of arbor vitae in back. I spent a couple of weekend afternoons digging two holes at the base of each plant, removing many large rocks and filling the holes with good potting soil, then mulching the beds. My back gave out before getting to the last three arborvitae--they'll have to wait a bit longer for their treatment.

In the meantime, the Japanese Full Moon maple, the climbing rose and the clematis I had ordered on-line arrived and needed to be planted. I started to strip the skimpy turf at the side of the porch for the rose and clematis, and soon realized the soil there was much too rocky for these plants--I'll have to re-think the location, or create a raised bed there. I have my heart set on training an old fashioned ever-blooming rose, 'New Dawn,' to twine around the posts on the porch so the wonderful scent can greet visitors.

Full Moon Japanese maple unfurls its leaves.

Herb helped me dig the proverbial $20 hole (more like $100 in today's inflated currency) for the full moon maple and we got it into the ground just before the spring rain. As the rain retreated a lovely rainbow appeared.

On another beautiful evening I began to tackle the brambles and weeds invading the strip of back yard that starts to slope down to the ravine. I want to eventually plant some small redbud trees and other flowering bushes there as a transition to the backdrop of tall trees growing in the ravine. Imagine my surprise and delight to find some tiny violets blooming in this inhospitable rocky soil! They appear to be a native variety, not the common European weed-type, so I'll leave them there in hopes they spread over this shady corner.

Wild violets

Drawing with Color Pencils

Pear and Orange, Prismacolor pencils on mat board, 10" x 9."

I really enjoyed the recent Colored Pencil class at Brookside Gardens. Colored pencils were my favorite medium for drawing as a child. My sisters and I had amassed a huge collection of Prismacolor pencils which we would expand during our shopping expeditions to downtown Havana with my mother and aunts. Each of us was allowed to select one pencil for purchase as a reward for good behavior. At the rate of four pencils every other week or so, our collection grew over the years until we had the equivalent of an expensive 120 or 150-color set (of course, favorite colors also had to be replaced often).

I've tried many other mediums since then: watercolor, acrylics, oils, pastels, you name it. To me, colored pencils are still the most portable, easy to use, and versatile. No mess either--nothing to clean up other than pencil shavings and keeping your paper smudge-free. My love affair with them has been re-kindled by this class.

Artichoke with asparagus spear, Prismacolor pencil study, 17" x 11."

There is such an amazing variety of effects you can get with colored pencils, blending and overlaying of colors, along with varying pressure and linework. Prismacolor pencils have a wax base, and the one thing to watch for is that excessive application can cause the wax to rise to the surface over time creating a "wax bloom" that obscures the artwork.

In these botanical illustration classes I have been exposed to another type of colored pencils: Faber Castell's Polychromos pencils, which are oil-based. These are well-suited for shading and adding detail such as veins under watercolor washes. The range of colors is lovely too--I just invested in a 60-color set so I can experiment more with them. I wonder what else can be done with these as a stand-alone medium? Stay tuned.

The Mystery Orchid Blooms

The most recent of my orchids to put out a flowering spike, which I'd been referring to as the "mystery orchid," finally opened! It has very curious flowers, the sepals and laterals petals are a greenish yellow speckled with red-purplish brown spots. The labellum is creamy white, also speckled, sporting the classic mimic bee to attract pollinators.

I wonder what its parentage could be? Odontoglossum seems the most likely, at least from the flower's shape and markings, although it could be a hybrid with perhaps Oncidium. Whatever the hybrid or species may be, I am having a good time sketching it with an eye to doing a finished work later on.

Diane Tesler Workshop

Diane corrects proportions on a student's painting.

Recently I had the privilege of spending a long weekend focused on art. On Saturday I had signed up for Brookside Gardens' colored pencil class. Much as I would have liked to, I was not able to be at Diane Tesler's workshop at VECCA on the first day. I joined the group for the other two days and had an epiphany.

Over the years, other artists have recommended Diane Tesler as a truly accomplished artist and teacher, but I had not had the opportunity to take one of her workshops before. She still teaches classes at the Art League School at the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, though she now lives full-time in Kewanna, Indiana. This weekend was my first chance to work with her, and so conveniently close to my new home.

Diane and students at 7 East Gallery VECCA space.

This workshop has been held for the past 27 years in various locations around Woodstock, VA; some of the students have attended regularly since then. VECCA's 7 East Gallery space has been used for the past 8 years or so. There were 14 of us participating, working mostly in oils, but also in pastel, and space in the gallery was tight; two back rooms absorbed the overflow.

Betty Weathers concentrating on her painting.

Elaine Boomer with her lovely still life.

Diane travels with wonderful props she has collected over the years. She comes in the day before to set up the still lives that the students will work from and the set-ups all seem to evoke something beyond mere objects piled up together... all of her assemblages seem to imply a story, a mood, or theme. Some students prefer to bring in photos of what they want to work on; the workshop format allows for a loose structure.

Donna Patton working on her wine festival still life.

Jane McElvany's fabulous crab feast

 By the time I joined the group on Sunday morning, most of the others were far along on their paintings, and I could see from their work that they were all experienced, talented artists. Some of the still life set-ups were quite elaborate and would take a lot of work to finish. Some artists were already working on a second painting of the several canvases they had brought.

There was only one set-up that had had no takers--a pair of old, weather-beaten work boots on a paint-stained cardboard backdrop sitting in a corner of the last room. Not a very appealing subject, but this was the only one available for me to paint. There was nothing to do but embrace the challenge and try to have fun with it, to love the subject as a mother loves her ugly child.

I was going to sketch directly on my small canvas panel, but Diane instructed me to sketch it on paper first, and, of course, she was right--this saves a lot of wasted effort. I borrowed some sketch paper from another artist, and saw right away that my panel was too small for what I had drawn. But I hadn't brought anything else larger, so I was stuck with either having to drive home to bring another panel, or trying to find a place nearby where I could buy a larger canvas (good luck with that on a Sunday morning!). Providentially, another artist, Betty, offered me one of the extra canvases she had brought along--she had one that was just the right size--but it was toned with a deep brick-red gesso! (I prefer neutral toning like cool or warm gray, Burnt Sienna at most). We negotiated a price.

Putting the first strokes on that dark red background was intimidating. What was there to be afraid of? Nobody here was going to beat me or laugh at me if my painting didn't happen to turn out well. As the day wore on, the bright sun coming through the window behind my canvas didn't exactly help, but I slogged on, enjoying the conversations of my fellow artists.

Diane made her rounds, offering helpful suggestions and comments to each student, sitting down at an easel here and there to demonstrate, or make a correction if the student asked. After lunch break, she asked us to bring our paintings over to the main room for a critique.

Suzanne Arthur 's ironing board painting

The crits were thoughtful as well as constructive--Diane found something noteworthy in each piece and commented on aspects of mood and feeling that would enhance each painting, pointing out problems with composition, or areas that could be confusing or mislead the eye. Every student took away something of value, not just about their own painting, but in viewing the others' work we were training our eyes to see what worked and what didn't, and apply those lessons to our own work as well.

Lewis Anderson's pastel of peppers with pot & vase.

Workshop organizer Barbara Randel had made reservations for dinner for our group at Sal's Italian Bistro in nearby Edinburg on the weekend's two evenings--an opportunity to get to know each other better. Dinner at Sal's on Sunday evening was great fun--we had the place pretty much to ourselves (I can't speak about Saturday night) and that was a good thing--I was afraid we'd drive our waitress nuts, but she took it in stride.

I'd arranged for a day off on Monday so I could continue painting the next day. Monday was cloudy and the lack of direct sun worked for me. On the second day I managed to see more and get down the details of the shapes better.  The longer I looked at those boots, the more Attitude they seemed to have. Something about the way the empty boots stood there suggested the classic contraposto stance, as if the wearer had stood in such a pose habitually for so long, that the boots had frozen in that stance. Now that I could see the attitude, the painting became much more fun. Or was it that had begun to identify and project my own personality into the boots? Whatever it was, I felt myself becoming emboldened by this realization, and confident enough to add bits of cadmium red light straight from the tube into the reflected lights, and leave a few areas of the dark red background showing through in places. Diane reminded me to put in the shadows of the shoelaces for a final touch.

The result is so striking, all I can say is I've never done a painting like this before--I'm really pleased with it. I would never have thought of this on my own. Thank you, Diane, for being such an inspiration! I am really looking forward to the next workshop in the fall.

The Painter's Boots, 20" x 16" oil.