Fall Equinox and New Plantings

Friday a week ago the weather changed after a front blew in, leaving no doubt that fall is on its way. With cooler temperatures, it's been perfect for work on the garden. Herb and I spent a week digging out and preparing a new bed for the pink bush roses I had ordered from Jackson & Perkins. I chose the site for maximum sun and scenic appeal from the street, but the soil in that patch was the worst I've seen so far: hard as concrete after the recent dry spell, we dug out eight buckets of large rocks before mixing lots of peat moss and composted manure. On a glorious Saturday afternoon I finally planted and mulched the new roses--voila!

New rose bed.

After that was done, I moved on to finish digging out the circle around the base of the red maple tree. I had put in some yellow day-lilies during the summer, but I needed two more plants to fill out the circle. I selected some lovely hybrid varieties on sale from Wayside Gardens--one peach and one pink. The plants arrived bare root this past Thursday, and I planted them the next day. I can't wait to see what they will look like next summer.

I also began to dig holes in the back yard for the saplings I'd gotten from the Arbor Day Foundation last spring. I'd been keeping these in pots all summer so I could water them easily, but now they need to go into the ground. The soil back there, though rocky, was not as compacted and hard as where we put in the rose bed; a couple of evenings were enough for the first two holes--for a dogwood and a redbud tree.

Showers were in the forecast for yesterday afternoon. I went out right after lunch to plant the saplings before the rain. A light drizzle began before I was finished with the first one, but I kept on working--it was not enough rain to get wet. Later in the afternoon and into evening we finally got some real showers--the first good soaking in weeks. This morning, the garden is resplendent with droplets in the sunlight!

My new saplings in the back yard.

The front garden.

Orchid Pencil Sketches and Nature

Purple Fringed Orchid Flower details

Showy Orchis Flower detail

I've been working on refining the details of the orchid flowers for my botanical project, and trying to come up with the color palettes for these. I seem to have approach-avoidance towards the final project at this point.

In the meantime, the roses I had ordered for fall planting arrived, and the past two evenings have been spent digging up a new bed for them. It's such a rocky spot I've hauled away five or six buckets of rocks so far, and still have another 4 feet or so in length to dig. The weather is so lovely at this time of the year that even this back-breaking work is still enjoyable. Just being outside working on my garden is a pleasure. Looking forward to next spring's display keeps me at it.

Admiring the results of last year's plantings, some beautiful combinations like the one below seem noteworthy. The contrast of the magenta flowers of this aster against the yellow-green of the Sedum rupestre 'Angelina' and even yellower dwarf Hinoki cypress is a wonderful study in complementary colors and textures. If I could only be as perfect as nature when I paint!

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.