Our Window on Nature

Botanists rely on Latin names for plants to avoid confusion, since the flora they work with contains thousands of species, some of them common to many different lands. But it also strips away most of the romance. Would you be as interested in the appearance of a Houstonia caerulea as you might be about seeing a quaker-lady? Or does the pompous sound of Saponaria officinalis delight your ears as much as its other name, bouncing bet? Probably not.

So after we concede the absolute and concrete necessity of a system of scientific nomenclature, we intend to devote this column to more engaging - and colorful - names for our North American wildflowers.

Some herbs get their names simply to describe a part of the plant. For example, you would expect an umbrella-leaf to have leaves shaped like an umbrella — it does. And you’d expect the leaves of the birdfoot violet to be many lobed — they are. Anyone who has seen a beavertail or a fishook cactus recognizes immediately the source of the name. But so far none of them relates to the flower. (Read the rest …)

It’s the stuff of science fiction flicks - a species multiplying without restraint until it covers the earth. In one version, insects with no natural enemies soon devour all the plant life on the planet. Or the reverse, a plant extends its tendrils around all other living things, slowly smothering them to death.

Luckily, when plants and animals evolve in a particular habitat together, each species has its own control in the form of other plants or animals that keep its growth within bounds - as long as man doesn’t interfere.

But it seems to be the nature of mankind to always want to improve things just a little. Sometimes we do it by accident, but as often it’s a purposeful intrusion. And sometimes the result is havoc. (Read the rest …)

It was rainy today, so we repeated a drive we took about a week ago when searching for some late fall colors. We like gaining enough altitude so the changing shades of different plants are set off by the ever-present green of the pines. Last week the yellows and reds were outstanding.

This week the colors were subdued, more browns than anything else. But in the light rain, all the colors are intensified, and Bracken Fern was the star.

Bracken Fern helps give spring its crisp green look, forming a part of the understory below many types of trees. It grows in colonies, with many fronds emerging from a single underground rhizome.

But with the first frosts, the fern changes from green to yellow with a blush of red, to a golden brown as it takes its first step in merging with the forest floor. Like so many changes in the forest, this one too is temporary.

The Bracken will return with the spring, and we’ll be watching for it. If you’d like to know more about how the fantastic fall colors are created, see our earlier piece on the Changing of the Colors.

We’re addicted to gathering wild foods - especially the wild fruits of summer. Not only do they taste better than foods purchased from the supermarket, but it’s more fun when you find your own.

In June we search out wild strawberries - small but sweet. In July we stock up on raspberry jam, while August means blackberries or blueberries depending upon where we happen to be. That’s not all - September is the time to replenish our supply of grape jelly, while October means apples picked free from long-abandoned orchards. (Read the rest …)