Just a Dusting

After all those clear, warm days (even to 60s on Thursday; 15s C), clouds and white-out conditions rolled in Saturday afternoon. Left us with only a few inches/cm, though. Sunday (1/8) arrived bright and clear, but white and cold.


This is the first "view" north of the new year, and an appropriate one. With two nice snowfalls in December, our White Christmas was assured, as well as some relief for the trees and shrubs that depend on winter moisture. Sad to see other parts of the country are still waiting. Need snow? Check out winter in the Lanark Highlands, courtesy Kerrdelune. Her photo today is even more lovely.

If your wintry days need brightening with blossoms, visit the December Berry-Go-Round, hosted by the Roaming Naturalist.

The Coming Post

Yes, there will be another post. As of this morning, it looks to be coming soon. My absence here has not been a dearth of things to write about, not even a spidearth. Perhaps we can attribute it rather to an EXCESS of things to write about. Much to say, little time to say it. Or, as another blogger tells me "time, discipline, and motivation." Or we could blame it on the tablet, and free downloadable books. (I have 14 draft posts sitting out there in limbo, and 6 of them were created this year. Good grief!)

Tsk, tsk... an entire month without a post! There goes my 2011 record. I've failed to announce the latest Berry-Go-Round, and even the one before that! September's edition of the plant carnival was posted at A DC Birding Blog (yes, plants and birds are related), and August's was nicely handled by Dave at Osage Orange.

Osage Orange tells me October 6 was Poetry Day. Well, missed it by a couple. By way of explanation, the coming post is part Irish blessing, part catalog of the summer's experiences and encounters, a quick review of all the things I'll probably never get around to blogging about. But wish I would...

Today, this morning, frost is creeping up on us, and there's this weird white stuff in the air. We're perched on our usual line between places that only get wet and places that get actual accumulations. No wonder I'm blogging; I always seem to be motivated by that weird white stuff. Because of the weather, I'm finding myself in a reflective mood, perhaps almost a depressive one. It's not a cheery day out there or in here, but after many many many perfect bright-blue 80-degree Colorado days, we're due for a change.

Back soon! Promise!

Summer Berry-Go-Round is here

July's plant carnival, Number 42 in the Berry-Go-Round collection, is elegantly hosted at Beyond the Brambles. Kate leads a merry and colorful romp through the plant kingdom, and the rainbow! Check it out for some great plant-related reading!

I've been scarce here all summer, but I keep hoping things are going to change... soon! Despite a long string of 90-plus degree days, we've had enough rain, now and then, to keep the hills green, even into August, reminding us of what Colorado used to be like... back in the last millenium. And with it, of course, a memorable show of thunder and lightning!

Hope your summer is memorable as well...

Expect More from Berry-Go-Round!

In the hands of "Mr. Subjunctive," the Berry-Go-Round plant carnival takes on a whole new flavor. Several in fact, as he presents BGR #41 as an 8-course tour de force, henceforth to be known as "The Formal Dinner BGR."

What an excellent menu he's prepared!! From soup to nuts, and beyond, Mr. S introduces us to a whole cast of dinner guests, many of whom are sharing the BGR feast for the first time. That means I got to learn a lot of new things and be introduced to a variety of cuisines I might not have encountered otherwise.

Wait'll you see what's for dessert!

Great job, Mr. Subjunctive! Thanks for hosting...

[Could someone please pass the bicarb...?? I may have overdone it.]

BGR--At Home in Alaska

The latest edition (#40) of the Berry-Go-Round plant carnival is making itself quite at home in Sitka, Alaska, thanks to Matt's creative editing! He managed to tie each and every post, including FF's previous post on gillyflowers, to a Sitka relative. Pretty cool, Matt—and nice work all around!

Lots of great botanical reading is provided: from ferns to coralroots, caryophs to coffee, with a little peat and pussytoes for good measure! Go check it out... if you like what you read, please don't forget to leave encouraging comments. Next edition will be hosted at Plants are the Strangest People.

April Showers Bring... a New Berry!

Earth Day and Arbor Day are both more than a week past, and May Day is well underway as this late-breaking edition of the Berry-Go-Round plant carnival hits the streets. It's time to find out what those April showers have brought us. Some entries below came straight to me, others I tracked down in the wilds of the web, looking for signs of spring and plant life. Enjoy these offerings!

It's All About Trees

First up, grab a shovel and join Jade at Brain Ripples , who brings an early entry of 15 Celebrations in Spruce and Birch to kick off our thoughts about trees with reasons to celebrate and, of course, plant trees! Link-rich, this post is a carnival in itself, and well worth a visit.

Over at the Digital Botanic Garden, we find delicious walnuts, along with a little reminiscence about the walnut-shell boats of childhood. In the spring theme, Phil also brings us a favorite showy flowering shrub. Nice for me, as we don’t get to see these much around here. Back in March, Phil also explained the language of love, floral edition, by outlining how two fictional romances might have—or have not—taken place. A must read! (bookmark it for Valentine's Day)

Step-by-step spring from Sarah at Musings from Dave whose written musings... on the gradual onset of the green season are as charming as her photographic accompaniment. Second installment here. And earlier fabulous time-lapse close-ups all help us see spring as it happens!

Tai at Earth, Wind & Water explores the virtues of Red Filbert, a new one to me, but most attractive!

Please welcome Georgia’s first submission to BGR from Local Ecologist, as she combines history and ecology to chronicle changes in the urban tree canopy on Broadway north of Columbus Circle between 1901 and 1912. What happens to trees when New York City builds a subway? Great sleuthing, Georgia—we hope to hear from you again.

Ted at Beetles in the Bush brought us the spectacular ceibo, also known as cockspur coral tree. It's the national flower of both Argentina and Uruguay, so we appreciate the lengths he went to for these gorgeous photos!

As we are speaking of trees, The Nature Conservancy undertakes to Plant a Billion, in its efforts to restore the Atlantic Forest of Brazil, the lungs of the planet—and much more. Meet a few tropical trees, watch their seedlings grow on the home page at this site, and see if you can help this critical project.

Lest we forget that much of our planet is treeless, FF's companion blog, Small Wonders, provides an opportunity to rethink Arbor Day in favor of prairies where appropriate, along with a review of this holiday's history.

On to Spring's Wildflowers

Puca at Anybody Seen My Focus? invites us to join a hike on the Bradley Mountain Trail in the Davidson-Arabia Mountain Nature Preserve in DeKalb County, Georgia. Parts two and three of the hike follow, with fascinating terrain and natural "dish gardens" (a new phrase to me) that hold two outstanding wildflowers: the Elf Orpine (Diamorpha smallii) and the Oneflower Stitchwort (Minuartia uniflora).

Comment1 at Real Monstrosities offers an inventive look at pitcher plants from someone who “decided to rekindle my love of creepy crawlies and years of avidly watching David Attenborough documentaries and create this, Real Monstrosities. Life at it's most bizarre. A collection of creatures strange in body or habit.” Thanks for joining us this month!

At Hill-stead's Nature Blog, Diane tells us how to feed the hungry, especially birds, butterflies, and other picky eaters who depend on native plants for sustenance! This story of winter's deprivation offers a thoughtful look at an important side effect of the spread of invasive exotics and a valuable reminder of another good reason to go native in your landscape.

Mary, the Accidental Botanist, takes us on a visit to her local library, the internet and shows how we as individuals can contribute. It’s a reference collection where any and all of us can make a difference!

Jeremy and Luigi at Agricultural Biodiversity bring us a coconut imposter and cautionary tales about germplasm documentation. Jeremy adds "the comments add a lot to the discussion... [comments are] one of the best things about having a blog, and one reason to submit to BGR is to encourage new readers and potentially useful new comments." So, don't forget to comment—it's important!

Dave at Osage Orange dropped by with another reminder in the year of the Juniper, this time an essay on proper pruning and other spring garden chores.

Some "wildflowers" can fool us, and beauty is always in the eye of the beholder! Kate at Beyond the Brambles discovered a way to turn the tables (and fork) on those who outgrow their hospitality. She found the invasive Japanese knotweed to be Tangy, Fibrous, and Slightly Sweet. Who knew? We should be eating more of these! Kate just discovered BGR and plans to host in July—welcome aboard!

A few more gleanings...

Ellen, the Adirondack Naturalist, has been transplanted to Michigan, where she found a seasonally appropriate story of resurrection to post.

The Phytophactor has produced no less than 65 posts since the last BGR, and, it being spring, at least half of them are about plants. You'll find lots more there, but I simply have to point out one little ditty he calls Plant Porn. Must-see video! Sex and archegonia bring to life what we read about in college botany but never got to see happening!

At Botany Photo of the Day, I picked out skunk cabbage among this spring's offerings. You'll find much more to explore there as well.

Nina at Nature Remains goes Searching for Spring, as she brings us a tiny harbinger, Draba verna (favorite research subject of my friend Julie). On a spring wildflower trip with the Midwest Native Plant Society, the rare Draba brachycarpa also puts in a welcome appearance. If you're still hungry for spring wildflowers, Nina will help, with little men of the spring woods, a delightful frolic, and time with trout lilies.

Tell them Berry-Go-Round sent you

Lots to keep you busy! Thanks for stopping by! Please enjoy these authors and give them feedback. We hope you'll spread the word about Berry-Go-Round by linking back if your post was included, or even if you just enjoyed this edition. Next month's adventures in botany will be hosted by Matt at Sitka Nature.

Even in March Berries Go Round

Ah me, I failed (til recent reminders) to let you know about the current edition of Berry-Go-Round, number 38, which is now up at Anybody Seen My Focus?. Puca, a first-time host, has done a smashing job of rounding up the latest and greatest plant posts, and even included FF's recent contribution on big bluestem, below.

Hustle on over and check out lettuce-growing tips, SPAM (not the bad kind), spring flowers, and much more. Do drop a comment or two on posts you enjoy; it helps keep our participants motivated!

Then, when you're ready, be the first to try out the new BGR submission form to deliver your post on plants, botany, green news, etc. directly to my doorstep, where the next edition will be hosted at the end of April. Or, if you're not excited about such technovation, email me your link directly at FFnaturalist AT gMAIL you-know com. Okay?? Deadline is April 25th, please...

Preliminary indications are that the April edition will have a bit of a tree focus (Arbor Day and all), but plant posts of all types are welcome. Lines are open...

Big Blue: A Grass for the Times?

Last fall I had an email from a botanist friend: What’s going on with big bluestem? After he pointed it out, I noticed that, sure enough, this species, one of the dominant grasses in the tallgrass prairie (as in the source of the original Kansas sods that once housed the homesteaders), was bustin’ out all over the foothills!

Above: Fall color in "turkeyfoot," Big Bluestem grass (Andropogon gerardii), looking across Section 16 and Boulder's Jewell Mountain Open Space. (You can even see the turkey feet in this photo!)

Normally, Big Bluestem does occur on the slopes of our mountain front in sporadic patches, but has been expanding in recent years. In 2010, this warm-season grass had an extraordinary year. Its abundance first drew attention at Lookout Mountain, on the slopes of Windy Saddle Park and adjacent areas, where patches of last fall's russet color could still be spotted in January, even from a distance, as long as the ground was free of snow. Big bluestem and its cousins in the grass family provide great winter color in the landscape.

[This post is a revised version of an article that appeared in the March edition of the Plan Jeffco newsletter, and is therefore oriented toward local open space parks.]

Tallgrass prairie, whether here or in the East, is a tattered remnant of what it was in its glory days. We’re lucky to have sizable patches in Jefferson County; efforts to protect some have been underway for more than 20 years. It’s been years since we talked tallgrass prairie here at FF, but we have continued to monitor developments in the Rocky Flats area, where our best examples of this rare ecosystem survive, including the Ranson/ Edwards property and Jewell Mountain, where Boulder conveniently protected several hundred acres. Patches of big bluestem on the foothills slopes are fine, but limited, reminders of the more extensive remnant prairie that once rolled out across the county but now have retreated to a fringe along the mountain front. Most of what you see west of Highway 93 and north of Hwy 72 is tallgrass prairie.

Big Bluestem (grass)
Andropogon gerardii

• Warm-season sod-forming grass.
  
• Height: 4-5 feet in Colorado; to 8 ft in prairie states.
  
• Range: All but the five westernmost of the lower 48 states, as well as the central provinces of Canada.
  
• Dominant and characteristic grass of the tallgrass prairie ecosystem.
  
• Flowering heads are 4-5 inches long, with 3 (sometimes more) spreading branches, suggesting its other common name: turkeyfoot
  
• Links: At USDA Plants database; at Illinois Wildflowers.
  

Don't Confuse Big Bluestem with:
Smooth Brome (Bromus inermis; Bromopsis inermis) is a ubiquitous pasture grass that was introduced in the late 1800s for livestock forage and erosion control. A sod-former, it tends to grow in extensive monocultures, unlike the patch effect of bluestem, although it is a similarly robust grass that turns color in the fall (more brownish than reddish, however). Smooth brome has leaves on the stem, not just at the base, and lacks the characteristic "turkey foot" seedhead. It is invasive in prairies, and some states consider it a weed. According to the USDA, Smooth Brome now occurs in every state except Hawaii, Alabama, and Florida.

Big Bluestem in Jeffco’s Landscape
Look for these foothills patches primarily on unforested south- and east-facing slopes: on Mt. Morrison, most central-county slopes visible west of Highway 93, and on the north slopes of our canyons, from Bear Creek to Golden Gate. In Mt. Galbraith Park, you can see the colorful auburn patches across the canyon opposite as you make your way up the trail. Driving west on I-70, look for it to the north as you enter the foothills, on the slopes in Matthews-Winters Park.

In the southwest part of Red Rocks Park, bluestem occurs on more prairie-like level sites, because that area has been long protected and contains isolated spots where the Rocky Flats alluvium persists on lands that would otherwise have been cultivated or developed. In fall, Big Bluestem blends perfectly with the outcrops of the Fountain Formation that define Red Rocks.

Lack of development, and a somewhat inhospitable climate, have also protected the Rocky Flats area. The extremely cobbly soils, beloved of gravel companies, hampered agricultural attempts on much of the area, and enhanced the available moisture content for the growth of these taller species. These soils are considered among the oldest in Colorado, in part because the area is unplowed, with some estimates placing their age at 2 million years. But Big Bluestem’s visibility in the landscape of any given year reflects how we’re doing on overall precipitation and temperature.

The Water Year and Other Influences
Based on the 30-yr average precipitation, our wettest month of the year should be May. When it is, that’s about perfect for big bluestem and other warm-season grasses (including blue grama, sideoats grama, little bluestem, and switchgrass), which are just getting started as the weather warms toward summer. By June, the cool-season grasses (such as the common lawn grasses, including Kentucky bluegrass, which take advantage of early season moisture to start growth) will be ready to flower and set seed, but you’ll still have to hunt around on the ground to find evidence that big bluestem is even alive. Large clumps of hairy, velvety blue-green leaves will be your hint.

In July, those spreading clumps send up tall flowering shoots, which produce the “turkey-foot” seedheads by August. When cool-season grasses are giving it up and their seed has scattered, Big Bluestem ripens into the terra cotta masses that reveal its presence even from a distance.

This seasonal habit represents an entirely different metabolism (called “C4”) in these warm-season plants, which use carbon along different pathways than many familiar plants. According to some researchers, this may give them an advantage under conditions of elevated carbon dioxide (think global climate change), especially during drought.

Interestingly, although it seemed, until February snows, that it’s been droughty for several months, 2010 was a good moisture year during its first half, giving Big Bluestem the start it needed. In fact, rainfall in this part of the county has been at or above normal every month from April 2009 through last June. (Later records have not yet been posted online; I’d guess July stayed high as well.) Average temperatures have also hovered a degree or two above normal since late in 2008. Both conditions have supported growth of Big Bluestem, a species that prefers it a little more moist and warm than is the rule in Colorado. If we go too dry and warm, we’re apt to see more of its cousin, little bluestem, but as long as it finds a moist spot, Big Bluestem will remain a part of the county’s natural prospect.

——
Further Reading
Many more references—bison grazing effects, mycorhizal associations, fire, etc.—can be found via Google Scholar; here are a few to get you started. If you've been following our Indian Gulch fire, some of the articles on fire may be of interest; parts of Mt. Galbraith Park, mentioned above, burned. Note that most articles are in Jstor, and only abstracts are available to those of us without university connections.

Biomass production and species composition change in a tallgrass prairie ecosystem after long-term exposure to elevated atmospheric CO2
Clenton E. Owensby, Jay. M. Ham, Alan. K. Knapp, Lisa. M. Auen, 2001, Wiley Online Library.

Photosynthetic and water relations responses to elevated CO 2 in the C 4 grass Andropogon gerardii
AK Knapp, EP Hamerlynck, CE Owensby, International Journal of Plant Sciences, V 154,#4, pp 459-466, 1993.

In absence of water stress, such systems don’t respond to elevated C, but in water-limited envts, levels of leaf phi, leaf-level ps rates, and stomatal conductance are all likely to be affected by elevated atmos CO2, with the net result being inc in biomass productn.

Growth and Gas Exchange of Andropogon gerardii as Influenced by Burning
Tony J. Svejcar and James A. Browning, Journal of Range Management, Vol. 41, No. 3 (May, 1988), pp. 239-244

Long-Term Effects of Annual Burning at Different Dates in Ungrazed Kansas Tallgrass Prairie
Gene Towne and Clenton Owensby, Journal of Range Management, Vol. 37, No. 5 (Sep., 1984), pp. 392-397

Bright Spots in Winter: BGR #37

If winter's lingering a little too long where you are, you can always turn to the Berry-Go-Round for a touch of life and color. The Phytophactor has corraled a red-carpet-runway-free batch of plant posts for this month's carnival.

Contemplate invasive (?) orchids (we should have such weeds) or bryophytes-du-jour (such as this loverly liverwort), explore tasty wild edibles (with care!), tropical vines, or Great Basin conifers. You can even try your hand at making soup—but brush up on your Latin first to get the ingredients right...

And of course, FF's own lichen post below is featured too.

Thanks, Phactor!

January Berries

The latest edition of the Berry-Go-Round plant carnival is now posted at Seeds Aside.

This month's eclectic collection offers a look at a dozen record-holding plants, news about Sphagnum genetics, book reviews, the evolution of C4 photosynthesis, and the stunningly unique Fern Rap. Or how about the oldest evidence of plants found to date in Florida? All of these tasty tidbits, and many more, can engage your brain cells if you wander over to edition #36 of the Berry-Go-Round.

Nice job, Laurent! Thanks for the great reading...

"Botanical" Wonders

Two events conspired to renew my level of botanical engagement this month. The second was Mary, the Accidental Botanist, who posted a piece about ThePlantList.org, a great resource for people (Mary aptly calls "plant nerds") who want to figure out more about a plant.

But the original reason I needed to re-engage was work-related: a project that gave me an excuse to learn more about the rare plants at Summit Lake Park, the alpine contribution to Denver's Mountain Park System. I need to know what these plants look like, and I won't be making any trips to Mt. Evans or Summit Lake in January (see photo). Could the new PlantList site help me?

In two clicks, on my first attempt*, I found myself looking at an image of herbarium specimen #K000697587 of Draba exunguiculata at, incredibly, the Kew Herbarium! It was collected near Gray's Peak in 1885!

*Okay, not quite that easy. Plantlist has a typo; I had to add an "n" to the species epithet to make it work.

Quite a few of the rare plants at Summit Lake are mosses and liverworts (bryophytes). In another two clicks, this time over to the New York Botanical Garden, I was studying a map of locations of specimens of the rare moss, Oreas martiana. Although 16 of the 39 specimens at NYBG are from Colorado, the map showed only six locations on the North Slope of Alaska, one in northern British Columbia, and two in Greenland. Ahh, there's the wrinkle: The specimens have to be "georeferenced," that is with coordinates recorded, in order to be plotted, and many, it seems, are not.

The Plant List, sad to say, deals only with vascular plants and bryophytes. You'd think 298,900 valid names (and more than a million total) would be enough to satisfy anyone, no?

As I said in a previous post about Summit Lake:

I’m a bit daft about cryptogams, and it seemed everywhere we tried to put a flag, the “bare” ground was thick with lichens and mosses. Tundra lichens are a special breed—most are species that dominate arctic ecosystems and aren’t seen down here in the lower 48 states, except at very high altitudes. So they’re special, at least to me.

What about my favorite arctic tundra lichens that also occur at Summit Lake? No help from the PlantList there, but I was hooked on the concept. Lichen images are rarely a problem; Steve and Sylvia Sharnoff have helped us out with their definitive book and website at Lichen.com. (And Steve's more extensive photo gallery, a wonderful place to explore on a snowy winter's day.)

A quick visit over to the American Bryological and Lichenological Society (ABLS) website reminded me I should drop in on the lichen herbarium at Arizona State University, where Dr. Thomas Nash has amassed more than 109,000 lichen specimens. Searchable... Now that sounds promising!

Instead of searching only the ASU collection, though, I found myself presented with this opportunity to search lichen herbaria across the US and Canada! Enter a taxon, and/or maybe some criteria, and pow! you've got label data from any of the 15 institutions in the Consortium of North American Lichen Herbaria.

A few more clicks, and you'll have a map of all the georeferenced specimens in the database, or maybe a list of all the lichen specimens collected within a given distance of whatever coordinates you care to enter. If you ask for all the occurrences of the arctic lichens Dactylina madreporiformis (aka Allocetraria madreporiformis) and Thamnolia vermicularis, you get 515 specimens in ten (counting subspecies) taxa, that look, on the map, like this. The Dactylina is red; Thamnolia blue.

The armchair explorer can click each little map bubble to view a specimen label for that site. If multiple specimens occur there, a list of them pops up, and you can pick which label you want to see.


If you have a microscope handy, you can even try using a Dynamic Key to the lichens of an area, as in this one for the 348 lichen species within 40 miles of Summit Lake. The key will walk you through the characters, eliminating species at every choice (pick a feature you know, if possible, or can make an educated guess at), until you arrive at your answer. Unfortunately, the first big steps in elimination require you to know quite a bit about the lichen's innards, like spore features and what the photobiont (algal partner) is. If you happen to know it's cyanobacterioid, you're in luck; you'll only have to work through 36 species. Alas, about 90% of lichens involve green algae, often Trebouxia, as the primary photobiont.

Easy way to lose a week or two (as I did)... If Dr. Weber's lichen collection* at the CU Boulder Herbarium (COLO) was in the database, I'd be in real trouble!

You say you're not particularly fond of lichens? We'll have to address that in a future post...
——
* Specimen data aren't online, but you can explore his Catalog of Colorado Lichens.

For Berry-Go-Round #36... "Botanical" is in quotes because lichens aren't really considered to be plants by most people. These days they're organized as "lichenized fungi." But BGR says it's okay "as long as a reminder clearly indicates fungi and algae are not considered plants anymore." This is my reminder.

The Holly and the Ivy

Christmas, and the whole winter season in general, is brightened by a host of plants we traditionally associate with this time when we are, in the Northern Hemisphere temperate zone, largely plant-deprived. Lately it seems The Tree and the ubiquitous modern Poinsettia get most of the glory, but in times past many other plant species lent color and meaning to our festivities. As this song has been trickling through my head all week, I thought I'd explore a few of its historic associations, and give you a reason to keep your holiday greens up a little longer.

In days of yore, when certain Europeans placed great emphasis on the symbolism associated with plants and animals, the year was divided into two parts: the waxing year, into which we pass on the Winter Solstice, is ruled by the Oak King; the waning half is ruled by the Holly King. (Photo from Wikimedia commons.)

As the song (circa 1710) says:

The Holly and the Ivy, now are both well grown;
Of all the trees that are in the wood, the Holly bears the crown.

The Holly (always symbolically male, though botanically coming in both flavors) is "best in the fight;" he wins the crown at Summer Solstice but rules only until displaced by Oak on December 21st. (The "boughs of holly" tradition predates our image of Victorian Christmases; the Romans used holly in similar fashion a millenium earlier for celebrations of Saturnalia, associated with December 17th.)

The Ivy is traditionally female, and her place in symbolism sheds a more sinister light on the festivities:

Holly stands in the hall, fair to behold:
Ivy stands without the door, she is full sore a cold.
Holly and his merry men, they dance and they sing,
Ivy and her maidens, they weep and they wring.

Ivy hath chapped fingers, she caught them from the cold,
So might they all have, aye, that with ivy hold.
Nay, ivy, nay, it shall not be I wis;
Let holly have the mastery, as the manner is.

This sad story actually makes logical sense, in that Holly has been brought inside to decorate the mantel, while Ivy, being attached to the outer walls of our hypothetical English country house, must spend the winter outside.

Holly and Ivy Here and Now
Neither of these excellent plants of the British Isles escapes sinister implications on this side of the pond. English Ivy (Hedera helix) and English Holly (Ilex aquifolium) both can, and have, become invasive here in North America. Here one of the benefits of Colorado's harsh and droughty climate presents itself; neither species, thankfully, has escaped from cultivation in our fair state. Elsewhere it's not so comfortable: English Ivy is a designated noxious weed in Oregon and Washington, whose forests, coincidentally, provide most of our domestic holiday greens. (See another essay on the holiday harvest over at Small Wonders. Apparently I've long been interested in this topic.)

H. helix can grow to choke out other plants and create "ivy deserts" in the United States. State and county sponsored efforts are encouraging the destruction of ivy in forests of the Pacific Northwest and the Southern United States. Its sale or import is banned in Oregon. Ivy can easily escape from cultivated gardens and invade nearby parks, forests and other natural areas. Ivy can climb into the canopy of trees in such density that the trees fall over from the weight, a problem which does not normally occur in its native range. In its mature form, dense ivy can destroy habitat for native wildlife and creates large sections of solid ivy where no other plants can develop. —from Wikipedia.org.

English Holly is also plantae non grata in the Pacific Northwest, despite its commercial production there, which may well have been a source for the invasion. It is considered naturalized in many forests in our western tier of states, where it occurs in the westernmost counties, but hasn't spread in the eastern U.S. forests as ivy has, according to the USDA distribution records. It has not, so far, been listed as a noxious weed, though it is projected to change the composition of the Pacific Northwest forests in the decades ahead.

Household Decor—and More
It's not just about decking the halls to bring inside a little spirit of the forest at Christmas; in older days, the practice of using plants indoors was year-round, each with its season. This tradition supported not just comely decorations, but practical applications of sanitation and, no doubt, sanity in times when people were not in the habit of bathing regularly and often lived with their animals. In this critical role, plant use was known as strewing, and involved a wide variety of herbs and other species, as partially outlined below.

Candlemas Eve, by Robert Herrick, published 1648
(found online at The Hymns and Carols of Christmas)

Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the mistletow;
Instead of holly now upraise
The greener box for show.

The holly hitherto did sway,
Let box now domineer,
Until the dancing Easter day,
Or Easter's Eve appear.

Then youthful box which now hath grace
Your houses to renew,
Grown old, surrender must his place
Unto the crisped yew.

When yew is out, then birch comes in,
And many flowers beside,
Both of a fresh and fragrant kin,
To honour Whitsuntide.*

Green rushes then, and sweetest bents,
With cooler oaken boughs,
Come in for comly ornaments,
To readorn the house.

Thus times do shift;
Each thing his turn doth hold;
New things succeed,
As former things grow old.

* "Whitsuntide" is the Christian celebration of the seventh Sunday after Easter. This puts it more or less coincident (given Easter's variable date) with and apparently a replacement for the pagan celebration of May Eve/May Day, aka Beltane.

Obligatory botanical note: I'm going to go out on a limb (or bough) here, and try to put names to these plants, for those of us not conversant with the more common decorative and strewing herbs.

"The Greener Box": Buxus sempervirens, in the unappetizing Euphorbiaceae, is an easy one, and grows in Europe, the Orient, and temperate Asia. Given its toxic nature, unlike the rest, we'd perhaps count on this green primarily for decoration.

"The Crisped Yew": Taxus baccata occurs in north temperate Europe and Asia; in North America, substitute Pacific Yew (Taxus brevifolia).

"Birch" would most likely be Betula alba , which grows in Europe, No. Asia, and No. America, or in No. America, perhaps also Sweet Birch, B. lenta.

For "green rushes," we could use Sweet flag, Acorus calamus, a plant of north temperate regions, as is the Bulrush, Scirpus lacustris, both widely used for strewing.

"Bent": Agrostis stolonifera, perhaps, or others of the more than one hundred species of this grass. Pasture grasses and sometimes weeds, these would have been part of the straw commonly used as floor covering.

Perhaps not surprising is the fact that all of these mentioned have one other thing in common, in addition to this use. These species all come with an "L." after their names, signifying the Linnaean origin of their binomials.


Few of us have backyards that could sustain a year-round harvest of greens for strewing and freshening our houses; most likely, we also lack the time to harvest and redecorate seasonally. As the practice has faded, it seems our winter holiday decorations are the only remnant of a once wider traditional practice of bonding with plants. (At left: Burning The Christmas Greens, from Harper's Weekly, 1876.)

On this day [Candlemas] the Christmas ceremonies, which had lingered on after Twelfth-day, finally closed, and all traces of them were removed. The custom long prevailed, and there must be many still living who can remember the evergreens with which our churches were decorated at Christmas, remaining until Candlemas [February 2nd]. from William Henry Husk, Songs of the Nativity (1868)

Do we have, today, less need in our homes of the freshening effects of greens (not to mention the antimicrobial properties that were probably also a benefit)—or are we just now more inclined (or able) to get those benefits from a commercial product than from our backyards?

More on Plants: BGR #34

You may be wondering why, all of a sudden, plant posts finally started reappearing here at Foothills Fancies. It's a puzzle best solved by noting that the latest Berry-Go-Round plant carnival is now posted over at Watching the World Wake Up.
After months of dereliction, we are trying to recoup our reputation as a plant blog by submitting these last couple posts on plants and their activities.

Pity the green ash, a sample here of the indignities discussed below in Plants Die. We've all observed that, in any encounter with power lines, the tree loses. It might be fun to make a series of these, something like RPL's ecology of shopping carts. What do you think?

As usual, the Watcher has rounded up a nice collection of plant goodies, taking us from cotton T-shirts to favorite malts and brews by way of tropical paradises and temperate berries. Drop in and check out some great plant blogging!

Adventures in Geo-Browsing

You never know where the current edition of Berry-Go-Round (now hosted by Laurent at Seeds Aside) will take you!

After browsing several of the fascinating offerings, my love of lichens took me to Botany for Geologists where David at History of Geology does a great job of explaining lichenometry, or the use of lichens to date exposed rock surfaces.

In his sidebar, I discovered Eat.Sleep.Geology., by a neogeoblogger whose nom de plume is GeoGirl. She soon led me to the geologists' blog carnival over at The Accretionary Wedge, which provided great ideas for future Berries as well as a long list of future reading.

Geology class at a local outcrop.

David also tipped me off to Riparian Rap, whose series on geomorphically incorrect art is mind-bending entertainment.

As always in the blog world, you can make your way around the planet and back again in a few clicks, and learn a lot about how it's put together in the process.

Latest in Berries

The current Berry-Go-Round plant carnival is now posted at Greg Laden's blog. Thanks, Greg, for a great job assembling some very intriguing plant posts—I look forward to applying more of a K-strategy to them soon! We appreciate your squeezing in the post below, on our long-awaited wisteria blossoms.

Collection of Carnivals; Bird Update

It's a feast indeed for fans of natural history out there this month. As the world wakes, so does the nature blogosphere.

The notable 50th edition of Circus of the Spineless is recently up at Arthropoda, and Mike does a great job. His site is new to me, I found myself exploring more thoroughly, and learned a lot! Check out his "Favorite Posts" tab for starters.

The Geek in Question (TGIQ) from Fall To Climb is hosting two of the newer blog carnivals this month. TGIQ tackles herpetology with House of Herps #5: Slime Poetry, an excellent edition as critters emerge for spring. I had to go there to see scales; we've yet to encounter any here (though others have in town).

Next, head over to An Inordinate Fondness, to experience The Shining and learn why TGIQ is so taken with beetlemania.

Nature's Whispers is host for this month's Festival of Trees (#47). Jasmine brings on a multimedia Beltane extravaganza, with art, poetry, video, and much more. Do scroll down to celebrate May Day with the feature film: dancing the Maypole in Glastonbury (and what better place!)...

And that brings us to the 27th edition of Berry Go Round, by Mary over at Neotropical Savanna; a great spot to get your fix of spring wildflowers, like Trilliums, also emerging from hibernation. BGR is itself springing to new life, after a great email discussion, and will carry on with Mary and Sarcozona (of Gravity's Rainbow) as ringleaders.

And Now, Closer to Home

Today: We're ignoring, for the most part, the half-inch of snow this morning. It is May 7th, after all. (I did take the teakettle out to defrost the openings on the hummingbird feeder.) Darling Husband yelled "Come quick!" to make sure I got to see the first Bullock's Oriole of the season. He spotted a pair in the ash tree; I saw only the male.

Yesterday: A drab brown bird puzzled me yesterday, hiding behind the trunk as soon as I brought out the binocs. No distinguishing features whatsoever. Page by page through the bird book this a.m. suggests she could only be a Brown-headed Cowbird (my first!). No wonder she didn't want to be spotted!

The first Western Kingbird of the season perched on the far fence yesterday. DH also reports a male Lesser Goldfinch in seasonal plumage a few days ago.

Last week: The Mourning Doves are back, of course, and billing and cooing like lovebirds. But last week, something different: a lone Ring-necked (aka Collared) Dove. I thought it was an escapee; Bee Lady says they're increasing in our area.

Oh–and Grackles. Since when do we have grackles? They're learning to use the sunflower feeder.

The hummingbirds have been around for weeks, disappearing when it snows, and reappearing. I had three fighting over the feeders a couple weeks ago, until it snowed. Now I see the little hummers occasionally, but not in numbers. Soon, though, they'll be here in force.

More spring to be reported here soon!

A Taste of Spring at BGR#26

We're sampling spring-like weather here this week, at long last. Our third storm, threatened by forecasters last Friday night, never materialized in white form, but remnants of the second are still lying about.

But for a real taste of spring, drop in on Berry-Go-Round #26, where Sarcozona at Gravity's Rainbow has rounded up an incredible collection of botanical marvels, from pawpaws to algal balls, moss to magnolia.

Here at home, the maples are blooming, and I ought to go looking for wildflowers. Indoors, the sweet smell of waxplant (Hoya carnosa) in bloom wafted through the house last night in a vain attempt to attract some insect. Only two intricate inflorescences, but a very nice preview of things to come outdoors. The season of flowering and fruiting is coming.

Valentines for Plant Lovers (BGR #25)

Valentine’s Day normally passes without a blip around here, but this year was outstanding! As beautiful heart-shaped boxes arrived in my inbox for Berry-Go-Round this month, I was reminded that botanical carnivals are like a box of chocolates: You never know what you’re going to get, but it’s bound to be delicious! I did a little very tasty research, and I can confidently report that you’ll find plenty of good eatin’, er, reading here for our February edition. It's highly caloric, though—you just might not want to consume the whole thing in one sitting.

Remember: If you enjoy these sites, do leave a comment for the authors, and tell them Berry-Go-Round sent you! Links back to the carnival are also appreciated.

Ted, at Beetles in the Bush, breaks with the Valentine’s Day tradition of red roses and offers us white orchids instead. No complaints here, with his gorgeous photos of the Great Plains Ladies'-tresses orchid (Spiranthes magnicamporum), which he observed on a dolomite glade in the White River Hills of southwestern Missouri last October.

Ted also sent something extra (looks like a chocolate lollipop or tootsie roll to me), which he found at Digital Botanic Garden. This new site is well worth exploring-- I don’t think you’ll be disappointed by any of the gourmet chocolates in this box; Phil’s plant photos are all incredible.

The melt-in-your-mouth flavor of Diane’s contribution from Hill-stead’s blog belies its less-than-tempting smell, which is not what most might prefer in their holiday confections. There’s a good reason her skunk cabbage is a bit on the foetid side. Learn why, and much more, as she welcomes this early sign of spring and encourages us to get out and take a look around too.

Oh dear, a few of our chocolates seem to have gotten a little stale, and here it’s only been two weeks since Valentine’s Day. Despite being 350 million years old, Sarcozona’s contribution on Archeopteris (and Archaeopteryx!) is surprisingly rich and delectable, and includes a wonderful fossil play on words. Look for it at Gravity's Rainbow.

Phytophactor also brings us a treat that’s a bit past its expiration date, a 400-million-year-old enigmatic fossil, Prototaxites. He makes up for it by refreshing us with something fresh and flowery for Ash Wednesday. If chocolate’s not enough to nudge you out of the winter doldrums and you missed his January prescriptions for relief, his recent suggestion to visit a greenhouse may do the trick.

You could always get away from the cold and snow by trotting off to some sunny place, as John did at Kind of Curious, where he blogs about what is out there in our world and how/why we should protect it.





The valentine he sent from Hawaii tells us 11 amazing things about Haleakala silversword. It turns out that not all of Hawaii is warm and sunny, so silversword has a special trick for beating the cold.

Of course, chocolate is a specialty of Mexico, and Jeremy and Luigi at Agricultural Biodiversity share an assortment of new scientific results in the search for agricultural origins in Mexico and Italy and review how genebanks are doing in preserving crop and wild relative diversity. As long as they preserve chocolate, we'll be fine.

You won't find any additives in Emily's valentine. No seeds, no fruits, no flowers, and definitely no problem with her post on old timey fern guidebooks, just decadent dark chocolate. Ummm... and remember, dark chocolate is rich in bioflavonoids, so it's good for you too!

But maybe you'd prefer a little fruit in your chocolate (extra antioxidants, right?), and don't we all recognize those chocolate-covered cherries? As host of this edition, Sally here at Foothills Fancies takes us over to Small Wonders for her essay on getting birds to help in the garden.

It's hard to believe, after all these boxes of chocolates, that I still wasn't satisfied. I just needed to round up something a little nutty, and I found it at Watching the World Wake Up. Who but the Watcher could turn a pie-tasting contest into a botanical lesson?

Through my research, I discovered that purveyors of chocolate talk in lusciously smooth and creamy phrases, with a special vocabulary, as do wine connoisseurs. Can chocolate be a bit resinous as this hackmatack post at Blogs Monroe is? Is “oakey” just in wine, or does it come in chocolates too? If so, Ted offers us a taste of oak at Hawn State Park in Missouri, and Swampy echoes the flavor with quirky Quercus. Swampy also turned up the first dandelion of spring over at Swamp Things.

Want to get depressed so you have a reason to Eat More Chocolates? Check out not so looming Anthropocene extinctions at Conservation Bytes; it'll help you develop a craving!

A Few Final Bites

The pink and red of valentines reminded me of the colour of spring over at Rock Paper Lizard.

Jessica, at Moss Plants and More, shares a great idea with the latest moss gardening book, and gives us a most intriguing tip to visit the mosscam, where you can enjoy mosses in action.

Lindsay's series of posts (February 18-26, with closing statement on March 1) on biodiversity and sports (think Olympics, not botanical) forges more connections between plants and athletics than we might expect. See how at Botany Photo of the Day, from the University of British Columbia Botanical Garden. If you're still in a valentiney mood, check out Daniel's timely post on Rose hybrids while you're there.

Over at Seeds Aside, Laurent tells us that Orthoptera can pollinate too.

Witch’s brooms are featured in the Annotated Flora, a collection of more than 100 columns on native plants by Ken Moore, as published in The Carrboro Citizen, a newspaper from Carrboro, North Carolina.

Wow—with history, heart-health benefits, diversity of forms, and outright deliciousness, chocolate has to be one of the world's favorite plant-based products. By now, you've probably worked up an appetite. I'd be remiss if I didn't send you over to Chocolate and Zucchini, where you can find Clothilde's cake of the same ingredients, and to the Chocolate Gourmand, where Brian will treat you to dark chocolate gelato.

That wraps up our belated summary of this year's valentines. Whew, I think I've gained five pounds! I hope you found something new to enjoy among your old favorites, and that you'll find this assortment of goodies richly rewarding and well worth those extra calories!

Confessions of a Nongardener

Anticipations of spring, for me, don't truly come with anticipations of gardening, alas. I'm a gardener-wanna-be, perhaps too lazy-daisical for the true thrill of gardening. And that's a good thing, because if I was a gardener, after 30 years of living here, I'd be an extremely frustrated individual. Or perhaps I'd have mastered this inhospitable habitat, and would be the most sought-after expert in the field of Xeriscape®* gardening. Fortunately, I am neither.

Laziness, it seems, applies not only to my approach to gardening, but to my blogging! Very soon now, a new edition of Berry-Go-Round will be posted here at Foothills Fancies. Rather than creating a new post for my contribution, I'll be recycling one of my essays that outlines what I think is a very creative approach to gardening. It's posted over on Small Wonders**, where longer stories go. Unless you're completely committed to the hard labor approach, you might want to check it out.

*Xeriscape® is a registered trademark of Denver Water, who coined the phrase in the late 1970s.^a It is, wikipedia tells us, a portmanteau^b made from "xeri" (dry) and "scape" (from landscape).

^aThe URL "xeriscape.org" now goes to "Colorado Waterwise," which wasn't delivering Xeriscape information for me earlier but seems to be fine now.

^bAs defined by Humpty Dumpty, this is when "there are two meanings packed up into one word," which happens a lot in Jabberwocky, the poem he's explaining to Alice.<sup>c

c</sup> My goodness, it's amazing the things you can find on the web!

**When I started Foothills Fancies, my hope was it would keep my writing skills exercised. Small Wonders includes essays I wrote in the mid-1990s (and was paid for, speaking of small wonders!) that represent my only real body of creative work in the world of publishing. The essay linked here for BGR is one of the few that actually got me a response from a reader—she sent me some plum seeds!

Must Be Spring Is Coming!

The hens are laying again (and the skunks are squabbling under the coop), and today I heard a flicker calling for a lost (or hoped for) love. No drumming yet, happily.

Never mind the snow that started about 2:15 this afternoon; spring is on its way. And one sign of spring is that Berry-Go-Round will be back here at Foothills Fancies next week. Please send contributions—yours or someone else's—to me at ffnaturalist. That's on gmail, which is a dot com. Or leave links to plant-related posts here in comments—by Friday February 26th, please.

THANKS!