Archive for the ‘where plants grow wild’ Category
Heal-all (Prunella vulgaris L.)
Heal-all, self-heal, carpenter weed, and, in French, herbe au charpentier are all names for this little weed. Prunella vulgaris L. inhabits waste areas and lawns, becoming small and compact if mowed. The flowers are purple, lobed and lipped and held in a dense head or spike. This is one of many plants belonging to the mint family, easily identified because they have a square stem. The name is of uncertain origin; at one time the plant was called Brunella. Vulgaris means ‘common’.
Drawing this little plant is fun… no matter what you do, the individual flowers resemble small hooded sprites.
Heal-all
Prunella vulgaris L.
~
Prunella vugaris neat little weed
prim and proper gone to seed
~
called Brunella: gatherers found
Prunella purple fades to brown
~
weed, a carpenter busy and strong
mends bare patches on the lawn
~
heal-all, self-heal – your name suggests
herbal secret you possess
~
© Jane Tims 1994
Round-leaved Sundew (Drosera rotundifolia L.)
Carnivorous plants are a bit frightening. They seem more thoughtful than other plants. They are slightly macabre, possessing special adaptations for acquiring their food. They take on shapes not typical of flowering plants. On most days, you can find their prey, in various stages of digestion.
The Round-leaved Sundew, Drosera rotundifolia L., is also called Daily-dew or, in French, Rossolis à feuilles rondes. The Sundew is a carnivorous plant of acid bogs, barrens, moist roadside ditches and peaty soils. The leaves are in a tuft at the base of the plant and each leaf is covered with numerous gland-bearing bristles. These exude a clear fluid that glitters in sunlight, hence the name, from the Greek droseros meaning dewy. The delicate white flowers are borne on a slender, nodding stalk, and only open in the sun.
Round-leaved Sundew
Drosera rotundifolia L.
~
daily, dew is falling
sits on bristled leaves
of the sundew;
in innocence, believe
~
in our ditch is treasure,
glittering jewels, set
out in the sunshine,
a lure for insect fools
~
brilliance and beetles caught
in sticky dew, bristles tight
clutch creatures
they slew
~
tiny flowers cling
to the curve of a nodding stem,
opening when sunlight
shines on them
~
© Jane Tims 1984
(brackets in the birch grove)
Last week we went for a walk (more like a struggle) through the birch grove at the base of the grey woods (see the ‘map of the grey woods’ under ‘about’). To get there, we crossed the fern gully, mostly dry this time of year, and entered a mixed wood of birch, maple, spruce and fir, much younger than the mature spruce in the grey woods.
These trees grow in very wet conditions, and the forest floor is a hummocky, spongy growth of Sphagnum moss and fern.
There is no path through this woodland, so the ‘walk’ was an up-and-down, over-and-under kind of trek. To stay dry, you must take giant steps from hummock to hummock. To stay upright, you must check your footing and hang on to the young trees. With all this concentration on moving forward, I tend to miss some of the interesting detail, so I try to use each ‘balancing moment’ as a time to look around and observe the wild life.
One occupant of the birch grove is the bracket fungus. This is a type of fungus that grows like shelves on both living and dead trees. The fungus forms thick flat pads on the tree, usually parallel to the ground. They remind me of steps, a spiral stair to ascend the tree.
The semi-circular body of the bracket fungus is called a conk. The conks of the bracket fungus growing in our woods are thick, often oddly shaped, and constructed of various cream, tan and brown coloured layers. The conks are the outwardly visible, reproductive part of the fungus. The vegetative portion of the fungus grows as an extensive network of threads within the tree.
bracket fungi
~
1.
in this forest
staid
practical
grey
could any form
construe to magic?
~
fairy rings
moths in spectral flight
spider webs, witches brooms
burrows and subterranean
rooms, hollows in wizened
logs, red toadstools
white-spotted, mottled
frogs
~
2.
bracket fungi
steps ascend
a branchless tree
~
© Jane Tims 2011
autumn black and white
Roaming around the countryside, the weekend before last, deluged by color from orange and yellow trees and crimson fields of blueberry, I was interested by the contrast in the ditches. A month ago, they were a riot of yellow or purple as the goldenrods, tansies and asters presented themselves, species by species. Now, they are done with blooming and are in the business of releasing their seeds.
To attract pollinators for setting their seeds, flowers put on a competitive display of color and form. But dispersing their seeds is a different process altogether. Many depend on the wind to carry their seeds to ideal sites for next year’s bloom and the wind is color-blind. Grey, white and even black are the dominant colors in the ditches.
Seeds dispersed by wind either flutter to the ground, or float in the air. Often, they are assisted by a special seed form. For example, maple keys are flattened and aerodynamic so they spin and travel some distance as they fall. Seeds of goldenrod and aster have feathery white bristles (called the pappus, a modified sepal) to help them float through the air. The term pappus comes from the Latin pappus meaning ‘old man’, an apt description of the white heads of the flowers, gone to seed.
Another species in the ditch, Common Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare L.), also known as Golden-buttons, ordinarily has bright yellow flowers in a flat head. Now, it has joined the black and white revue, showing black seed-heads against feathery leaves.
The seeds of Tansy, in a form called an achene, have no special adaptation for flight. This time of year, these seeds are dry and ready for dispersal by gravity.
autumn black
~
dry leaves
silent
colorless
wonder withdrawn, into the vortex of
no hue, no delight
cones suppressed, rods perceive
absence, black seed in heads of Tansy
absorb all light, feathered foliage
darkest green, approaching black
~
© Jane Tims 2011
not naming any names (along the country road # 7)
What do you do if you are stranded beside a highway and have to wait for a long while? I name the plants I see growing in the ditches.
Part of my fascination with plant taxonomy is the interesting origin of the plant names. This includes both the Latin ‘scientific’ names and the common names. Many scientific names for plants can be traced to their physical characteristics. However, with references to mythology and local lore, and the modern unfamiliarity with Latin and Greek, the origin of many names may seem quite obscure.
For example, the Latin species name for Buttercup is Ranunculus, from the Latin name for ‘little frog’; Pliny gave this name to the plant because it grew where frogs lived. Some plants were named because they resembled parts of common animals; Larkspur has the specific name Delphinium since the flower resembles the shape of a dolphin. Other plants were given names because they reminded botanists of everyday objects – the species name of Meadowsweet is Spirea, from the Greek speira, wreath.
Meadowsweet (Spirea latifolia (Ait.) Borkh.)
Common names may vary with location. One of the reasons for using scientific names is the variety of common names assigned to a single plant by people of different localities. Botanists needed a way to make sure they were talking about the same plant. So Virgin’s Bower, or Devil’s-darning-needle, or Devil’s Hair, or Lovejoy, or Traveller’s Joy, or Love Vine are known by one scientific name, Clematis virginiana L.
Many common names also include references to mythology or religion. Coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara L.), the dandelion-like flower blooming in our ditches almost before the snow has disappeared, is also called Son-before-the-Father, which refers to the appearance of flowers before the leaves.
Since New Brunswick is a bilingual province, I like to know the French common names for plants as well as the English. Some examples of French names for common flowers include pas-d’âne (literally donkey-steps) for Coltsfoot, immortelle (meaning immortal) for Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea (L.) C.B. Clarke), and herbe aux gueux (meaning beggar or tramp) for Virgin’s bower.
So, what is this plant, discovered beside a stretch of highway while we waited for our friends to arrive?
what is my name?
~
common name unknown
~
1.
stranded beside the highway
entirely industrial
chain-link fence, ditches sandy dry
we passed the time
naming the familiar
giving names to unknown
road-side
vegetation
~
2.
three-leaflets
definitely clover
but what species
what common names might suit
a crowded cloud
of soft and purple
flower?
~
3.
we tried ‘common’
clover cloud
clover crowd
muffin-mound
rabbit’s whiskers
pussy-toes
pillow-fill
billow hill
lavender clover
Purple Pleiades Pleione
please!
~
3.
we tried Latin
Trifolium
lavandula
purpura
porphyrophobia
fluffense
~
we mixed Latin with Italian
musical notation
Trifolium pianissimo
very soft
~
4.
our drive arrived
our wait was over
botanical field-guide
verified Trifolium arvense
Rabbit-foot, ‘of-the-field’, Hare’s-foot, Stone Clover
~
a footnote: sometime the botanical description is no help at all…
Trifolium arvense L.
“…long-villous 10-nerved sessile campanulate calyces crowded, spreading, their setiform teeth much longer that the tube and the marcescent corolla…”
Fernald, Gray’s Manual of Botany, 1950.
© Jane Tims 2011
beneath the vine
Vines sculpt spaces as they grow, clinging to and draping across the surfaces they choose to colonise.
Telephone poles display armloads of Virginia Creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia ( L.) Planch.) …
The moose fence along the highway is softened by a curtain of Virgin’s Bower (Clematis virginiana L.) …
Purple grapes, ready to pick, fill the arbour with soft shade…
ripened shadows
~
under layered leaves
marbled shadows hang
in cloistered dark
~
cool nonchalance
columnar grey intensifies
as grapes grow ripe
~
taut green ferments
to purple must
and effervesces air
~
even where no surface intercepts
clustered shadows
ready to pick
~
© Jane Tims 2011
course of the creek
Our small cabin is near a lake, an offshoot of the Saint John River. We have what some would consider poor access to the lake, since there is a marsh between us and the lake shore edge. But that marsh is a very special place, ever changing and always interesting.
One way it changes, almost daily and certainly seasonally, is with respect to water level. You could say we are downstream of the entire Saint John River, meaning we are receiver of every fluctuation of the water level in the system. The situation is made complex by the influence of a major hydroelectric dam at Mactaquac.
In spring, the river floods, and the marsh is covered by water…
In normal years, the water levels become quite low, and our marsh is high and dry. We can walk on it, to reach the outer shore of the lake…
the green in the foreground is the marsh
In wet years, like this has been, the water stays high and there is a pond between us and the main lake…
On Saturday, I went rowing on the pond in my small red rowboat. I rowed out to the edge of the lake and then followed the deeper waters of the small winding creek back into the marsh as far as I could go without grounding the boat. Last year I could see pumpkinseed sunfish in the creek water, but not this time.
Most of the grasses in the marsh are Spartina pectinata Link., broad-leaf cord-grass, ordinarily associated with salt marshes. Actually, salt water is characteristic of the lower parts of the Saint John River – the salt water wedge extends as high as Washademoak Lake, and the tidal influence is measurable to above Fredericton!
At the outer shore of the pond, where the creek enters the lake, I was surprised and delighted to find a few stems of wild rice (Zizania aquatica L.). This is not native to New Brunswick, but is often planted along shores to attract waterfowl and is now found all along the Saint John River and in many lakes. The grass is distinctive because the pistillate (female) flowers are in a group near the top of the plant while the staminate (male) flowers are on horizontal banches below.
I am an awkward rower. Usually, to improve my control and reduce my speed, I row the boat backward, stern first! In spite of my lack of speed, it is an adventure to be on the water, to become a bit of an explorer. My need to know the ways of the pond reminds me of my attempts to understand the path my life has taken.
characteristics of creek
~
clumsy row in the marsh pond
to seek the course of the creek
the strand of water’s flow
to nourish pond define
its shape conduit
to the lake
~
a slender S through grass emergent
pondweed and cord-grass vague
deviation from clarity hyaline the interface
of freshwater and salt and pumpkinseed
turn their flat bodies to intercept
the flow find the break in the mat of sedge
narrow simplicity of weed-free bottom
~
search
and find
the inevitable
thread in flow of
story the theme to bind
the words and water into one
~
© Jane Tims 2011
cascade across the rock
Earlier this summer, in July, we visited Little Sheephouse Falls, northwest of Miramichi. The Falls are part of the watershed of the South Branch of the Big Sevogle River.
To see Little Sheephouse Falls requires a short hike through mixed woods. The trail to the Falls is very well maintained by the forest company who manages the area and was an easy walk in spite of my arthritic knees.
The woods were green with ferns and other woodland plants. My favourite of these was a little vine of Mitchella repens L. cascading across a lichened rock. Commonly known as Partidge-berry, Mitchella is a small vine with roundish opposite leaves, often found growing in shady, mossy woods. It has pinkish flowers and small red berries. The Flora I consulted says it is found where it can be free from the competition of more vigorous plants.
Mitchella repens growing across a rock in the woods
We did not go to the base of the falls, but kept to the trails navigating the escarpment. The falls are about 20 meters high, with a large pool and a cave at the base. They were a white torrent on the day we visited, making a rumbling thunder in striking contrast to the quiet woods.
Little Sheephouse Falls
Directions to Little Sheephouse Falls, and other waterfalls in New Brunswick, are contained at Nicholas Guitard’s website http://www.waterfallsnewbrunswick.ca and in his 2009 book Waterfalls of New Brunswick (see ‘books about natural spaces’).
Waterfalls are spaces to soothe the soul and inspire love for natural areas. They engage the senses… the sounds of the gurgling stream and the roar of the waterfall, the feel of cool, clean water, and the sight of water bubbling and boiling, following the contours of the landscape.
the three fates, spinning
~
1.
wound on the rock
mended by waterfall thread
~
2.
at last I touch
the water
real, wet water
(not a report or diagram
but the flavor feel and smell
of water)
~
it pours through my fingers
delivers to me
the mosses
the lichens
(the moth on the pin where she has always
wanted to be)
~
3.
the doe must feel this
as she crosses
the road-to-nowhere
when the birch and aspen enfold her
~
or the ant
as she maps the labyrinth
on the rotting morel
when she touches the ground
(blessed ground)
~
or the needles of white pine
when they find the note
split the wind into song
~
4.
the three fates
spinning
~
the waterfall
diverted by the rock
~
Published as: “the three fates, spinning”, The Antigonish Review 165, Spring 2011.
(revised)
© Jane Tims
needles of white pine...split the wind into song
competing with the squirrels #2
We watched our hazelnuts carefully every day until August 11, certain the squirrels would not get them ahead of us.
our hazelnuts, almost ready to pick
Then, as humans do, we went on a small vacation, and returned on August 14, only three days later.
As soon as I was out of the car, I went to have a look at my hazelnuts.
And not one remained.
no hazelnuts
The squirrels got the hazelnuts.
No poem can express my dismay.
Next year…
Warning: 1. never eat any plant if you are not absolutely certain of the identification; 2. never eat any plant if you have personal sensitivities, including allergies, to certain plants or their derivatives; 3. never eat any plant unless you have checked several sources to verify the edibility of the plant. © Jane Tims 2012along the country road #5
Not far from where I live is a new road, built a few years ago along the edge of a field. When it was first built, it was a scar on the land, its ditches unlovely smears of muck.
This year, the weeds of the roadside have moved in to fill the empty spaces with green. At one place, where the new road joins the old, it is particularly wet and the ditches have been overwhelmed with a green and orange explosion of Jewel Weed.
Jewel Weed growing with cattails in a wet ditch
a profusion of Jewel Weed
The botanist, Nicolaas Meerburgh, who first named the plant, called it capensis, meaning “of the cape” since he wrongly thought it had been introduced from the Cape of Good Hope into European gardens.
Jewel Weed (Impatiens capensis Meerb.)
Jewel Weed
Impatiens capensis Meerb.
~
Jewel Weed
orange and green
tangled in the gully
spotted spurred
impatiente
for a visit
from a hummingbird
~
Jewel Weed
not used as gems
for lady’s ears
not (after all)
from the Cape
of Good Hope-
Celandine tends
to mope
~
Jewel Weed
pendulant
petulant
“Touch-me-not!
or I fling
seeds from my pods
into the spring”
~
© Jane Tims
nichepoetryandprose 