Posts Tagged ‘Monotropa uniflora’
drear November: Project #3 – preparing a new trail
A week ago, my husband gave me this year’s Christmas present – a new length of trail for us to walk. He flagged some trees to open up an old trail in our grey woods. Then he hired some local men to fell the trees, cut them in four foot lengths, and set them to the side of the trail. Today he was out with the tractor, taking out some of the high spots.
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Last weekend, he took me for a walk to scope out the new walkway. It’s still very rough but you can see the final trail if you use your imagination. Over the winter and next spring, he will clear the stray branches, smooth the bumps, and fill the hollows. The trail is 750 steps from beginning to end. It loops the back half of our acre lot and extends to an old road on the property behind us which we also own..
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One of my favourite parts of the trail is a small clearing I visited with my Mom years ago. She found Ghost Pipe, also called Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora), growing there. This is an odd plant that does not contain chlorophyll. It is white in colour and the flower has between 3 and 8 waxy white petals. The flower occurs, as the name suggests, at the top of a stem bent like a pipe. Mom loved her find so much, she put a ring of shingles around the plants to protect them from trampling.
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In later years I have visited the site regularly although I have never seen the Ghost Pipes again. A few years ago, I put an iron bird feeder there on the surface of a big hardwood tree. The feeder has the image of Saint Francis of Assisi.
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I think of this little grove as ‘Mom’s Park.’ My mom has been gone more than 20 years but her love of plants, and her aim to protect them, is with me every day.
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I have written about Mom’s Park in the past ( here ) and repeat the poem I wrote for that post here:
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ghost pipe
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in grey woods
Saint Francis
cast in iron
watches wild
life pass by
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red squirrel
ceaseless jitter
white-tailed deer
pauses, listens
a chipmunk
runs the log
fallen tree
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time also
passes by
Aralia
and bracken
replace white
ghost pipe, once
grew here, all
nature a mirror
of our lives
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When the path is more defined, I will put a small bench in Mom’s Park where I can sit and enjoy our grey woods.
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With this post, I will thank my husband for such a thoughtful gift. These days, walking in our woods is synonymous with keeping up my health. But our grey woods will always be my favourite place to meet with nature.
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All my best,
Jane (a.k.a. Alexandra )
Waiting for wild life to pass by
Back in our Grey Woods is a tiny ‘park’. Just an area I try to keep clean of dead-falls. Years ago, my Mom loved this little area. She found ‘ghost pipe’, also called ‘Indian pipe’ (Monotropa uniflora), growing there. These are parasitic plants without chlorophyll. They are small, less than 20 cm high. The ‘pipe’ is an excellent descriptor since a plant consists of a nodding head on a slender stem.
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My Mom tried to protect these uncommon plants from trampling by putting shingles in the ground to mark the location.
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The ghost pipes no longer grow there. The shingles have rotted and disappeared. Change is inevitable and in this little park, change is likely related to nutrient conditions. My Mom is also gone but I keep the little park to remember the day she tried to save the ghost pipe.
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One addition I made to the area is a small bird feeder. I installed the feeder on an old red maple tree. The feeder is painted iron, moulded in the form of Saint Francis of Assisi. Saint Francis lived in Italy at the turn of the thirteenth century and is known for his love of animals and the natural environment. He believed nature was the mirror of God and the animals were his brothers and sisters. He even preached to the birds (Source: Wikipedia).
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ghost pipe
~
in grey woods
Saint Francis
cast in iron
watches wild
life pass by
~
red squirrel
ceaseless motion
white-tailed deer
pauses, listens
a chipmunk
runs the log
fallen tree
~
time also
passes by
Aralia
and bracken
replace white
ghost pipe, once
grew here, all
nature a mirror
of our lives
~

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All my best,
Jane
























