Possumhaw: A Little Color In Winter’s Drabness
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As winter reaches its climax, just before it begins giving way to hints of spring on the landscape, colors in the forest become muted. Even as the bluebird sky sits overhead and the sun sends crystal clear beams of light to warm our faces, it seems the lack of bright colors often magnifies the dominance of browns and greys in the woods of Harmony Hill. After just a short walk along the creek and bottomland portions of this gorgeous place, it doesn’t take much effort to begin to see tiny glimmers of bright red against the palettes of desaturated colors.
We are always encouraging our readers to look beyond what many see as ordinary or drab to see the beauty right at our fingertips. Part of that is in seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary and the brilliant hidden in drabness. Join us as we spotlight a common species that has eye catching berries that lift our spirits on even the most overcast days of winter.
There are some pretty unforgettable common names for plants and animals out there, names that sound so odd you won’t forget them and may just make you laugh when you say them. One such name is Possumhaw (Ilex decidua) and is the most commonly used common name for our species during this visit.
The scientific name Ilex decidua also alludes to one of the more fitting common names, Deciduous Holly, as it simply translates to a holly that is deciduous! Ever wonder where the term “deciduous” comes from? Well, the etymology for the word comes from “de”, Latin for “down”, and “cadere”, Latin for “to fall”. So, deciduous in plants refers to having leaves that fall down!
Whatever you call it, it is easy to identify this time of year and, though it is a common species, is worthy of stopping along the way to admire.
The defining characteristic of this plant in late winter are the red berries that still cling to its branches. Even for someone with only a limited exposure to plants or the outdoors, the red berries that are common amongst members of the Holly family (Aquifoliaceae) are obvious. And it is those very berries we look to when identifying Possumhaw today. Sure, we can talk about its shrubby size, usually growing to about 20’-25’ in height. Or we could point out its incredibly thin grey bark, often with lighter splotches highlighting portions of the trunk and branches. Or we could mention the warty stems holding the berries. But we know the thing that will catch your attention will be the red berries, growing in bunches or singly.
Beginning as small, nondescript white flowers in mid-spring, the berries begin to develop around September and October. Though they may turn orange or yellow, they usually become that signature holly red and are noticeable by November. Certainly, by December, when most of the leaves of the forest trees have fallen, they are conspicuous.
As much as we’d like to think that maybe Possumhaw put those berries there just to brighten our day, we know that isn’t the case. Those berries are fruit that hold the seeds for the next generation and are not there for us. In fact, like the berries of other Aquifoliaceae, they are not good for human consumption. The berries are toxic and can cause vomiting and sickness in small doses and much worse in larger doses.
Humans do use the berries for something else, however. In a continuation of its holly lineage, Possumhaw has been used in winter and holiday decorations. Taking advantage of the red berries, people have used twigs and branches loaded with Possumhaw berries to add to wreaths, arrangements, and ornaments for many generations.
Even animals who eat the berries only eat them in small amounts and usually wait until later in the season to begin consuming them. It appears Possumhaw berries are not a preferred food of the mammals and birds that eat them. White-tailed Deer, Raccoons, Northern Mockingbirds, American Robins, Cedar Waxwings and even Northern Bobwhite Quail take advantage of them as a food source.
And that name, Possumhaw? Well, it comes from the fact that Opossums do, in fact, eat the berries that look a little like hawthorn berries. That gives us the etymology, by joining Possum from Opossum and haw from hawthorn, we get the slightly hilarious name of Possumhaw!
Some older southerners have been known to call this plant Winterberry. And where its range gets into mountainous regions of the Appalachian and Ozark ranges, locals often call it Bearberry, in reference to Black Bears consuming the berries.
Next time you’re walking in the winter woods where there is at least partial shade and the soil moisture is mostly constant, keep your eye out for these berries and smile as you say, “Possumhaw!” It can tolerate a range of soil types, from sandy to clay. But it needs pretty consistent soil moisture and some shade. Where there is partial shade from a hardwood and pine overstory, there appears to be more prolific berry production.
Finally, while it is possible to get perfect flowers on some plants in which both male and female reproductive parts are present, it is far more common that there are male plants and female plants. Where you see berries, that is a female plant that has a nearby male plant to pollinate it.
There you have it… our ordinary plant that delivers something more than ordinary for our eyes in the midst of the drabness of late winter. Possumhaw, or Deciduous Holly, with a little pop of color in the doldrums just before spring!
A Drop of Golden Sun
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Time spent walking in the woods can almost be like looking through a kaleidoscope this time of year. Flowers are bursting with colors of reds, blues, yellows, and purples. Birds carry the rainbow upon their backs, as cardinals, goldfinches, buntings, and warblers dart through the trees. Butterflies rival the very plants they visit for nectar, with an iridescence and brightness that looks as though they were refracted through a prism. Even on days when we might not have as much energy to bound out of bed and explore the forest, and yes, we have those days on occasion, Mother Nature recharges our batteries and reinvigorates our spirits with shades Crayola would be envious of.
It was on one such walk that we came upon a small stand of wildflowers just on the edge of a wooded area. Even though a common species of spring, the sheer brightness and eye-popping color of this flower is reason to celebrate and take a moment to investigate its natural history.
Going by a few different common names such as Narrowleaf Evening Primrose and Sundrops, Oenothera fruticosa is brilliant bloomer in early spring at Harmony Hill.
But what’s in name? A member of the Evening Primrose family, (Onagraceae), Narrowleaf Evening Primrose doesn’t exactly abide by the rules of the family. Instead of blooming in the evening, this species blooms early in the day! Despite it being a diurnal evening primrose, the Narrowleaf Evening Primrose does have narrow, lanceolate (or shaped like a lance) leaves. And the origin of the name, Sundrops, can be seen in the blossom that looks bright and shiny, as drops of sunlight atop the stem of this plant.
What about the scientific name, Oenothera fruticosa? The genus name is a bit complicated, with no one entirely sure of the etymology. The translation means “wine seeker”, but that doesn’t really tell us anything. This plant doesn’t grow in vineyards or prefer to grow near grapes. Well, most naturalists think it might be that the roots of a similar plant or a relative of Sundrops was used to add flavor or scent to wines centuries ago.
One thing we can agree on is that, when in full bloom, Narrowleaf Evening Primrose is as intoxicating as any wine could be to the soul.
Blooming from late April to late June during some years, we’ve seen rainfall and temperature impact that bloom time. If winter and spring rains don’t develop or it tends to get hotter early in the spring, it isn’t out of the question to see Narrowleaf Evening Primrose bloom only in May. This year has been a good year for Sundrops, as we first saw it blooming in very late April and the last blooms were finishing up just a couple weeks ago.
In our time in the field here at Harmony Hill, we couldn’t help but notice the obvious attraction Narrowleaf Evening Primrose holds for pollinator species. Sure enough, a wonderful variety of pollinators visit this gorgeous plant. We’ve observed several species of butterflies taking nectar at the gorgeous blooms, and even witnessed a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird hover and sip at one of the flowers. Moths in the Sphingidae family are also known to take advantage of Sundrops, as well as other evening primrose flowers. They can even be a vital pollinator of evening primroses!
Probably the coolest example of pollination of evening primroses occurs in at least one species of sweat bee, the Eastern Evening Primrose Sweat Bee (Lasioglossum oenotherae). In gardens with cultivar species of evening primrose flowers, the Eastern Evening Primrose Bee is so closely tied to this genus that it is their species name! Being active early in the morning and late in the evening, this specialist sweat bee is active when the garden varieties of primroses are open and become a primary pollinator. One odd fact about this bee is that, despite their dedication and specialization to the Oenothera genus, there have been no reliable reports of this species utilizing native and wild evening primrose plants. That includes Narrowleaf Evening Primrose.
Side note on bee vision and colors that attract them on the landscape; bees see along a different color spectrum than humans. Seeing well into the ultraviolet, bee color vision doesn’t begin on the color spectrum until well into the orange wavelengths, with yellow being the foundation of where they begin to see colors. Red does not register in their vision, but when red mixes with blue and becomes purple (violet!), they absolutely respond.
Bees are also capable of seeing where one shape ends and another begins, with particularly acute vision for seeing changes in light and dark. Though quite good at noticing where something ends, soft edges and smooth lines can prove difficult for them to discern.
Flowers have evolved far more to meet the needs of pollinators like bees than bees have evolved to take advantage of flowers. Flowers with colors between yellow-orange and violet attract bees by sight more than black, red, or white flowers. Flowers with crisp edges to their petals also attract bees more often.
But, as technology has advanced, we have discovered patterns and shapes of flowers unseen by human eyes. Under ultraviolet light, we have begun to see patterns that look exactly like bullseyes and landing strips that are billboards advertising “EAT HERE” or “STOP BY FOR THE BEST NECTAR IN TOWN”!
Found across much of North America, the beauty of Sundrops was revered by early European settlers. It was eventually taken to Europe and introduced due to its brilliant yellow flowers, as well as introduced to other states and provinces. Originally, it was found from New England, down to Florida and westward to eastern Oklahoma.
With four petals of near perfect sunlight yellow, it is obvious to anyone why bees and other insects would be attracted to Narrowleaf Evening Primrose.
We’d like to provide a tip for identifying this plant when you encounter it. The leaf arrangement on Sundrops is usually alternate, particularly farther down the stem of the plant. However, as you get higher on the stem, and nearer the blooms, it is very likely that you’ll notice the leaves begin occurring opposite one another. Plants usually have sparse leaves, only occurring sporadically on the stem. However, it is not uncommon to find plants with thick arrangements of leaves that look almost roseate in arrangement. Be aware there is a fair degree of variability among this species, sometimes even within the same stand of flowers.
By far, we observe plants with sparse leaves that are long and thin, or lanceolate, in appearance on the property.
Though it is perfectly capable of spreading into areas of well-drained soils and abundant sunlight, we have never seen Narrowleaf Evening Primrose grow out of control or outcompete other wildflowers at Harmony Hill. What we have noticed is the sheer joy the glowing golden flowers, so appropriately nicknamed Sundrops, brings when we see them in the spring. And we have noticed that pollinators also see the loveliness, even if it is more for the prized tastes of nectar and pollen offered by this daytime blooming evening primrose. They exchange that nectar and pollen in return for carrying their pollen to others and making seeds for the next generation of Sundrops. And we’d like to think Mother Nature exchanges the beauty we see in return for us caring for the environment and helping ensure the next generation knows the importance of conserving the water, the air, the flora, and the fauna found around us. We think that is a more than fair trade for what we’re given on a daily basis!
Trailing Arbutus: Early Spring Beauty
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A morning walk along the creek. An afternoon stroll in the trees. A nighttime outing in a field. These are all things that connect us to nature. And nature connects us to what we see, hear, and smell. On a grander scale, nature connects us to our neighbors, to the oceans, and to places miles and miles from Harmony Hill. Among the many daily lessons we learn as we spend time in nature and study her wonders, one of our favorites is this: there is no separation.
This week, let’s look more closely at a small wildflower that can be found blooming quite early in the spring from southern Quebec to the panhandle of Florida and from Minnesota to Mississippi. Even as we kneel beneath a Loblolly Pine in the lower piedmont of South Carolina, we see a diminutive flower blooming that links us and this beautiful place to other people and locations we’ve never seen. Range maps do that very thing, you know. They don’t simply show us where a species has been documented or can be found at various times of the year. They also illustrate sites that have some sort of similarity to where we are and, to a very real extent, places we are also responsible for protecting.
Trailing Arbutus (Epigaea repens) is not a terribly rare plant, as is demonstrated by its wide range across eastern North America. But it is a delicate flower that doesn’t tolerate much disturbance on the landscape, whether that is soil disturbance, flooding, or prolonged drought. Where it is well established; however, it can eventually grow into a lovely mat of green leaves and, this time of year, small whitish and pinkish tubular flowers. As is the case with our friend, the Spotted Salamander, we can use this plant as a type of metric for our management efforts and even for weather patterns at Harmony Hill. Though it doesn’t grow in many places here, Trailing Arbutus can give us indicators of whether we’re getting adequate rainfall, whether we’ve had too much rain and the creek as left its banks, or whether our thinning operations in thick wooded areas have been done responsibly.
As for evidence this plant is a connection for us to this planet, one need only look to the scientific name of Epigaea repens. The genus name, Epigaea, is a joining of two words that form to mean “upon the earth”. The prefix, epi-, translates to “above or upon”, and Gaea is an alternate spelling of Gaia, the Greek deity who is the personification of Mother Earth and who gave birth to the Titans and all life. The species name, repens, translates to “creeping”, as a direct reference to its habit of growing low and, when conditions are right, forming a ground cover.
Stepping back and reevaluating the translation of the scientific name, Trailing Arbutus is a plant that grows low upon the surface of Mother Earth, a place we all share!
Trailing Arbutus grows best in acidic soils that are well-drained, which Harmony Hill is blessed with. In the places we’ve documented it, it favors sandy soils in forests which are dominated by Loblolly Pines. Those soils provide superb drainage and have an inherently low pH. These sites provide partial shade and the mulch of fallen pine needles soften the blow of deer and even human feet; but, are also a double-edged sword. These sandy loams are the first to see the effects of occasional summer droughts that we’ve seen last for far too long. While Trailing Arbutus is tolerant of heat and drought, there have been summers that have been oppressively hot, with a lack of rain that stressed even adult trees with healthy root systems.
Down the hill towards the bottomland hardwoods and the creek, we find sites that can host Epigaea repens, but are not conducive for long lasting success. The soils are nice and acidic, but conditions are not best for Trailing Arbutus to grow for long. Though it doesn’t flood on a regular or predictable timetable, we’ve seen the creek spill well out of its banks and flood the forest floor for extended periods. Soils that are too wet or see standing water for any real length of time are incompatible for this plant to succeed. Also, the midstory and upper story of the forest can be a little too shady, blocking precious sunlight from this groundcover.
Soil compaction is another disturbance that will harm growing Trailing Arbutus and will prevent it from expanding on the landscape. But in a twist of irony, it can readily take advantage of wooded areas that have been opened and disturbed by fire or even mechanical means.
The flowers, while usually white, can also be found with various shades of pink on their tubular structure. Those tubes normally measure between ½” – ¾”, though they have been known to grow as long as 1”. Just a week after the flowers disappear, a small white fruit develops, resembling a tiny, pale raspberry. Thicker, leathery green leaves, measuring up to 2 ½”, are found all year, well after the beautiful flowers have faded.
Besides delivering a pop of elegance on the forest floor, Trailing Arbutus is utilized by wildlife. The fruit of the plant is eaten by a wide variety of birds, especially thrushes, towhees, cardinals, thrashers, and mockingbirds. It is also believed small mammals may consume the fruit.
Culturally, humans have used the leaves for various medicinal remedies and treatments since long before we walked the sacred grounds of Harmony Hill. Native Americans have made teas and tinctures to treat kidney and urinary issues, as well as stomach cramps and joint pain.
In more recent history, the common names of Mayflower and Plymouth Mayflower were given to Trailing Arbutus, as it was thought to be the first wildflower observed by pilgrims after their first harsh winter in the new world. We don’t know if that tale is true or not, but we can easily see how this early spring wildflower would lift the spirits of anyone after a long, hard winter!
One small plant, barely lifting more than a few inches off the ground. That’s what we’ve been discussing. A delicate flower on a plant susceptible to being snuffed out by flooding or ground disturbance, but is one of the first to bloom and remind us of the newness of spring.
But also, this plant is a reminder of our connection to nature, to this planet and, as it turns out, to both Native American culture and American history! When we observe Trailing Arbutus, we are reminded of people before us using it to treat ailments, of early settlers emerging from a trying winter to see its blooms promising better days, and of being responsible with how we move and alter the land. In being good stewards, we seek to better the land and get Harmony Hill to a more sustainable state, where her ecosystems are healthy and require less and less of the hand of man. In getting there, we want our footprint to be as light as possible. Trailing Arbutus is a plant we can use as a reminder to be as delicate in our philosophy and approach as it is on the landscape. And, as we look at the range map of this and other species, we hope others see the same connection and understand the responsibility of conserving places and things for others we may never meet.
Anticipating a Springtime Friend: Identifying Whorled Loosestrife
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Like so many of you, this time of year puts a little extra pep in our step, giving us a renewed sense of optimism. Each morning brings the songs of birds either returning to Harmony Hill for the spring and summer or passing through on the way to their breeding grounds north of here. The sun comes up a little earlier each morning and sets just a little later each evening, giving us two or three additional minutes of light each day. From the shortest days of winter, which are slightly under ten hours of sunlight, we reach our maximum of a smidge over 14 ½ hours of sunlight on the summer solstice. These April days between the two extremes lift us and have us looking forward.
Just as we miss family and friends after long absences, getting excited when we know a visit with loved ones draws near, our hearts also flutter knowing we will get to see our friends in Mother Nature who have been gone for many months. As we walk along the edge of the creek and look out at portions of the forest that are more open, we become giddy knowing there are wildflowers returning to fill those spaces very soon. Let’s talk about one of our old wildflower friends who we look forward to returning in the weeks to come.
During these talks, we cover a lot of material. We love to give the meanings of scientific names, the backstory on where some common names originate, as well as the when and where to look for plants and animals. Just as often, we love to give you identification tips and equip you with the knowledge to head outside, search, and discover the flora and fauna around you. Today, we would love to introduce you to a wildflower friend that you will be able to spot even in a crowd!
You know those people in your life that you can tell from a distance, even if they change their hairstyle, the way they dress, or even if they wear a hat and shades? Though there may be something different about their appearance, their posture and their overall being is unmistakable. Our friend, Whorled Loosestrife (Lysimachia quadrifolia), is exactly that to us.
As the common name “whorled” and the species name of “quadrifolia” imply, this plant *usually* exhibits four leaves surrounding the stem of the plant. But that is not always the case. It is pretty common for these whorls of leaves to number anywhere from 3-7. Like your friend who got a new haircut or wardrobe, this might change Whorled Loosestrife’s look; but, it doesn’t change the essence of the plant.
There are also usually four individual flowers held delicately out from the leaves and stem. The first clue we want you to key in on is with these beautiful yellow star-like flowers. They will be yellow, have red streaking or spots on the interior of the petals, and those five petals will be arranged in a star pattern.
Another identification tip we would like for you to focus on are the fine hairs on the leaves, flower axils, and stem of the plant. Seeing that pubescence over nearly the entirety of the plant, with a whorl of leaves usually numbering four, and fragile-looking five-petaled yellow star flowers, means our friend the Whorled Loosestrife is now your friend! It is easy to identify, though it may try to throw you a curveball by having a slightly different look than the name, quadrifolia, would make you think.
Found from Maine to Alabama and northward to the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota, Whorled Loosestrife prefers moist soils with partial sunlight. As a matter of fact, we look for it in wetter areas that occasionally see flooding or the boundaries of wooded areas that can hold water at various times of the year. However, in keeping with its penchant to do things a touch differently, you can sometimes find it growing in drier, sandy soils with several hours of direct sunlight. We’ve found this wonderfully eclectic friend growing in nearly full sun in a pine stand with mostly sandy soil, just to remind you it might be hanging out in a crowd you wouldn’t expect!
Even where it is found in our region can be variable. You are far more likely to find it growing in the piedmont and mountain areas of the state. But be on the lookout as you venture into the upper sandhills and coastal plain! There are disjunct populations of this wildflower found well away from the majority of the range, skipping entire counties and sections of states to be found near the coast.
The very flowers that we told you are definitive ways to identify Whorled Loosestrife begin opening in very early June and continue through late August. To keep you on your toes, Lysimachia quadrifolia is perfectly capable of blooming from late May all the way into mid-September!
Whorled Loosestrife can reproduce by underground rhizomes or by seed. In an interesting twist on cloning by rhizome, the root system between a parent plant and its offspring usually breaks down and the two plants lose their connection not long after the clone sprouts. This loss of direct connection prevents Lysimachia quadrifolia from becoming too dominant on a landscape, as can be the case with some plants that use underground rhizomes to reproduce.
Seeds develop from pollinated flowers and fall directly to the ground. With no dispersal of seeds by birds, mammals, or insects; and with rhizomes being the other means of reproduction, populations of Whorled Loosestrife tend to be found locally and in pockets.
With its wide-open flowers, this wildflower attracts an equally wide variety of insect pollinators. Numerous species of bees and butterflies visit the flowers for pollen and a small taste of nectar.
Prehistorically and historically, there are tales of Native American tribes who utilized the landscapes of Harmony Hill long before we arrived using Whorled Loosestrife to treat kidney diseases. And farmers in Europe, as well as early settlers to the thirteen colonies, would feed members of the Lysimachia genus to cows, oxen, and other beasts of burden to calm them and make them work as one. That leads us to the genus name our wildflower friend.
Legend has it that Lysimachus, a military leader who worked under Alexander the Great and who would later become King of Thrace, used a plant related to Lysimachia quadrifolia to soothe a temperamental ox. Lysimachus had a reputation for handling ancient beasts, even defeating a lion with his bare hands. Even with the tales of Lysimachus, there is, however, very little scientific data to back up the claim that Lysimachia quadrifolia can calm cows and cause them to work well as a team.
Myths and legends are one thing. But the beauty of Whorled Loosestrife is no myth. And the ability to identify it on the landscape can make you a legendary naturalist, particularly with its penchant to give you different looks. Just remember to look for the whorl of leaves, the yellow flowers with five petals, and the pubescence over the majority of the plant! No matter if you find it in an open moist forest in the piedmont, where you would absolutely expect it, or in a sandy pine forest in the coastal plain, you know what to look for. Think of Whorled Loosestrife as we do, a lovely and dear friend who might just change up their look and who might also visit you when you don’t necessarily expect them. But a friend who is easy to spot, no matter the time and place… And a friend we cannot wait to see again this spring and summer!
Reflecting On the Year: A Fitting Plant To End 2021
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It is difficult to approach the end of a year without taking at least a quick peek over your shoulder at the days, weeks and months that have passed before the number on the calendar trips over to a new year. Like so many of us, this year at Harmony Hill has brought laughter that lifted our spirits and grief that reached deep into our souls. We had busy times that had our heads spinning, quiet moments that recharged our batteries, days with family surrounding us, and hours in the forests alone. Even with loss still part of 2021, we are filled with the joy and hope found in nature. And when preparing to focus on a species as our last for the year, we were reminded of one wildflower in particular that may very well encompass this year for us. For many reasons, Euonymus americanus is our final discussion on the flora and fauna of Harmony Hill for this year.
If you’ve ambled in the woods with us very much, you’ll know we often mention the problem with common names. From birds to plants, what common names a species is called may depend on geographic location, family tradition or even whimsy. Green Herons (Butorides virescens) can be called Little Herons, Green Bittern or Shitepoke, all depending upon where you are and who you ask! The same barrage of common names accompanies Euonymus americanus. What folks call this plant, outside of the scientific name, is as varied as the weather in March.
Sometimes called American Strawberry Bush, Strawberry Bush and Wahoo Shrub, this plant could fill a small phonebook with its common names. Our personal favorite common names, however; happen to be Hearts-a-bustin’ and, especially, Hearts-a-burstin’, because that is precisely how we feel when we look back at this year focusing on the wonders and beauty found outside at Harmony Hill.
Hearts-a-burstin’ isn’t a horribly uncommon plant across its range of New York to Florida, and westward to Missouri and Texas. Though it prefers moist areas with at least some shade, it can be found in a variety of soil types, from clay to sand. Even with its preference for moist soils, it is not tolerant of standing water or flooding; so, it often found near the creek banks at Harmony Hill.
For much of the year, Hearts-a-burstin’ tends to be a fairly inconspicuous plant. The leaves are not large and neither is the plant itself. While it can grow to six feet in height and even form a thin “hedge”, it tends to be sparse and little more than two to four feet tall at Harmony Hill. The small white flowers that bloom in the late spring are not showy at all. Many people might even walk past them without noticing them as they bloom through May and June.
Come the fall of the year, this nondescript plant takes center stage wherever it is found. Those little white flowers that attracted very little attention in the spring transform into a fruiting body that demands attention! Suddenly, bumpy pods of reddish-lavender that hang from the green stems of the shrub draw your eye directly to them.
As lovely as those pods are, they still have one more gorgeous trick up their sleeves. True to their names, these “hearts” burst wide open to reveal several orange-red seeds, completing a vibrant metamorphosis from small, plain white flowers to nearly neon fruit. And with that transition, it becomes clear where the myriad common names originate. It doesn’t take much imagination to see strawberries and bursting hearts hanging from those stems.
The scientific name provides an added appreciation for this plant. The genus name of Euonymus is a reference to the “honored name” of Euonymus, son of Gaia. Gaia, of course, was the Greek deity who was the personification of Earth and birthed the beauty of nature. Euonymous was also the half-brother of Narcissus (or full brother, depending upon which mythologies you read). With all of the faults of Narcissus, a beautiful flower of the same name sprouted in the spot where he died; bringing another layer to the family connection to plants!
Of course, the species name indicates it found in America.
But are there other Euonymus species found other places? Glad you asked!
There are other, indeed, species found on other continents. Of particular interest, Spindle Tree (Euonymus europaeus) is more familiar to you than you think. The fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty is rooted, forgive the pun, in the Euonymus genus. The spindle that pricked her finger and put her fast asleep was of the Spindle Tree!
All of this is a play upon plants in this genus being poisonous to humans, with vomiting, upset stomach and other serious digestive issues accompanying consumption. As an aside, a number of Native American tribes found ways to utilize this plant to attempt to treat stomach ailments.
Hearts-a-burstin’ reproduces most often by suckers and runners. The seeds of Hearts-a-burstin’ are viable, but are not as a reliable way to propagate when compared to suckers.
A few species of birds, such as Northern Cardinals, thrushes and Northern Mockingbirds dine on the seeds. White-tailed Deer are known to graze readily on the stems of Hearts-a-burstin’, assisting in the pruning of some of the sprouting suckers that might zap the main plant of valuable water and nutrients.
We hope you’ve enjoyed our last virtual nature walk together this year and we hope that, like us, your hearts are a-burstin’ with love for nature and with sincere gratitude for another year to make a positive difference in this world. And we also hope looking more closely at Euonymus americanus has given you a deeper respect for the plants and animals right outside your backdoor.
Thank you for joining us on our visits and we look forward to many more journeys together with you in the new year. Peace and light to you all in 2022!
For our friend, Kurt… you are still loved and lifted. Our hearts are still a-burstin’ with wonderful memories of you. Thank you for your smile and your goodness.
Ghost Pipes: A Lesson In Connections
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If you’ve read very many of our posts on plants and animals, you’ve likely noticed we approach everything at Harmony Hill in a holistic manner. We look at how things are connected in nature, and we deeply appreciate the relationships we see between the flora and fauna found here. That holistic approach extends to the garden and even how we manage the forests of Harmony Hill. John Muir once said, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.” And we try to spotlight just how things are hitched together in our visits with you during these posts. Today, we look at how a unique flower, fungi and trees are hitched to each other. And as is our hope with each story of the land we tell, we hope you carry that appreciation of the connections that are ever-present in nature.
When the hottest days of summer are winding down, walks in the woods become longer and we linger more in moments of discovery. In those moments, our eyes wander to find colors other than the greens, blues, yellows, and purples of the usual wildflowers this time of year. Every now and then, when we’re lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, we find one of the rarer wildflowers of Harmony Hill. This flower is rare in blooming frequency here and it is rare in its life cycle. A true flower that looks more like a fungus. A true flower that, in fact, parasitizes mycorrhizal fungi to get nutrients and even water that the fungi are sharing in a symbiotic relationship with the roots of trees!
Ghost Pipe (Monotropa uniflora) is, to say the least, a curious looking plant. And, make no mistake, it is a plant. As much as it may look as though it should be classified as a fungus, it is every bit a flowering plant! With its ghostly white color, often accented with a tinge of light pink or pale red, its waxy flower, and its scaly leaves, it could easily win a plant costume contest for best impersonation of a fungus. It is so good at this that even scientists considered it a weird fungus for many years. However, the stem, the flower, the leaves, the pollen, and the roots prove it to be a true wildflower.
The oddities of Ghost Pipe don’t end with its zombie-like appearance, which is due to its complete lack of chlorophyll. Would you believe this plant is in the Heath Family (Ericaceae)? That’s right! It is a direct relative of heathers, blueberries, sparkleberry, and azaleas! Remember when we talked about Swamp Azaleas found at Harmony Hill? This little 5” parasitic plant is in the same family!
Now that we know this is a flowering plant and that it is a parasite, lacking chlorophyl, let’s look at how Ghost Pipe gets nutrients and how it reproduces.
To begin to tell that story, we must step away from Ghost Pipe for a little while and look at trees, their roots, and the relationship those roots have with mycorrhizal fungi.
There are fungi that weave into the root systems of trees to form a symbiotic relationship between the two organisms. The fungi and the trees are in a mutualistic relationship, in which both organisms benefit from the relationship. The trees provide the fungi with carbohydrates and nutrients, while the fungi increase the surface area and absorption rate of the trees’ roots and provide the tree with greater access to water and nutrient uptake from the soil.
It is a win-win for both parties and this mutualistic relationship spreads far and wide underneath the surface of the forest. That’s where Ghost Pipes come in to take advantage of this connectivity.
In a stroke of genius evolution, Ghost Pipes weave their roots into the mycorrhizal fungi and convince the fungi it is an active member of the same mutualistic relationship we just described. Instead of mutualism, Ghost Pipes establish a parasitic relationship with the fungi, which are working with tree roots. In essence, the Ghost Pipes are using the fungi to parasitize nutrients from trees! There are some hypotheses which seem to point to some sort of chemical signal in the Ghost Pipe roots that even prevent the fungi and trees from recognizing they’re being used, preventing them from growing galls or resisting the parasitic organism.
In fact, the vast majority of the life cycle of this cool plant is spent underground, taking advantage of the nutrients being syphoned from the tree roots and mycorrhizal fungi. This can go on for years! When the right conditions arise, the right combination of dry weather followed by wet weather, which we still don’t have a full understanding, the plant will send its stem up to hold a solitary flower. For just 5-7 days, the Ghost Pipe will show the world above ground its beauty.
As with so many other flowers, pollinators will come to visit the plant. Bumblebees, along with a few species of flies and other bees, are the most common visitors to the flowers of Ghost Pipe.
After pollination, extremely small seeds develop, and the flower of the Ghost Pipe will turn from facing the ground to standing straight up. Those seeds will eventually be released to the wind and the cycle will begin again.
Remember those chemical signals we said the plant likely uses to convince fungi that it is part of the mutualistic relationship with a tree? The same chemical signals are believed to be used by the seeds of Ghost Pipe as it waits until it can come into contact with an appropriate fungal host.
Let’s look back at that scientific name, Monotropa uniflora. It translates to “a single flower with one turn”. The one flower that blooms has one curve on the stem that makes it look like a pipe! With the pale white overall color of the plant, there is no wonder as to where the common name of “Ghost Pipe” comes from.
Native Americans were said to have used this plant as a pain relief medicine for everything from headaches to toothaches. Making tinctures from this plant, early settlers were also said to utilize this plant as a way to lower pain. It was said the key to making the tincture was to harvest the tiny plant while the flower was still turned down.
With a range covering much of North America, seeing Ghost Pipe for yourself is very possible. You just have to be in the right place at the right time. If you’re lucky enough to see it, take a few moments to celebrate the chemical trickery that allows a parasite to sneak into a mutualistic relationship, then grow into a flowering plant that looks exactly like a fungus. And remember why Harmony Hill looks at each habitat with a wide lens. Our view of the world is framed by the connections in nature and by the words Muir so eloquently said, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.” This is yet another example of that… a ghostly white flower sitting just a few inches above the ground reveals connections far beyond the scope of the postage stamp size ground it occupies.
Coral Honeysuckle
Autumn follows Summer and Winter follows Autumn. It is a cycle we all know well and, the years have taught us that Winter will make way for Spring. In nature, as in life, timing is everything. And, this week, we look at how timing for one species of plant plays an important role in the lives of species of insects and the resident species of hummingbird at Harmony Hill. Remember that word “connection” we often go back to in nature? These connections are everywhere, and they are ever-present… and this is yet another example of the connections that surround us in the natural world.
We’ve talked about some of the early blooming flowers found at Harmony Hill; those wildflowers that blossom before most other plants and bring the first pops of color to the forests and fields. As humans, we enjoy the beauty and colors of those early bloomers. Animals, such as pollinators, key in on these plants as a life-giving source of nectar and pollen. Beginning in early March, an evergreen vine in the honeysuckle family (Caprifoliaceae) sends whorls of bright red trumpet flowers up and out to greet the spring sun.
Coral Honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens) is an easy to identify vine native to the eastern half of the United States. There are a number of vines at Harmony Hill with red, trumpet-shaped flowers; but, none look like Coral Honeysuckle. Let’s look at how we identify this wildflower, why it is different and how climate change is impacting the important role it plays in the forests of Harmony Hill.
Coral Honeysuckle has flowers that are narrow and long for the size of the vine. They are almost always a shade of bright red, though there are some mutations and cultivated varieties (cultivars) that can be on the yellow/orange spectrum. Whorled at the end of the vine stem in groups of as many as 14 or 15, the red flowers open to reveal an interior that can also be red, orange or yellowish. But, above all, they open to reveal stamens and anthers that are loaded with pollen and extend well out from the trumpet; unlike other ride flowering vines here, such as Trumpet Creeper (Campsis radicans) or Crossvine (Bignonia capreolata). Those stamens and anthers are our first identifying field mark to look for!
Next, the word you should keep in mind when looking at Coral Honeysuckle is “opposite”! Everything is opposite on this vine. Whether we’re talking about the leaves or the way the flowers are whorled, they occur opposite one another. The leaves are, by far, the easiest of the field markers to notice and their opposite nature is clear. Speaking of opposite leaves, the last leaves on the vine, just below the flowers, are fused together into what we call a perfoliate arrangement of leaves. This perfoliate arrangement gives Coral Honeysuckle the look of two leaves that are joined together and pierced through by the stem of the vine, with a gorgeous bouquet of red trumpets almost exploding outwards.
Neither of our other red-flowered vines at Harmony Hill exhibit this perfoliate leaf structure. One more critical field marking to look for!
As for that scientific name, it is a tribute to a botanist and to the evergreen nature of this plant. Adam Lonicer was a German botanist and the genus name of Lonicera is a direct nod to his study of botany and herbal medicine. As for the species name of sempervirens, that refers to the “always living” evergreen nature of this plant. Sempervirens is a scientific name that comes up when referring to evergreen and “eternal” species, such as the California Redwood (Sequoia sempervirens).
Finally, Coral Honeysuckle is a wonderful flower for native pollinators at Harmony Hill. As you can see, there is an abundance of pollen sitting right outside each flower. And, being in the honeysuckle family, there are drops of nectar on the inside top of each flower. Add that to the bright red flowers and you have a hummingbird magnet if ever there was one!
But, this flower doesn’t just attract hummingbirds, like the native Ruby-throated Hummingbird (Archilochus colubris), at Harmony Hill. Butterflies, moths, bees and even ants are attracted to the pollen and nectar found on Coral Honeysuckle. As each pollinator examines the inside of the flower for tasty nectar, granules of pollen attach to their heads, legs and even wings. These pollen grains are then transferred over to another Coral Honeysuckle flower, where pollination can occur.
The fact that Coral Honeysuckle blooms early is no accident in nature. It begins blooming when there are few choices for pollinators, allowing it to attract their attention (and pollination skills!) when there are not many other plants to distract them. It also begins blooming just before, and just as, Ruby-throated Hummingbirds arrive at Harmony Hill. This provides a readily available food source for tired and hungry hummingbirds looking to feed up for the breeding season. Coral Honeysuckle also blooms on and off throughout the summer, giving pollinators (like hummingbirds) a food source right up until it is time to head south for the winter.
As climate change worsens and as we see warmer temperatures coming earlier and earlier each year, Coral Honeysuckle will continue to begin to bloom earlier, as well. This earlier bloom time will shift the overall blossom cycle of the plant here at Harmony Hill ahead on the calendar. This shift in blooming threatens to upset the balance of that readily available source of nectar and pollen for awakening and arriving pollinators.
In the years to come, as our planet warms and as seasons like Spring and Summer arrive earlier (and with a vengeance), the few days of Coral Honeysuckle blooming earlier will become weeks that it blooms early. And that change in bloom time will have an impact on the survivorship of Ruby-throated Hummingbirds that have traveled thousands of miles to return to places like Harmony Hill to breed. And we will see declines in populations of this lovely animal, along with populations of native bees, butterflies, moths and even ants.
There is no escaping the connection of one species to another. There is no escaping the connection we have to nature and to our planet. As John Muir once famously said, “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” Truer words have rarely been spoken.
Brilliant Lily Blooms
As we flip the calendar to June, the longer, hotter days that bring summer also bring another round of wildflowers to Harmony Hill. The early spring flowers have begun to fade and plants more capable of handling the sweltering heat of the lower piedmont have begun to flourish. But, before we flip the page on spring wildflowers, let’s take a moment to look at one of the earliest and most eye-catching blooms we have.
In late February, when the crimson flowers of Red Maples begin painting the bare forests, a brilliant white flower begins appearing in areas where it seemed only grass had been all winter. In areas with organic rich soils that also retain moisture, grass-like leaves of this early bloomer grow about 10”-16” tall. Throughout the much of the summer, fall and winter, these leaves are inconspicuous, and they tend to simply blend into other vegetation. However, come late February, that all changes. Flower stalks quickly grow, with impressive, crisp white flowers opening atop. The Atamasco Lily (Zephyranthes atamasca) is a showstopper and a wonderful way to whet anyone’s appetite for spring wildflowers!
A true harbinger of spring, the 3”- 4” flowers can be found as a single flower bloom or can also be found blooming in clumps of breathtaking blooms of as many as 12-24 flowers. And, as a lily, there are a few things we should already know about this flower. Let’s discuss a couple things that make lilies easy to identify…
First of all, the most obvious part of a flowering plant to look at is the flower, itself. And lily flowers are pretty AND pretty cool. Lilies seem to follow a natural rule that flower parts be found in numbers of threes and sixes.
They have six tepals, that may be form a trumpet shape, may unfurl straight out or may curl back on themselves. Tepal is a term used when petals and sepals look so much alike and serve such a similar structure that they are difficult to distinguish and, therefore, are classified as tepals. Looking at the flower of the Atamasco Lily, we can see the six tepals.
Next, following the “rule of 3s and 6s”, let’s look at the stamen (the male structure of the flower that holds the pollen rich anther). We can easily see six stamens popping from the middle of the flower. We can also see stigma, the female part of the plant that is fertilized by pollen. We notice the stamen is separating into three parts.
Furthermore, lilies have scaled bulbs and parallel veins on their leaves. Each of these characteristics allow us to identify this plant as a wonderful member of the lily family Liliaceae.
Atamasco Lily (Zephyranthes atamasca)… what’s in a name? Far more than you’d ever imagine. The genus name is a direct reference to the Greek god Zephyrus, who awoke nature with his warm and gentle west wind each spring. He was married to Chloris, a great goddess of flowers, whose dominion is given a nod in “anthes” (a female persona of flower). Recalling we gave this flower a description as a harbinger of spring, as it is one of the first to announce the impending arrival of warmth and growth, it is doubtful that any other genus name could serve such a plant nearly as well.
The species name is taken from a Native American word meaning “tinged reddish”. The Pawhatan word translates directly to “stained red”, giving lovers of this flower the understanding that the pure white seen early in spring will turn deep pink as the blooms age and wilt. In the photo of the cluster of wilting flowers, the staining of red on the flowers is clear and gives us a sense of how well this plant was named!
In most years, the timeframe for blooming is March to May. But, in good years, you can sometimes find blooms that persist until very early June. Because this flower blooms so wonderfully during late March to mid-April, one of the colloquial names for it is Easter Lily. Many southerners see these lilies as more than just a cue for spring to march in. Renewal, rejuvenation and joy are just a few of the local beliefs ascribed to the freshness of the flower and the season they herald.
Rich soils that have the ability to retain moisture are important to this plant, as are days of dappled shade punctuated by a couple of hours of direct sun. When these lilies finish their flowering period and begin going into dormancy in late summer/early fall, they are perfectly able to be transplanted to other, well-suited areas.
Finally, this plant can be found from Maryland to Florida and westward, along the gulf coast, to Mississippi. In the Carolinas, it is most commonly found in areas of the piedmont (“foot of the mountains”).
Next year, as winter’s hold begins to shake and the Red Maples are well into flowering; should you find yourself in places where Atamasco Lilies bloom, look for the brilliant glow of the pure, white flowers of this plant. Then, find yourself soaking up the beauty of this Zephyrus lily that will be stained pink later in its short blooming window.
Jugs and Gingers
You’ll notice one of the common themes at Harmony Hill is “connection”. This theme frequently pops up in our nature notes stories and it dominates our daily approaches to managing everything from the garden to the forest. Whether it’s the deep connection we have with the land or the connections between species on the landscape here, we celebrate these connections. This week, we would like to share a beautiful plant at Harmony Hill and a connection or two it has with the rest of the landscape.
As is the case in so many places, springtime brings a flurry of activity to Harmony Hill. Our ears are treated to dawn choruses, as mornings greet us to increasing numbers of avian migrants singing and calling. Our eyes are given a feast of colors and shapes in wildflowers dotting the hills and fields. We start looking up at the brand-new spring greens of leaves unfurling against the bule sky above. Even with our attention being dedicated to the yellows, reds, blues and purples of wildflowers along the fields, hillsides and forests, there are other beautiful flowers blooming where we don’t normally look.
Hidden beneath the leaf litter that covers much of the forest floor, there are surprisingly lovely flowers that many walk past and never see. For some of those who do, they may not immediately know what they’re looking at are, in fact, flowers. While the leaves are easy to spot and get most of the attention of the plant, there often lie flowers on the ground below those heart or arrow-shaped leaved. Let’s look at one of the plants often referred to as Little Brown Jug and Wild Ginger.
In the south, Little Brown Jug is a name given to a whole laundry list of flowers in the Asarum and Hexastylis genera. Looking at the flowers in this week’s photos, it isn’t hard to understand where that common name comes from. The flowers look of this species certainly look like tiny, ornate jugs lying on the ground.
Hexastylis heterophylla is a plant found in the piedmont and mountain regions of SC and has a range that extends northward to West Virginia and Kentucky and westward to Alabama. It can often be found on moist hillsides in SC, particularly steep hillsides. Sure enough, that’s where we found the plants in the photos. It tends to prefer moist soils, like the mesic soils on the slope where these plants grow. But it isn’t out of the question to find it in drier areas.
Hexastylis is a genus name that refers to the six (hexa) stigmas (styles) typiccaly exhibited on plants in this genus. And, that species name of heterophylla, is about as good a species name for this plant as could’ve been given. “Hetero” means different and “phylla” means leaves. The variety of colors and even shapes found in both the leaves AND the flowers of this particular Little Brown Jug is impressive. (And, occasionally frustrating!) Leaves can be completely green or heavily variegated, as seen in the photos. The flowers can also be tan, pink or mauve. They can also be all the same color or have speckled patterns.
The common names for this plant are as descriptive and appropriate. With some calling this plant Variable-leafed Ginger, Variable Heart-leafed Ginger and Variable Little Brown Jug, you can see how each are as correct as the next.
Wild Gingers are usually in the Asarum genus. But Hexastylis is genus pulled and separated from Asarum. The leaves of each genera look incredibly similar, and the flowers are astonishing in their similarity. However, there appears to be a separation in how the flowers of the two are pollinated!
It was once believed that flies pollinated the flowers of Asarum, with some biology professors still teaching their students that wild gingers are always pollinated by flies. But, dear reader, Harmony Hill is here to set the record straight! Asarum genus wild gingers in the eastern US all self-pollinating plants, with no insect interaction needed or observed. (There are western species of Asarum that are pollinated by gnats and, on occasion, flies. Asarum hartwegii emits a slight malodor to attract insects. That odor is absent from eastern species and insects are not necessary for pollination.) This is an instance of the flowers looking as though they should be pollinated by insects, such as flies; but, form doesn’t always equal function. Or the function humans think should be assigned.
What about our friends in the Hexastylis genus, like our friend heterophylla? Well, it appears they are pollinated by a variety of small insects, like gnats, flies and even ants that wander into the flowers. But the pollination seems to occur inside the same flower and there aren’t many cross-pollinating events at all.
Here, we see the connection this plant has with relatives and with insects found at Harmony Hill. But there’s one more connection we’ve saved until the very end. Hexastylis heterophylla is quite often found in conjunction with Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia). The same shaded slopes that provide shelter, lower temperatures and moist soils Mountain Laurel prefers also provide microclimates that support the development and growth of Variable-leafed Ginger. They aren’t always found together; but, when we see one species in the forest, we keep our eyes open for the other. We also look for native Rhododendron when we see these plants.
We’ve had a discussion about a species of native Rhododendron already, and we’ll take a closer look at Mountain Laurel and another Rhododendron in a future conversation…
Pretty Pastels of Spring
In the early spring days of the piedmont of South Carolina, there are two beautiful flowers that punctuate the woodlands and add striking colors to the spring green palettes of new leaves. Beginning in late February, small yellow trumpet flowers begin dotting the forest and are quickly seen all over fields, edges and open wooded areas. At Harmony Hill, those open wooded areas can be both upland pine stands and open hardwood forests near Beaver Creek.
A vine capable of climbing to great heights, Yellow Jessamine (Gelsemium sempervirens) has vibrant, canary yellow trumpet flowers and simple, evergreen leaves. I’ve heard this plant called “Poor Man’s Rope”, as well as “Evening Trumpet Vine”. And, while it’s not uncommon to see it spelled “Jasmine” and even referred to as “Carolina Jasmine”, the most accepted spelling (and pronunciation) is Jessamine. Sometimes confused with Japanese Honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica), Yellow Jessamine is a native plant that ranges from Virginia down to Florida, and westward to Texas.
Let’s take a quick look at that scientific name. The genus name of Gelsemium is a variant of the Italian word for Jasmine (gelsomino). And the species name, sempervirens, means evergreen (literally, “always living/green”). We see that same species name in the scientific name for the Coastal Redwoods in California (Sequoia sempervirens).
The state flower of South Carolina, EVERY SINGLE PART OF THIS PLANT is poisonous to humans and is even avoided by many animals. The stem, the flowers, the nectar, the leaves and even the roots are poisonous. In fact, even honey from the nectar of Yellow Jessamine. Livestock can be harmed by ingesting high levels of this plant and that nectar we mentioned can also be toxic to insects that ingest too much. (Side note… I once got in trouble in elementary school when the teacher asked what the state flower of SC was and I joked, “Adluh!” State Flour/State Flower)
Also, during my time as a wildland firefighter, I saw the flammability of this plant. Whenever flames get near Yellow Jessamine, the intensity of the fire increases and will climb the vine pretty quickly.
Just a few weeks after Yellow Jessamine begins blooming, another native, gorgeous and poisonous plant begins painting the woods with pinks that are a sure sign of warmer and longer days. Piedmont Azalea (Rhododendron canescens) is known by a laundry list of common names. Mountain Azalea, Pinxterflower, Wild Azalea, Wild Rhododendron, and on, and on and on… I’ve heard this plant called dozens and dozens of different names, but the scientific name is still the same.
Rhododendron means “rose tree” and canescens means “hoary” (or silver, gray). This lovely shrub is in the Heath family (Ericaceae).
Like the Yellow Jessamine, Piedmont Azalea loves partial shade, with lots of sunlight, and a variety of acidic soils. And, like Yellow Jessamine, this native azalea is quite poisonous. Despite not being related to Yellow Jessamine (which is a vine in the Logania Family) one of the azalea’s common names is, in another cool connection, Bush Honeysuckle. (Again, neither of our plants in this installment is a honeysuckle.)
As was the case with our first focus plant, all parts of Piedmont Azalea are poisonous to both man and beast. This is in NO WAY meant to keep anyone from admiring these lovely native plants. Nor is it intended to cause anyone from encouraging these showy plants on the landscape. It is just to point at a very effective evolutionary means to deter foraging by herbivores that could eat (and kill) these two species. Poisons are simply a means to keep a species from being eaten, that’s all. It is nature providing a protection and allowing a species to grow, mature and reproduce. (Whether plant or animal)
There is a pocket of the rare May White Azalea (Rhododendron eastmanii) hidden on Harmony Hill. Originally thought to be Alabama Azalea (Rhododendron alabamense), the bloom time is completely different from Alabama Azalea. May White Azalea blooms a full moth after Alabama Azalea. True to its name, this diminutive white azalea flower blooms in May, while Alabama Azalea blooms in late March and April. We will most definitely spotlight that species when it blooms later this spring. I, for one, cannot wait to see those delicate while azalea blooms opening over Harmony Hill.
More than any levels of plant toxicity, what we should focus on is the early season beauty these plants bring to the lower piedmont of Harmony Hill. We should always be sure to delight in the bright colors they bring to a land just beginning to awaken from a long winter’s nap. And, as Robin and Bethany did in early April, be sure to allow our eyes to steer toward the way these flowers grab the sunlight and transform it into optical magic… to stop in our tracks and appreciate the vivid hues on display as spring takes hold.
Feathery Seeds
On a lovely early-February afternoon, I received a text from both Sunshine and Lisa concerning some seed pods on a vine they’d discovered while on a walk. The seeds from the pods floated out on white, fuzzy and even fluffy structures. That “fluff” is extraordinarily effective at allowing the seeds to disperse on the wind, and the technical term for it is “coma”. So effective is this coma that, when the winds and humidity are right, milkweed seeds are capable of dispersing several miles from the plant from which they originate.
In our visits, we never just leave it at that, now do we?! Of course not! We must look at what plant those seeds and seed pods belong to. We must look into where that plant fits into the landscape and what connections it has to other species found on Harmony Hill.
Those seeds, floating ever so gracefully on the wind, belong to a plant with gracious plenty common names! Referred to as Honeyvine, Milkweed Vine, Blue Vine and Climbing Milkweed among other names, it has just one scientific name: (Cynanchum laeve).
Found from New York to Florida along the east coast, its range stretches as far west as Nebraska and down to Texas. Some populations are found in limited areas of Idaho, but it’s believed by some that those populations were introduced. The scientific name means “smooth (or light) dog choker”. WHAT?!?!? What does a vine in the milkweed family have to do with choking a dog? Well, this vine can tightly wind around everything from trees and fenceposts to utility piles and wire. In fact, it can wrap so well, it could hypothetically “choke a dog”.
Belonging to the Asclepiadaceae Family, this vine brings us back to a name we discussed a couple of weeks ago when we visited the snakes of Harmony Hill. If you’ll recall, we discussed Asclepius, snakes and how they relate to the American Medical Association symbol. Well, here we are, connecting milkweeds to snakes with our old friend, Asclepius. Milkweeds have long been used for myriad medicinal uses, being used directly or added to tinctures to treat pleurisy, coughs, blood ailments, rashes, sore throat and even to stimulate milk production in mothers. (The efficacy of some of these treatments can be debated.) With such a wide medicinal use, is it any wonder this plant has been linked to our friend, Asclepius the healer?
Like other members of the family, this vine is used as a larval food source for the caterpillars of Monarch Butterflies (Danaus plexippus). And, as a member of the milkweed family, it has become an important component on the landscape to help out the falling populations of this incredible butterfly. Milkweed Vine doesn’t have the prominent milky sap often found in its more traditional relatives. But that doesn’t make it any less sappy. In fact, recent studies have shown Milkweed Vine to be used by Monarch caterpillars more often than previously thought. It is also a larval food source for the caterpillars of the Milkweed Tussock Moth (Euchaetes egle). However, the caterpillars of the Monarch Butterfly prefer fresh, new growth on milkweed plants. Meanwhile, the caterpillars of the Milkweed Tussock Moth prefer to munch on older growth of milkweed plants. This difference in preferences of food means the two species don’t compete against one another!
(We will encounter Tussock Moth caterpillars as the spring and summer progress, so I will save a longer look into the story behind them for a future installment. However, I will say this in our current conversation… Don’t touch Tussock Moth caterpillars! They can sting you with their stinging hairs! Take a look at the fuzzy caterpillar in the image below to see what to avoid.)
Unless this plant is growing in an area near livestock, I always recommend leaving to grow and thrive.
About that… in large doses, this plant can be toxic to cattle, horses and humans. With that in mind, I ask that you be mindful to keep it from growing near the horses at Harmony Hill. Now, it would have to grow densely, and the horses would have to eat a good bit of this plant for it to have an adverse effect. But I think it’s always best to keep potential harm away as a precaution. Also, this vine can sprout from portions of roots left in the ground after pulling, making it difficult to remove from an area without chemicals.
The toxin in the plant that makes it harmful is the PRECISE REASON Monarch caterpillars and Milkweed Tussock Moth caterpillars use milkweeds as their larval food source. They are able to process and store the toxin, primarily a type of cardiac glycoside, to make predators sick. (And, if enough is ingested, die.) It’s a terrific deterrent to predation and both the butterfly and the moth advertise this danger in their bright colors.
In the spring, this perennial vine will sprout and begin growing up any structure it is near. As all vines do, it will climb in search of life-giving sunshine, as it develops its dark green leaves that are a blend of heart and triangular in shape. The stem will be mostly green, but often has a slight reddish hue. While it can be mostly smooth in texture, it may also have a slight pubescence, these small hairs can often be overlooked, but are tiny and white when present. The flowers will develop fairly quickly in the spring and they look quite similar to the flowers found on other milkweeds. Not long after pollination, the seed pods will begin developing. This is usually in the early part of the summer in South Carolina.
After the seeds mature, the pods will begin drying out and will open. Upon opening, the process of seeding will again start on Harmony Hill, with the seeds taking to the air and riding the winds to find a new place to plant themselves. They are able to germinate in almost any soil type and can do well in almost any moisture level. The seeds begin sprouting quite early in the year, when the temperatures begin warming and the sun shines a little longer; which, in South Carolina could be mid-February.
There are a couple of vines that resemble Milkweed Vine, with one vine, Black Swallowwort (Vincetoxicum nigrum) being an introduced species. But, I hope that plant has not made its way to Harmony Hill yet!