Jack and I spent this past weekend in the North Carolina Mountains up towards Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. It was Jack’s annual indulgence in allowing me to spend hours crawling around on my knees, magnifying glass in hand wallowing in wildflowers. It was glorious! The flowers, for the most part, can speak for themselves. If you’re interested in reading more about these (and other wildflowers), check out my latest book A Naturalist’s Book of Wildflowers, available at numerous online sources. For a link, click on “Books” from the menu at the left. Enjoy.
Being typical Appalachia, there were many beautiful streams, each with their own unique flora.
Stream violets, with stems 6 – 10 inches tall were beautiful.
Bluets were growing on mossy rocks.
Brooks lettuce was growing right in the water. This is the only place I’ve seen it growing.
Trillium grandiflora covered acres of woodlands.
Painted trillium was not as abundant but individual flowers were stunning.
Toadshade has a peculiar odor, beloved by certain pollinators.
Purple trillium also has an unpleasant scent but a beautiful blossom!
Though it has leaves similar to the trillium, Jack in the Pulpit is a distinctly different wildflower.
Large-flowered bellwort has gorgeous yellow flowers that never quite open
Dwarf crested iris is a miniature version of our cultivated bearded irises – and a treat to see in nature.
Indian pink is not named for the color (obviously) but because the petal edges are notched or “pinked” as with pinking shears.
Though it was too early for Lady’s slippers, we did see this showy orchis, just beginning to open.
We only saw Trout Lily on one trail but it covered the hillsides.
Last fall, when the local chapter of Master Gardeners asked if I would do a zoom presentation from my garden in April to celebrate the publication of my new book, I was happy to comply. It sounded like a great thing to do. Since I’d be the one behind the camera, I could point it to the most beautiful of the flowers, easily skipping over the weeds, the unkempt and the unwanted. But then the world began to open up again and they asked it they could come in person. In two weeks. YIKES!
It’s like getting ready for my sixth grade piano recital, practicing for the school play and inviting my favorite teacher over for lunch, all rolled into one. These people are MASTER gardeners, there’s no cutting corners or bluffing my way through this one.
And so, I’ve been in a joyful frenzy. The first thing I did was to order 40 bales of pine straw. It’s not exactly like sweeping things under the rug but I have found that pine straw can cover a multitude of small sins in the garden. It shows intent, it delineates beds and paths and – most importantly of all – covers up weeds.
In a perfect world where I would be a perfect gardener, I’d fully weed an area before putting pine straw down but I’m on a tight schedule here, so it’s not exactly perfect gardening.
My next step was to go to the local nursery. Again, this is not how I usually garden but I needed color in a few dark corners so I bought whatever they had that was in bloom that would look as if it would settle in in a couple of weeks, and would look as if it belonged there. After all, I don’t want my garden to look staged, like I only stuck things in at the last minute. (hmmmmm)
The truth of the matter is, I’m way overreacting. My garden is a wild and exuberant display of spring perennials right now. Azaleas are heavily laden with pink and white blooms. Blue phlox is at its peak and looks stunning with the forget me nots and the pink violas that I planted last fall. The path to my studio is lined with simple English yellow primrose, Solomon’s seal are in full bloom and stand arching gracefully over a profusion of green and gold. Will it all last another two weeks? I really don’t know. A lot depends on the weather but then again everything in the garden depends on the weather. That’s what makes it so exciting. A garden is never “perfect” never at rest and never finished. Certainly Master Gardeners know this and I’m sure, don’t expect perfection.
But I want them to love my garden. They won’t love it as much as they love their own (or as much as I love my own), but I am sure that they will recognize my passion for these plants and my enthusiasm for digging in the dirt. There will be, I am sure, a lively exchange of information and ideas and the satisfaction of spending time with people who share love and passion for something. Especially a garden.
And, what could be better than having a whole flock of Master Gardeners doing a house call? Just think how much I’ll learn!
All to say, I’m still spreading all that pine straw! My Mama used to say that the best way to get a clean house was to invite company. That goes double for when you invite the Masters. Sadie and I are excited.
As we brace ourselves for the parade of jaw dropping spring beauty that has just begun in the South, it’s sometimes easy to experience sensory overdrive. Dogwoods, redbuds, and flowering cherry provide a lucious canopy for the shrubs below – mostly evergreen azaleas – whose branches are so packed with blossoms that they look like balls of brightly colored candy. The whole experience can be overwhelming for those of us passionate about and slightly obsessed with flowers. (Who me?)
I have nothing against the evergreen azaleas, I have a lot and keep adding to my collection. What could be better, really, than a shrub that provides evergreen leaves throughout the year, then graces us with startlingly beautiful blossoms for many weeks?
Flame azalea at an Atlanta neighborhood park.
Well…..for my own tastes, what could be better are the native azaleas which produce soft, gorgeous blossoms before the leaves come out allowing us to appreciate both the blossom, the new leaves and the lovely bare branches. Looking at this, you can breathe deeply and appreciate each perfectly formed flower.
A cultivar of Flame azalea
There are several natives that bloom this time of year, each with its own beauty and charm. The orange and sometimes red flame azalea, Rhododendron calendulaceum, is often found in our southern woods.
There are many natural varieties of flame azaleas, including “Hooper’s Bald” which grows profusely and happily on one of the open balds near Robbinsville, North Carolina.
Piedmont azalea, Rhododendron canescens has either pink or white flowers and is the most common of the seventeen different azalea species native to the Southeast.
The Piedmont azalea (above) differs from the similar Sweet azalea in that the tubes are pink but the stamen are mostly white.
Choosing the right site is imperative for successful growth and bloom. Native azaleas need about half sun / half shade to bloom well. They prefer acidic, well drained soils. After they have been planted, they need regular watering until they have become established, usually about two years.
Native azaleas (as a group) are considered Georgia’s state wildflower (the state bird is the brown thrasher and the state animal is the white tailed deer) and what a beautiful choice! With their delicate blossoms, and bright green new leaves, they usher in spring with a restrained but lovely grace and joy.
This spring my garden has been enhanced with the bright yellow blooms of the Celandine poppy. This is one of only two members of the Poppy family native to eastern North America (Bloodroot being the other). Celandine (Stylophorum diphyllum), sometimes called wood poppy, is a beautiful, showy wildflower that grows well in the semi-shady conditions of my back yard.
It is uncommon to find this in the wild and in Ontario it is considered an endangered species. But fortunately, it is easily cultivated and so far, it is a very satisfactory addition to the garden. I started it from bare roots (purchased at Gardens of the Blueridge Nursery last fall) and was delighted to see the bright green, attractive leaves unfurl early this spring. It only blooms for 2 – 3 weeks but it self sows and I’m hopeful that it will create gentle swaths of color without becoming aggressive.
Celandine poppy looks great with the profusion of small spring beauty flowers that bloom at the same time.
The seed pods are as interesting, though not as showy, as the blossom. They are fuzzy and hang from the petiole like a pendant. The sap is bright yellow orange and was used by Native American tribes as a dye. Take care, the sap will stain and possibly irritate your hands.
The common name, Celandine, comes from the plant’s similarity to the European plant Greater Celandine, Chelidonium majus. The two plants look very similar but the Greater Celandine is an aggressive grower and though not actually invasive, it should be maintained so that it does not push out other, more desirable natives.
Greater Celandine was used in medicinally for treating jaundice. This was based on the doctrine of signatures (or the Signature of All Things according to Elizabeth Gilbert) which was a European 17th century theory suggesting that whatever a plant physically resembled, it could be used to cure. For example the bright yellow sap of Greater Celandine was used to treat the yellow skin of jaundice.
Greater Celandine has smaller blossoms and a shiny, smooth seedpod. It is non-native and tends to be an aggressive grower.
Greater Celandine has a long history of use in folk medicine, with some pretty fantastic claims. For example, Albertus Magnus wrote in the thirteenth century, “if before named herb (Celandine) be put upon the head of a sick man, if he shall die, he shall sing anon with a loud voice, if not, he shall weep.”
Perhaps more useful for the lawyers in the family is the old superstition that says if you carry Celandine along with the heart of a mole, you will “vanquish your enemies and win your lawsuits!”
I am thrilled to say that my 26th published book is finally available for shipment. A Naturalist’s Book of Wildflowers: Celebrating 85 Native Plants of North America was published by Countryman Press in New York and is available in many independent bookstores found at Bookshop or major chains such as Amazon. Barnes and Noble
It will make a nice gift, I think, for wildflower enthusiasts. If you’d like an autographed, inscribed copy, you can contact me by email or by using the contact form listed on the sidebar.
This is probably my favorite of all the books I’ve published. (To see the other books, click on “Books” listed on the sidebar.) Not only was I able to do the research and writing, I also did all the illustrations. My idea was to have the book resemble my field journals, in which I take notes, make sketches and jot down ideas and information. The result, I think, is stunning. The publisher did an excellent job of transforming my mud-splattered, scribbled notes and sketches into a beautiful book showcasing America’s favorite wildflowers. And it feels good to hold in your hand. At 280 pages with 85 full page illustrations and hundreds of smaller sketches, it feels substantial. It’s available as an e-book too of course, but I do love the feel of a real book.
It’s been over 40 years since I wrote my first book, Wildflower Folklore, and surprisingly, much has happened during those decades. Perhaps there has never been greater interest in growing native plants and I included gardening information wherever possible and appropriate. There is a separate chapter dedicated to native plant gardening with information and suggested plantings for each region of the country.
Our native flora provides an invaluable contribution to our native fauna. For each plant entry, I described its role in the ecosystem – what pollinates it, what eats it, how it fits into the bigger picture. I also included information about its conservation status, as many of our native plant populations have diminished over the past decades.
Perhaps the most fun information is about the medicinal and cultural value of each plant. While few of our native wildflowers are of great economic value, many have been used by native peoples for medicine and magic. Some were used to make useful items such as baskets and string.
Camas: Camassia quash
Of course, kids were never far from my mind, so I included a chapter on Kids and Wildflowers and one on using the wildflowers in crafts and projects.
Wildflowers have been my love and passion for many decades and I’m so pleased to be able to share this through my writing and art. I hope that you enjoy it and that together we can continue to be good stewards of this precious land.
Laura
P.S. If you order the book and enjoy it, a review would be most appreciated!
Every winter when I look out at my garden, I am grateful for the huge clumps of Lenten rose, or Helleborus, that create islands of beauty in the midst of an otherwise sparse landscape. And every year my winter enthusiasm pales a bit by July when these same welcomed clumps seem to be pushing and shoving their way into every nook and cranny of my garden, crowding out other, more timid plants.
Lenten rose is anything but shy. Seemingly unfazed by nasty, cold, drizzly weather and short days of pale sun, this plant blooms profusely. The blossoms are nodding, with their stamen and pistils pointing toward the ground, which offers some protection from inclement weather and improves the chance of pollination. It is a welcome addition to the garden for bees busy pollinating early in the season.
The showiest parts of the flower are the petal-like sepals which come in a range of hues from greenish to pure white to light pink, mauve and deep pink. Lenten rose is a member of the Buttercup family and is a hybrid, developed by crossing Helleborus orientalis with a few other Helleborus species. Scientifically, it is known as Helleborus xhybrida. Don’t confuse it with Christmas rose, Helleborus niger, which is native to alpine regions of Europe and notoriously difficult to grow in Georgia.
Because it is a hybrid, plants that come from seeds will not look exactly like the parent plant, meaning that if you have a lot of Lenten roses, you’re going to probably have a lot of different colors.I love this mix of shades, though I think the pure white ones are probably my favorite. For whatever reason, I seem to have twice as many white blossoms this year as I did in years past.
Lenten rose is really, really easy to grow within its range (horticultural growing zones 5 – 9). I may have mentioned that it has become a bit aggressive in my garden. I like to consider myself an equal opportunity gardener and strive for diversity. It is a constant struggle, however, since some plants, such as the Lenten rose (and Arum, False Solomon’s seal, and Black-eyed Susans) want to take over my little world. I am forever digging up these wonderful plants to give away to friends and neighbors so that I can introduce new and different species into my garden.
But, it’s early March and all those “new and different species” are still just in my imagination. And the reality is, it warms my heart and makes me want to shout with joy when I see the Lenten rose pointing the way toward spring.
I come from a long line of artists. Both my parents were artists, as are all of my siblings. My grandmother, a woman of her times, took precious moments off from gardening, doing the laundry and feeding the farm hands to indulge in a bit of delicate china painting. I love to think of her, stealing the time to hold a tiny brush, instead of a pitchfork, painting on porcelain so delicate you could almost see through it.
My parents, Ken and Lois Coogle, in front of a mural of the Atlanta skyline that my mother painted.
After – school hours and summer vacations at my family home were all about art and crafts. From copper tooling to leather working, from painting to paper mâché, we were always doing something, piled around the round table in the sun – room to make and create.
It was a happy childhood and one that provided the foundation for both my hobbies and my career, though sometimes it’s a little difficult to tell the two apart. I have dabbled in a lot of different kinds of crafts and have used a multitude of different mediums. I love textile art and weave and quilt, I’m fairly passionate about my glue gun and I have painted with anything I can get my hands on, from dirt and flower petals to oils, from acrylics to natural dyes.
But by far my most favorite canvas is the garden. It is the keyboard waiting to be played, the white paper waiting for the paint, the chocolate chips and brown sugar begging to be made into cookies.
As I look at my garden now, toward the end of February, mostly what I see is potential. There are a few lonely clumps of hardy daffodils, bright green and shiny, and even a couple of intrepid early blossoms. Lenten rose is showing off, as she always does this time of year with an abundance of pink and white blossoms, and the evergreen ferns look staid and solid, though a little weather worn.
But mostly, it’s brown ground and bare branches and it reminds me of a quote from John Lennon who said, “Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.”
My imagination colors the reality of my winter garden with swoops and swaths of vibrant, fragrant blossoms, with backdrops of rich, dark green shrubs, with butterflies hovering, birds flying and everything healthy and abundant and vibrantly alive.
Of course the trick is in the manifestation of the vision. But if you can SEE it, you’re well on your way to making it happen. Just as I sit patiently, drawing and painting each stamen and pistil in my botanical art, I also have to dig deep in the garden and to plant, weed, water and love this day dream into existence.
But what a journey it is! and how lucky I am to have this canvas. To partner with nature and work hand in hand with the Great Creator is a blessing indeed. I can’t wait until spring!!!!
We rarely see rabbits anymore. Even though they are notoriously prolific, sometimes having as many as six litters in a single year, the rabbit population in our part of the world has steadily declined during the past couple of decades, primarily due to habitat loss.
Rabbits are fun and fascinating creatures. Our Eastern cottontail runs in a zig zag pattern when being chased and can run up to 18 miles an hour for at least a half mile. And his ears, acutely tuned to listen for predators, can swivel independently of one another.
So, just what is the difference between a rabbit and a hare? They are closely related but hares are larger and have bigger ears. The black tailed Jack rabbits found in the deserts of the Southwest have huge ears with visible networks of blood vessels. The ears help them cool off by dissipating the heat.
At the other extreme, the snowshoe hare has much smaller ears – but bigger feet. Stiff hairs cover the pads of the feet, essentially creating a snowshoe surface that makes it easier for them to travel quickly across the snow. These hares are rusty brown during the warm months but when daylight hours shorten, they begin to turn white except for the black tipped ears which remain dark.
Probably the cutest rabbit in the country is the pygmy rabbit, which weighs under one pound and is only 9 – 11 inches long. This is native to the Pacific Northwest and the Mountain west regions.
Rabbits have always been associated with luck, both good and bad. Carrying a rabbit foot was thought to bring good luck – unless you’re the rabbit. And, saying “rabbit” three times on the last day of the month is also thought to bring good luck. However, fishermen believe that if anyone mentions a rabbit, the day’s catch will be poor.
If you remember Beatrix Potter’s charming stories, you’ll remember that Peter Rabbit could just not stay away from Mr. McGregor’s garden. And, though he got away, he lost his shoes and his new blue coat in the process. I sort of envy Mr. McGregor. Even though I know I might lose a few carrots and lettuce leaves, I would welcome Peter and his friends back to my garden!
Several years ago my sister gave me a Hori-hori. That’s a good thing! Actually, it’s a very, very good thing. A Hori-hori, for the uninitiated, in spite of it’s kamikaze sounding name, is a Japanese digging knife that I now find essential in the garden.
This beast does it all. It can be used as a digging implement but also has a double sided blade which is great for cutting through stubbornly packed root systems. Some even have ruler measurements on the side which can be used to measure the depth of a hole or the distance between two seedling plantings. The bright blue tape is not decorative, but functional as it keeps me from losing the knife while I’m working with plants that have a tendency to swallow tools.
When you are digging up perennials such as day lilies or lenten rose or Solomon’s seal to divide and give to friends, this tool is irreplaceable.
Having the right tool, whatever kind of work you’re doing, makes all the difference in the world. My dad was a woodworker who sometimes made very large pieces (ask me some time about the 22 foot wooden screw that he spent 10 years making for a living museum in South Georgia!) As he aged and inevitably lost strength, he compensated by making and using more and more tools in ingenious ways.
Now, I’m trying to do the same in the garden. I’m trying to work smarter rather than harder and the right tools are helping me accomplish this goal. Another of my favorite garden tools is a digging fork, which I find much more useful for many tasks than a shovel or spade.
For the old standards, clippers, shears and pruning knives, I try to keep them as sharp as possible so that they require minimum effort to do the maximum amount of work. But of course my favorite, very favorite cutting tool is my beloved chain saw.
I only spend half my working hours in the garden. The other half I am either drawing and painting plants or writing about them and my indoor tools are as critically important as my outdoor tools. I am grateful for my computer (I actually wrote my first book on a type-writer, using corrective tape to delete! It made me much more careful to not make mistakes!) But my other indoor tools are even more ancient than a type-writer and are equally beloved. Give me a sharp pencil and a tiny brush, a palette of beautiful water colors and blank paper and I can happily stay busy and out of trouble for hours on end!
