It's Violet Time on the Riverbanks!

At first sight, this stretch of rocky riverbank doesn't look all that promising for a wildflower walk.  But my friends Sue (orange shirt) and Ruth and I knew there were many floral treasures growing here to show to our friends in the Thursday Naturalists when Sue leads them along this shore later this week.  We had come on a balmy Monday to make sure we could point out those treasures when we returned with our friends on Thursday.

For sure, not all those floral treasures were hidden!  Spectacular masses of Red Columbine were blazing away, sprung from cracks in the marble outcroppings that line this stretch of the Hudson and lit up by the sun like tiny Japanese lanterns.

 

Here's a closer look at the complex flowers of that Columbine (Aquilegia canadensis), one of our most spectacular native wildflowers, and one that is not at all rare.

My friends and I were here today to make sure we could locate one of the rarest flowers that thrives at this location, the New England Violet (Viola novae-anglieae). As far as is known to date, this violet grows nowhere else in New York State but along these northern riverbanks.   And yes, indeed, we did find some! At a glance, they may look just like the Common Blue Violets that grace every alleyway and unmowed lawn right now, but closer examination would reveal the most immediately telling feature of this species, the long tapered basal leaves (among other distinctive traits). We were quite happy to observe that the numbers of this truly rare violet had increased significantly since we first noticed them a few years ago.

We were also delighted to find a healthy number of another somewhat less-rare violet, the white-flowered  Primrose-leaved Violet (Viola primulifolia). This violet is rated as a Threatened species in our state, and other known populations have been reported only from locations quite far from this site.  It was quite a surprise to find it growing at this location when I first reported it here, back in 2016. Since this violet likes to grow way out in the cobble close to the shore, annual floods often diminish the numbers at any one previously known site only to distribute new plants a bit further downstream.  The most important feature for identifying this violet is the shape of its leaves, which resemble slightly those of a primrose plant.

A couple of other not-at-all-rare white violets were blooming now along the shore, the tinier of which has a truly appropriate new scientific name, Viola minuscula. Northern White Violet is one of its several vernacular names, but I want to call it Minuscule Violet to properly acknowledge how tiny it truly is.  Quite fragrant, too, which helps to distinguish it from other smallish white violets. (Previous scientific names include V. pallens and V. macloskeyi.) This little violet often grows in a spreading mass, but we found mostly occasional individual plants along the shore.

One other white violet was the Lance-leaved Violet (Viola lanceolata), and we found quite a few plants at various locations.  The lance-shaped leaves make this species easy to ID.

We could detect numerous Ovate-leaved Violets (Viola fimbriatula) at a glance, thanks to their vivid purple blooms.  The ample fuzziness of leaves and stems is one of the distinctive features of this lovely species, along with its oval-shaped leaves, as well as is its preference for dry, exposed sites like sandpits and riverside cobble.  For just a few years, this violet species was listed as a variety (ovata) of the Arrow-leaved Violet (V. sagittata), but a foremost violet expert named Harvey Ballard has returned it to the name I first learned it by, V. fimbriatula.  Another good vernacular name for this denizen of open, low-nutrient habitats is Sand Violet. 

Here was one violet I could not put a name to, neither vernacular nor scientific.  It had basal leaves only that were sharply pointed, hairless dark stems, and slender, pale flowers with no apparent hairs on the bottom petals, and noticeable veins on all petals.  Suggestions for ID would be most welcome.

Lots of violets, indeed!  But other lovely flowers caught our attention, too, including these sprawling low branches of Dwarf Sand Cherry (Prunus pumila var. depressa) wafting their beautiful fragrance on the breeze.  Although listed as a Threatened species in our state, it sure looked happy along these rocky shores, its desired riparian habitat.

With every spring visit to this site, I have always examined the glossy evergreen leaves of a large patch of Bearberry (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi) that sprawls amid the cobble here, searching and searching for its pretty pink-tipped white flowers.  In all the years I have looked for them, this is only the second time I have found this trailing sub-shrub in bloom, and what a bonanza of bloom we found today! One of many happy surprises that starred our visit to this amazing site, home to so many rare plants.

Here's one last beautiful flower we found on our visit today, a spreading patch of Fringed Polygala (Polygaloides paucifolia).  This native wildflower is not at all a rare plant, blooming abundantly in nearly every shady pinewoods I visit right now.  And sure enough, it wasn't until we left the sunbaked rock-strewn riverbank and climbed up into the densely shaded pine woods to make our way back to our cars that we found it.  And how could we miss these vividly colored little blooms? They reminded me of tiny pink-purple single-engine airplanes zooming across the forest floor. What a treat to end our adventure!

Trillium Season's Last Act

A Facebook friend's post alerted me that the Nodding Trilliums (Trillium cernuum) are now blooming along Bog Meadow Brook Nature Trail in Saratoga Springs.  What? Already?  The last of our trilliums to bloom around here?  It seems the "trillium season" just began a few days ago, although it was most likely more than six weeks ago I found the first Snow Trilliums emerging in the still-frigid woods of late March, followed a few weeks later by the Red Trilliums, then only a few days later the Large-flowered Whites.  And then, having just found some Painted Trilliums in full flower, I found it hard to believe the Nodding Trilliums were already blooming.  But seeing is believing, so off I went this week to see for myself.

As this photo displays, I sure couldn't see any trilliums at first sight, along this greening-up trail.

But Nodding Trilliums like to hide beneath all that trailside shrubbery. And sure enough, it didn't take more that a few yards along before my friend Sue spied the first one, well under the shrubs and about to be overtopped by Skunk Cabbage leaves.  If the bright-white flower had been hiding under its own leaves (as is its habit), I doubt we would have noticed it. Happily, this was the first of many we found in perfect bloom today.

Here's the typical posture for Nodding Trillium's flower.  Nodding, well beneath the leaves. Often, completely hidden.

The flower must be inverted to examine its intimate parts, noting its white ovary and dark purplish anthers held on longish filaments.  By contrast, the anthers of the Red Trillium (T. erectum) are pale, nearly white, and basically sessile to its ovary, which is dark red.  Both species of trillium grow along this trail, but the Red Trilliums usually fade before the Nodding Trilliums open their flower buds. Some overlap in bloom time does occur, however, which in some years results in some interesting hybrids. (See my post from 2019 when I first discovered some results of this gene-sharing between the two species.)

And sure enough, we found a trillium flower this day that looked as if it could be a hybrid, with nearly red petals but with a white ovary and non-sessile anthers borne on filaments. But the petals and sepals are not as retracted as would be more typical of a Nodding Trillium.  A real blend, it seems, of both species.

So beautiful! I'm surprised no horticulturalists have developed such a hybrid for the commercial market.

My Facebook friend had alerted me about finding this odd trillium, advising me that I would find it beneath where a flowering crabapple tree was in bloom. And that was exactly where my friend Sue found it.  And look!  The crabapple's pure-white flowers were streaked with dark pink!  Did that hybrid trillium growing beneath cast its magic spell on these flowers too? (Ha ha!)

As we continued our walk, I searched for -- and did find! -- this burgeoning cluster of Rose Twisted-stalk (Streptopus lanceolatus).  From above, one might never guess there were tiny pink flowers dangling beneath.

The pretty flowers are certainly worth crouching down low to see. I rarely find this plant in my other Saratoga County wanderings, so I'm awfully glad I know where to find it here (as well as just one other cluster some distance away along this same trail).  This species is much more common further north. (Cole's Woods in Glens Falls is a hotbed for them!)

There's one other flower I rarely encounter that grows along Bog Meadow Trail, and this was my lucky day!  The wee little blooms of Grove Sandwort (Moehringia lateriflora) were just beginning to spangle the trailside grasses with multiple blooms.  Although distribution maps indicate that this species is not the least bit rare in New York State, I hardly ever see it any place other than here. Such a cute little flower!

Here's a closer photo that better displays the fuzzy heart of the Grove Sandwort flower:

I was also really glad to see multitudinous developing leaves of Canada Lily (Lilium canadense) along this trail, and not yet find a single Scarlet Lily Beetle laying her eggs among them.  This gorgeous native wild lily used to abound along Bog Meadow Trail before that horrid bug started eating it down to the roots each summer. Is it possible that the beetle's larvae have eaten their fill at this location and moved on? Or that the natural control (a wasp) released some years ago has managed to put a stop to the beetle's depredations? Oh boy, do I hope so!

Aren't we lucky that no pests have developed a taste for either Dog Violet (Viola labradorica) or Wild Strawberry (Fragaria virginiana)?  Both native wildflowers were generously spreading their loveliness along the trail.

We saw only a single small plant of Red Baneberry (Actaea rubra) blooming today, but we walked less than half of the trail's two-mile length.  I imagine more are growing in the more forested stretches further along.

Since I usually associate Wild Ginger (Asarum canadense) with calcareous habitats, I have always been surprised to find ample patches of it growing along a limited stretch of the Bog Meadow Trail (which is actually more of a wooded wetland than an actual bog habitat).  And today I was doubly surprised, to see a Nodding Trillium finding a place among the ginger's big heart-shaped leaves. And look!  There's a vining stem of what looks like a young Glaucous Honeysuckle seeking some vertical object to climb on, off to the right.  Plus some sharply toothed Arrowwood leaves (top right) and a green-branched Field Horsetail stalk joining the wildflower party.

Too bad I didn't see this Northern Water Snake before I startled it off the path and into the trailside water. I know Sue was trying to get a photo of it curled in the grass (Sorry, Sue!) , and I was hoping to get a better look at the bulge in its length, perhaps its froggy lunch now being digested.

Rare Plants and Roadside Beauties

 For being just an amateur wildflower nut,  I feel I am one lucky nerd. In all my naive wanderings over the years, I have just by chance found so many rare plants that I've gained some genuine botanical experts as my friends.  And I am so grateful that they share some pretty exciting wildflower findings with me.  Not so long ago, I was told by one of my professional botanist friends that one really, really rare Shadblow species was about to bloom, and he even showed me exactly where to find it.  So of course, I went to look for it.  (Sorry, but the location remains a secret.)

At first, I thought I must be in the wrong place.  The shrub in question  -- called Nantucket Shadblow (Amelanchier nantucketensis) -- did not bear the bright-white flowers I associate with all other Shadblow species.  From a distance, it looked as if it might have already shed its blooms. Or have yet to open them.

But a closer look revealed that the shrub was indeed in bloom. The flowers were not exactly showy, with tiny spoon-shaped petals that were widely spaced around the sharply pointed green calyx lobes.  I was told that a very interesting feature of this species' petals is that the petals themselves occasionally bear pollen, a feature I myself could not detect.

Here's a different view of the flower. Perhaps that yellowish rim on some of the petals consists of pollen. As this photo reveals, this is certainly a very woolly species!

And the leaves are just as woolly as the calyx lobes.

From what I have read, the Nantucket Shadblow is a globally rare species, long thought to be found only in the Northeast Atlantic coastal areas from Virginia to Nova Scotia. But subsequent populations have been found in drier, more inland locations.  And the location where this patch is growing in northern New York State is far, far away from the coast!

That Nantucket Shadblow was not the only super-rare flower I visited this day.  In fact, not very far from the shadblow's site was a large marble outcropping studded with one of New York State's rarest flowers, the New England Violet (Viola novae-angliae), known to grow in only one very limited location in all the state. To judge from how these deep-purple flowers sprout up from cracks in the rock that are completely exposed to the elements, being rare doesn't necessarily mean fragile.

This little cluster of flowers and leaves reveals several of the New England Violet's distinguishing features. The most notable one is the long, narrow, tapering shape of the leaves, which are basal, not stem leaves.  The vivid purple flowers are noticeably hairy, and not just in the throat, but also with occasional hairs sprouting from the petals themselves. (Click this photo to enlarge it, and the hairs will be more evident.)

The stems of both leaves and flowers are also remarkably hairy, as this photo reveals.

Once I had feasted my eyes on these beautiful violets, I looked around this rocky site and found many other interesting plants.  In just a day or so, this cascading cluster of Eastern Red Columbine leaves  (Aqualegia canadensis) will feature gorgeous scarlet flowers dangling from the stems.

Sheltering beneath an overhanging rock ledge was this lovely cluster of dainty ferns. I believe they are Fragile Fern (Cystopteris fragilis), a species of fern known to grow directly from rocks.

Here was another rock-lover, Early Saxifrage (Micranthes virginiensis), remarkable for growing all by itself at this site, instead of in a spreading mass, and for sheltering beneath an overhanging rock instead of atop it.

Sated at last by observing those rare species to my heart's content, I found my way back to where I had parked my car along the road. As I ambled, I enjoyed the sheer beauty of the more commonly found native wildflowers that spread across the roadside banks.  Here, masses of bright-yellow Barren Strawberry flowers (Waldsteinia fragarioides) share the top of a rise with a scattering of tiny baby-blue Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea).

Here's a closer look at those pretty Barren Strawberry flowers . . .

. . . and the sweet little Azure Bluets, holding their dainty faces toward the sky, as if to reflect that azure radiance,

More violets!  Masses of them!  The pale-purple Dog Violet (Viola labradorica) is indeed a generous spreader, and who would resent such pretty flowers from taking up all the space they want along a dusty roadside?

The Dog Violet shares its flower stems with its leaves, and each leaf node is wrapped in a sharply toothed stipule.  I look for those sharp teeth to remind me of this small native violet's name: sharp teeth = canines = dog!  The older I get, the more I need such mnemonics!

It's easy to remember this frothy flower's name:  Foamflower (Tiarella stolonifera).

So, what is there about this Two-leaved Toothwort (Cardamine diphylla) to help me remember its name?  Both the vernacular and the scientific names remind me it has two three-parted leaves, but I wonder where the "tooth" part came from.  A quick Google query brought me this:  "Toothwort gets its name from the tooth-like projections that grow on the underground stems and rhizomes of the plant. These projections are actually leaf scars from the previous season's growth. The common name also refers to the shape of the roots, which are long, white, and pointy."  Well, that may be so, but I'm not going to dig up such a pretty flower to examine its long, white, and pointy roots. Maybe I'll just notice its toothed leaves.

Can we call this grassy plant a wildflower? Yes, we can -- in Latin, anyway. In fact, that way we can call it MULTIflowered! For this pretty plant is the Luzula multiflora, and it does bear clusters of multiple flowers . It is also known more mundanely as Common Woodrush.  But I like to look at its six-parted flowers bearing stamens and pistils and be reminded of lilies. This was just one of the many beauties that delighted me today, from the rarest to the most common!

Roadside Rock Garden Re-blooms!

Still suffering the remnants of a lingering cold and also a bit weary from overexertion on previous days, I was planning to lie low today, resting my weary bones on the couch, a cat close at hand (if he so deigned).  But a Facebook Memory showed up on my timeline, displaying the most glorious explosion of Early Saxifrage on the cliffs along Spier Falls Road on this date just a year ago.  Oh man, I can't miss this! And those cliffs are just an easy drive away!  Gotta GO! 

And I am so glad I did!  Singly, the flower of Early Saxifrage (Micranthes virginiensis) is hardly showy, just a wee little thing, plain white.  But when they bloom together by the thousands, they do put on quite a splendid show.

I was a bit worried about what I'd find, remembering how road crews had scraped the roadside rocks bare of all vegetation last summer.  And yes, as I approached the cliffs across from the Spier Falls Dam, I could see how many of the rocks closest to the road still bore the scars of that abuse. But masses of white flowers still persisted where they grew beyond reach of the scrapers.

High up on the craggy ledges, clouds of white looked like drifting mist against the dark spring-watered rocks, the flowers sprouting in masses out of velvety clumps of bright-green moss.

White disks of rock-clinging lichens echoed the white of the flowers.

Closer to the edge of the road, I could better admire the daintiness of the blooms.

This pair of blooms had found the perfect foil to show off their beauty: a wall of dark rock behind, a cushion of emerald green moss at their feet.

The flowers certainly do prefer to grow from cushions of moss. The moss holds the dampness from constantly dripping springs, providing a constant source of moisture and soil atop rocks that would  otherwise be exposed and bare. The various textures and colors of the mosses indicate more than one species thrives here.  I know that much of this clump is made up of a moss that craves constant wetting.  Spring Apple Moss is its name (Philonotis fontana), the "spring" part of its name indicating its preferred habitat, and the "apple" part suggested by the small round apple shape of its spore capsules.

Here's another lovely mix of mosses, a fine-leaved species called Common Apple Moss (Bartramia pomiformis), and a larger-leaved species called Marsh Cardinal Moss (Ptychostomum pseudotriquetrum).

I was surprised to find one of the apple-shaped spore capsules still persisting within the tangled leaves of the Common Apple Moss.

On my way home, I stopped off at a splashing spring to sip from its clear cold water and was delighted to see many clumps of this charming little flower called Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) blooming in the sunlit patches nearby.

A small, white-blossomed tree hung its branches over a bank, so I could detect the reddish bark, the flower clusters marching in a row along the twigs, and each twig sporting a terminal cluster of tapering serrated leaves, all features that distinguish the species called Fire Cherry (Prunus pensylvanica).

I climbed just a bit up a trail to visit a patch of Foamflower (Tiarella stolonifera) that I knew to grow there. I will be sure to return in a few days to see how these opening buds have yielded the lacy, lovely white flowers of this native wildflower. The leaves, emerald green marked with reddish mottling, were already as lovely as they will be.

(Here's what this Foamflower patch will look like when in full bloom: photo below.  Certainly worth the return to witness such starry beauty!)

Just across the road, a well-trodden path led down through a woods toward the banks of the Hudson River.  That Facebook Memory from a year ago had indicated I might find some Painted Trilliums (Trillium undulatum) blooming there now.  And wouldn't you know?  This was my lucky day!