Trillium Ready

This picture shows the condition of our Trillium bed in May of this year.  I would be ashamed to reveal just how many purchased plants have been transplanted here over several years.  Authors frequently describe seven years as the time required to see flowers from plants grown from seed.  It can be nearly that long for transplants to settle in to a new home.  Add to that the impacts of our totally at home deer herd to explain this less than spectacular display.  Our weather was less than favorable as was also seen by the poor showing at the huge section of native plants growing as nature intended across the river.

 

This picture taken just this week shows that we are dedicated to growing native plants here.  The weeds that covered this bare summer ground have been carefully removed.  Dandelions predominated with occasional clumps of a tall thin grass.  That low stone to the right served as a seat from which to work.  My trip down was far less than graceful but getting back up was nearly impossible.  Must remember to have the four tined spade close at hand.  With the weeds removed past years bagged leaves were mower ground and sprinkled across the bed.  We have used ground leaves here every year to speed up the woodland soil building process.  Now we need to sprinkle some lime pellets then replace the wire cages.  Then we will wait for May's arrival to see just how many Trilliums appear here.
 

Umbrellas In The Woods

We have  huge patch of Mayapples growing in our woods.  To date we have made no attempt to move any of them to our shade garden near the road.  The problem is with their growth habit that I have only read about.  Apparently all of these plants are connected by shallow roots that serve to transport nourishment harvested by a single deep root.  Without that tap root any transplant will perish.  We have encountered that problem with other native plants.  Wintergreen is just such a plant.  Written words describe a method for its successful transplantation.  One must expose the runner root just under the soil surface and sever it on both sides of the desired plant.  A marking flag attached to a wire will aid in finding the chosen plant the following year when a deeper root may have formed.

This newly opened flower caught my eye.  Having no idea of just what the name of this plant is, we will wait for Becky's return from her visit to New Paltz to identify this plant.   Without anything other than a quick look at the photo, Becky identified this as a Red elderberry and reported that the deer feed on this plant unmercifully.  We will soon return to see just how these flowers present themselves.

Just how plants are named is a subject rarely encountered in books.  Trout lily is the only plant where the naming process is known here.  In one of his many essays, John Burroughs describes his issue with two common names of a native treasure.  Dog's Tooth Violet or Adder's Tongue both seemed just wrong to him.  The flower in question is a lily as shown by its flower parts so identifying it as a violet would never do.  Any similarity to the interior of a snake's mouth seemed indefensible.  Burroughs suggested Trout Lily as a more appropriate name.

This pictured plant is frequently called Stinking Benjamin for reasons that remain unknown to me.  An unpleasant odor of the flower is possible but once again kneeling on the muddy ground to take a sniff did not seem wise to me today.  If a flower is seen higher up on the bank, a sniff test might be made.  That still leaves the connection to Benjamin unknown.  Wake Robin is another somewhat common name for this plant but it does not prompt a smile that frequently accompanies uttering "Stinking Benjamin".  

At a greater distance from the road, White trilliums cover the ground in impressive numbers.  These plants are just getting started opening their flowers so this picture showing mostly green will likely fail to excite anyone.  New posted signs have been placed so we remain on the public road.

 This is another photo that most people would see as little more than something green.  For reasons that remain elusive, Bloodroot grows only in one small piece of this wooded hillside.  Its flowers are always very short lived and harsh weather prevented the formation of any seed pods this year.  Since our visits to these woods have been nearly daily this year, the lack of seeds is an accurate observation.  At home our plants failed to open a single flower but some of the old seeds are pushing up new small leaves.  Fortunately we find that incredibly exciting.