Wingstem (Verbesina alternifolia) is now blooming in sunny woodlands in western Pennsylvania.
It’s easy to identify by its ragged yellow flowers whose central disk stands up and whose petals look as if they’ve been blown back by a strong wind.
Failing that, you’ll be able to identify it by the stem which has several “wings” or flanges that run its length.
Wing. Stem.
(photos by Kate St. John)
Here’s a closeup of another plant whose leaves bear tiny jewel-like drops, but they aren’t benign like jewelweed.
This is slender-leaved sundew (Drosera linearis), a member of the Drosera genus of carnivorous plants whose mucilage droplets attract, trap and digest insect prey. The drops are so sticky that insects can’t escape. The tentacles are so sensitive to touch that at the footfall of an insect they bend to entrap the victim. The insect dies within 15 minutes.
It seems ironic that the plant also produces flowers and holds them high to attract pollinators. Isn’t it counterproductive to eat the insects it depends on for pollination? But it doesn’t. The pollinators aren’t attracted to the droplets so they don’t get hurt.
When the flower blooms the plant looks like this.
Two species of sundews bloom in spaghum bogs in western Pennsylvania from June through August. The slender-leaved sundew is relatively rare. Round-leaved sundew (Drosera rotundifolia) is more common.
The flowers only open in strong sunlight. My favorite place to see them is at Spruce Flats bog at Laurel Summit State Park.
(photos by Dianne Machesney)
Tuesday dawned cool and clear with patchy morning fog and lots of dew. As I walked to work through Schenley Park I noticed that the jewelweed leaves were dripping with tiny round jewels.
Jewelweed gets its name from the way water beads up on top of the leaves but I’d never before seen jewels drip from the tips so I took a picture. Then I experimented.
What would happen if I touched a jewel?
It came off on my finger and stayed in its rounded jewel form. It wasn’t pure water. It didn’t roll off.
While I was experimenting with these tiny drops Art Schiavo, an avid birder from Hershey, PA, was thinking about jewelweed too (amazing coincidence!) and sent me this message:
“I’m sure you know that jewelweed is in the Impatiens Genus. I’m also fairly certain you know that its medicinal value is insect bite, stinging nettle exposure, and poison ivy relief, but did you know that the seeds are edible and taste similar to sunflower seeds?”
Wow. I had no idea you could eat the seeds. A little investigation uncovered this document that explains which parts of the plant are edible and how to cook them. There’s no need to cook the seeds but good luck catching them when the casing pops.
More experiments ahead!
(photos by Kate St. John)
The tall square hedge in this photo is the species that launched 17,000 complaints. It’s also been blamed for the decline of the house sparrow in the UK.
When a tree is implicated in the decline of a bird I’m compelled to find out why.
Leyland cypresses (Leylandii) are an accidental hybrid of Nootka and Monterey cypresses, both from the Pacific Northwest. They hybridized on their own in the Leighton Hall gardens in northern Wales and were discovered in 1888. The hybrid is sterile but can be propagated by cuttings. It became popular in UK landscaping because the foliage is so thick it provides privacy from neighbors.
Leylandii are huge trees that grow three feet per year and can reach 130 feet tall. However, they’re used as hedges and therein lies the problem.
When people planted them as cute little shrubs, they thought their Leylandii might look like this.
But this tidiness requires constant trimming. Without it the hedgerow turns into this…
…and can engulf nearby buildings.
For instance, Snarestone Pumping Station was visible from the road in 1994 before Leylandii were planted at the perimeter. By 2010 only the top of the smokestack can be seen above the trees. (Notice the little red car at the right side of the right hand photo. These trees are huge!)
Leylandii block views and create very dense shade. Neighbors ask owners to trim them. Then the fights begin.
By 2005 there were 17,000 disputes, prompting Parliament to pass an “anti-social” law to settle them. When neighbors object to Leylandii they must first try to settle the dispute privately. If this fails they can ask local Council to intervene and pay a fee to begin. Council can rule that the trees be trimmed to 2 meters (6 feet). Failure to comply can result in a £1000 fine.
Here’s an example of a dispute in Plymouth, complete with a video that shows the neighborhood. The trees completely obscure the owner’s house. Interestingly, the neighborhood has no other trees and no plantings for birds.
How do house sparrows figure into this? House sparrow population studies have shown they thrive where there are deciduous trees, not evergreens. House sparrows are declining in the U.K. Leylandii are oppressive evergreens. Voilà!
(photos from Wikimedia Commons. Click on the captions to see the originals)
I almost forgot the name of this plant when I found it blooming last weekend.
Despite the fact that the flower is not bell-shaped, this plant is called tall bellflower (Campanulastrum americanum). The flowers are a pretty shade of cornflower blue and have an ornate pistil arrangement that looks like a stripped down version of the purple passion flower, also known as maypops.
Here are side-by-side close-ups of maypops and tall bellflower so you can see what I mean.
The stems in the first photo are in an unusual arrangement. They’re bunched because a vine wrapped the three together. Click here for a more typical view.
(tall bellflower photos by Kate St. John. Maypops from this page at Wikimedia Commons)
Here’s an unusual look at blue vervain — a view from above at very close range.
Verbena hastata is one of my favorite flowers because of its color and size. The plant can grow five feet tall but its flowers are tiny, five-petaled and blue. They bloom in clusters that ring the flower spikes as they bloom from bottom to top.
Click here for a more typical view.
Blue vervain blooms from late June through September in western Pennsylvania. You’ll find lots of it at Jennings Prairie.
Visit the prairie with the Wissahickon Nature Club on Monday, July 29.
(photo by Kate St. John)
Close looks reveal new wonders.
Until recently I had no idea that metallic green bees existed. Then I saw one on a chicory flower in Schenley Park and that started the ball rolling.
Soon I found another one, this time on spotted knapweed on the Montour Run bike trail. She’s a beautiful green color with huge yellow pollen sacks on her legs. (I don’t know the sex of this bug; just guessing.)
My searches on the web indicate she’s one of 11 species of Agapostemon sweat bees, bugs of the western hemisphere. If I had known what to look for I could have used this guide at Discover Life to identify her species.
Though sweat bees are sometimes attracted to sweat, the bees I found were only interested in flowers, especially blue and violet flowers like spotted knapweed.
Spotted knapweed (Centaurea maculosa) has a pretty flower but it’s an invasive species that’s consumed 7 million acres of North America. It gains a foothold in disturbed soil, then spreads through high seed production, toxins in its roots that inhibit other plants, and an unpalatable taste that prevents deer and other animals from eating it (alas!).
It’s identified by its distinctive thistle-like flower head with black-fringed bracts.
Spotted knapweed is blooming everywhere right now.
Look closely and you might find a native metallic green bee taking a sip.
p.s. Check the comments for a link to a cool close-up by Mike Vosburg!
(photos by Kate St. John)
This summer I’m having fun taking a close-up look at nature.
Here’s a small, incredibly common flower that a lot of people can’t stand. Can you guess what it is?
Here are some interesting facts about it:
(photo by Kate St. John)
13 July 2013
This plant has a conspicuous name and inconspicuous flowers.
Enchanters’ Nightshade (Circaea lutetiana, ssp. canadensis) blooms in shady woodlands in June and July. Subspecies are native to Europe, north Africa, western Asia and eastern North America.
The plant’s common and scientific names both refer to magic though it’s hard to find out why. Some sources say Circe used this plant to turn Odysseus’ men into swine, thus the genus name Circaea. The species name lutetiana is the Latin name for Paris. Is this Paris the city? Or is it Paris of Troy who started the Trojan War that spawned Odysseus’ epic journey home? The sources don’t agree.
I like this plant’s open airy structure but that makes it hard to photograph. I spent a lot of time on my knees in Schenley Park and threw away a lot of bad pictures. Above is the best I could do.
To see the flowers, here’s a closeup from Wikimedia Commons taken by Randy Nonenmacher in Skaneateles, New York.
Notice how the flower stems turn down and the receptacles(*) are poised to become the seed pods. The flowers look so delicate.
Enchanting.
(whole-plant photo by Kate St. John. Close-up from Wikimedia Commons; click on the close-up to see the original image)
(*) Receptacles are defined in this diagram of a flower.
9 July 2013
Here’s a native flower so common in fields and waste places that you’d think it’s a weed.
Daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus) has white or pink-tinged flowers, 0.5 to 0.75 inches wide, 50-100 ray petals, and alternate leaves that do not clasp the stem. Philadelphia fleabane (Erigeron philadelphicus) has slightly larger, pinker flowers, 100-150 ray petals, and leaves that *do* clasp the stem.
Fleabane flowers respond to light. The white rays open and close at sunrise and sunset. Before they bloom they bow their heads. In the morning fleabane pulls up its flower heads and opens its white rays. This seems like a lot of exercise for a small flower but I imagine it’s meant to prevent nighttime pollination.
Fleabane got its name from the belief that the dried plant kills fleas. Bane comes from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning murderer or destroyer and is often used in plant names. For instance, “baneberry” means death-berry; it’s poisonous.
If wanted to kill fleas I could dry some fleabane. I wonder if it works …
(photo by Kate St. John)