River Walk - Rue Anemone and More

When time springs forward each year in the heart of Carolina, the lost hour of sleep is immediately replaced by an "extra" hour of daylight. Hoot Owl Karma chose to spend that extra hour today in search of another early blooming wildflower, the rue anemone. Upon entering the woods in a likely spot beside a meandering woodland stream, the quester was greeted by a strident chorus of frogs arrayed along the margins of the deeper pools. While hundreds of voices were involved in the performance, a single diminutive northern cricket frog was the only visual evidence of amphibians to be found.

Just a few yards up the hillside, this brown-skinned basker seemed determined to make the most of its extra hour of sunlight as well. Carolina anole may soon take on its cloak of green, but for today, brown was definitely the color of choice.

While scanning the bottomland for the telltale blossom of the anemone, the wanderer observed other signs of spring. Dozens of these striking stems dotted the floodplain along the stream, teasing the observer with just a hint of their true identity.  

A bit farther along, their intrigue abruptly ended when this complex matrix of 5 pronged leaves gracefully unfurled. The red buckeye would be well represented in these parts this year! 

Suddenly, and at last, the rue anemone! Invisible for a time in the sun-dappled expanse of browns and tans and faded browns on the forest floor, but glaringly obvious once the image of the first flits across the visual cortex of the seeker, several individuals now spring into view.

Judging from the small numbers and the early stage of the blossoms, we caught these lithe beauties just after their initial emergence. Whether blessing, good luck or karma, we're grateful for the cosmic juxtaposition which allowed us to complete our trifecta of hepatica, anemone and spring beauty with rather little effort on this gorgeous afternoon.

A parting look, then out of the woods for a while. We'll have to settle for the domesticated spring blossoms for a few days until we can slip away for another walk on the wild side.

More Winter Wildflowers - Spring Beauty and Marsh Marigold

*Karma Note... A helpful reader suggested that the "marsh marigold" pictured below was actually figwort or lesser celandine, an invasive non-native species which is often confused with marsh marigold, of all things. Duly noted, and such assistance is always welcome! (JR, 4/1/2013)

 

Winter's chilly grasp still asserts itself each evening here in the heart of Caroline, and the morning chill reminds us that Spring has not yet sprung. But a short meander off the beaten path reveals a couple of upstarts, determined to get a head start on their early spring rivals by braving the chilly air - Spring Beauty and Marsh Marigold. 

Spring beauty has many manifestations across our region, with these individuals a bit paler than many of their kin.

While these early bloomers often form impressive colonies, this tiny clump had staked its claim to a small patch of sunlight alongside a temporary stream filled by the recent heavy rains.

Not far away, at the junction with a larger creek, a pile of debris deposited in the floodplain by a larger rain event in the distant past gave shelter to a mass of bright green leaves belonging to this marsh marigold*.

These outliers were blooming even earlier than the rest of their clan; lending the otherwise lifeless marsh the green and gold hues of summer or early autumn.

This particularly bold blossom seemed determined to overshadow the discarded automobile tire inside of which she found herself contained. Faced with such a bold and valiant vanguard, can Spring herself be far behind?

More Early Bloomers - Hepatica (Liverwort)

As winter wanes and the weather warms, trout lilies aren't the only wildflowers worth watching. The distinctive three-lobed leaves of liverwort offer a clue to the keen observer that the early-blooming hepatica is here.

Sure enough, lovely lavendar-blue blossoms peer forth a few feet from last year's latent leaves. 

Nearby, another pair emerges. Hairy stalks and three-lobed leaf confirms the call, Hepatica americana,  round-lobed hepatica or liverwort. 

Not nearly as numerous as yesterday's trout lilies, but all the more appealing for their scarcity, these tiny towers arise from the monotony of the forest floor across a quarter acre or so of dry, rocky hillside.

Living amethysts scattered carelessly among the cast off leaves of summers past.

What meaning, this revelation? This tiny explosion of color from a bed of brown? 

Beauty in the eye of the beholder; Joy at witnessing another of life's little mysteries...

Oh, look! Those are a different color! I wonder...