By LESLIE BISHOP, guest columnist
The past month of stay-at-home orders has coincided with the emergence of spring.
Spring may arrive early or late, be unusually cold or warm, or produce bizarre hail or snow storms, but spring always comes in a predictable rhythm. Whether watching for the arrival of spring migrating birds, listening to the changing chorus of different frog species, or observing the sequence of wildflower blooms, we can expect the same patterns year after year.
This year, these patterns are especially reassuring amidst the uncertainty that the pandemic brings.
Daily I walk the woods with my dog, and daily I observe what new wildflower is blooming. For me, each discovery of new blooms is like greeting old friends; they welcome me with familiar faces year after year. And with these friends, there is no need for social distancing.
[sc:text-divider text-divider-title=”Story continues below gallery” ]These early bloomers, called spring ephemerals, will complete their entire life cycle in a short window of time between March and May. As sun lovers, they must complete their growth, flower, and reproduce before the forest canopy fills in with leaves. Thus, there is a very brief period for sun-loving woodland wildflowers to flourish.
For most spring ephemerals, even the foliage disappears by June. For the rest of the year, they will be dormant in the form of underground rhizomes, tubers, or bulbs. The growth of these structures will be triggered next spring by longer and warmer days. And once again, I can anticipate seeing my old friends.
Let me introduce you to some of my companions during this past month. The earliest to arrive on March 5 was Pepper and Salt, also called Harbinger of Spring (Erigenia bulbosa). These flowers are so tiny that they easily get lost among the leaf litter of the forest.
On March 12, Spring Beauties (Claytonia virginica) seem to have popped up everywhere. Their flowers are highly variable in color, ranging from all white to pink stripes. It is fun to watch the pollinator bees that visit these flowers and are powdered with pink pollen.
On March 19, Cutleaf Toothworts (Dentaria laciniata) with sharply toothed leaflets appear here and there and soon become abundant. The flowers sometimes nod like bells and other times reach for the sky.
On March 22, a small wetland near a forest seep is suddenly ablaze with yellow-petaled Marsh Marigolds (Caltha palustris). The shiny heart-shaped leaves provide a perfect backdrop to the bold, cheerful flowers.
On March 23, the distinct leaves of Rue Anemone (Anemonella thalictroides) alert me to watch for blooms. The bloom, with whorls of petals and stamens, resembles intertidal creatures.
On March 27, one of my favorites emerged. Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), with its showy eight white petals, bright yellow stamens, and distinct lobed leaf, begins its bloom with the leaf wrapped around the stem. The leaf unfurls as the flower develops. Hello, old friend!
On March 29, the first Trout Lily (Erythronium americanum) blooms with its speckled leaves and nodding yellow flowers. Its simple elegance could compete with the fanciest horticultural hybrid.
On March 30, my dearest and oldest friend, Dutchman’s Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) came early this year. With lacy leaves and petals fused into two spurs (resembling pantaloons hanging on a clothesline), Dutchman’s Breeches attract bumblebees who reach their long tongues into the flower to access the nectaries at the tip of the spur.
The first two weeks of April brought a whirlwind of delightful visitors: Wild Blue Phlox (Phlox divaricata), Purple Trillium (Trillium recurvatum), bright yellow Wood Poppies (Stylophorium diphyllum), and the first Jack-in-the-Pulpits (Arisaema triphyllium).
The rest of April and May will bring even more delight as I continue my daily ritual. I’ll watch for the first May Apples, Blue-eyed Mary, Fernleaf Phacelia and Solomon’s Seal to open, and I will be surprised by unexpected guests.
Staying at home through the pandemic has been challenging in many ways, but one of the most disconcerting effects for me has been the distortion of time. Schedules are disrupted, work becomes an isolated venture, and we stay in communication with friends and family through screens and voices. What day is it? What did I do yesterday? Days blur into days, and every day feels like Saturday. Time is both standing still and flying by.
What is keeping me grounded? My daily observations in the emerging spring. My gratitude for living in Brown County where the woods and birdsong constantly pull me back to the rhythms of nature. The constant reminders that everything changes.
Leslie Bishop is a Brown County resident and retired biology professor from Earlham College. She can be reached through the newspaper at [email protected].
