Skunked?

With a name like "Skunk Cabbage," one has to wonder how this Northwest native plant impressed early explorers like Lewis and Clark and David Douglas. Our local Native Americans were very familiar with it and at some point in the early 1900's it was exported to the U.K. where they actually cultivated the rogue cabbage! If our original residents knew about the vile smelling plant traveling across the ocean for aristocrat gardeners, they would probably be laughing their heads off.

      

Western Skunk Cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) is neither a cabbage nor is it suitable for a salad. But, as any local  grade school child can tell you, it is easy to identify and it does have a pungent odor. Hikers who venture out on a trail in a boggy area, are probably going to see Skunk Cabbage, with its giant leaves that look almost tropical. The exotic tall yellow "flowers" have an alien look compared to most other Northwest wildflowers. These big, bright yellow shoots resemble old time candle lamps; the plants are also called Swamp Lantern.

In fact, the plant's real flowers resemble tiny popcorn kernels and cover the spadix, the candle-like spire in the center of the big 6-8 inch yellow spathe that resembles a large spoon. When an entire colony of Skunk Cabbage is blooming, the yellow spathes make for quite the show! Of course the bloom also releases that namesake odor, making a show of another kind!

Tiny white flowers

As a member of the Araceae family, the musty, skunk-like odor does have a purpose: it keeps certain large animals away (such as deer and elk) and it attracts pollinators, who apparently relish the low brow smell. Here in western Oregon, they are in bloom now.

In the Eastern U.S., a similar but different and equally fascinating Eastern Skunk Cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) also grows in boggy areas and has a pungent odor when its purple-green flowers emerge from the ground in early spring. Only the flowers are visible at first, during the bloom. Later, the leaves emerge as the flowers die off. This oddball plant has Thermogenesis on its resume. Meaning, the plant can actually generate heat. It is thought that this helps get the tough flowers through the cold ground when emerging, as well as aiding in the odor spreading, once it blooms. The heat is generated by a process called "cellular respiration," a complex topic worthy of study for the serious botanist! Follow this link for a taste.

Eastern Skunk Cabbage. Photo courtesy Wikipedia*

Both the western and eastern versions of this cabbage were used by native peoples extensively. However, parts of each plant are highly toxic, so don't get skunked by the lore of beneficial properties. As always, we here at Wildflower Blog Central remind our readers to leave any plant where it is and take only photos!



*Photo: By Sue Sweeney. - The Monday Garden & Wikipedia.

Restless Native

This time of year, I am sometimes asked "what's the first wildflower to bloom around here?" In a way it is a bit of a trick question because the answer is variable, depending on where you live and at what elevation. Here in western Oregon, if you are in the valley, in a forest, and not near the ocean, the correct answer is probably the strikingly attractive Western Trillium (Trillium ovatum). This year we spotted them blooming on March 19th in the Jenkins Estate forest. The date seems to fall in line with the past four years we have posted on this blog, in spite of weather conditions.

Western Trillium with Sword Fern

In temperate regions of North America there are about 40 species of native trillium. Because they bloom in early spring, roughly at the same time as the American Robin appears, they are also called "wake-robin." Some species are endangered and in Oregon, Michigan, and Minnesota it is illegal to pick or otherwise destroy a native trillium. This is due to the fragile nature of the plant and its inability to reproduce once it has been disturbed. And as recently as 2013, a new species of yellow trillium was discovered and classified in eastern Tennessee, now called Trillium tennesseense.

Older bloom turning pinkish.

And speaking of reproduction, trillium are rhizome-based plants that spread underground given the right conditions (damp loose soil, forest floor, plenty of shade). Also, their seeds are captured and transported by hungry ants, back to the nest. Here the seed cover is eaten by ants and larvae, with the seeds left in the ground. Some will sprout, creating a new plant. The new plant can take up to a year to emerge from the soil. It is interesting to note that several other forest floor native plants spread by the ant transport method as well, including wild ginger, pacific bleeding hearts, and the curious inside-out flower.

Trillium Cluster

After pollination, some Trillium ovatum flower petals will change from white to pinkish-purple. The change in color is probably due to the plant producing anthrocyanins when stressed from cold, drought, or age. This color change (shown below) should not be confused with the Purple Trillium (Trillium erectum) species that blooms a dark purple flower and grows in the Northeastern U.S.

Aging Trillium ovatum coloration

To get more immersed in the trillium moment, plan a visit to the 37th annual Trillium Festival at Tryon Creek State Natural Area on April 1st and 2nd. Expand your backyard habitat by purchasing native plants at the festival as well.

Earplugs Anyone?

Crocus

Is it just me, or have you also noticed how just about every store you go to now has some kind of music playing - and usually the kind you don't much care for? We stopped in for lunch at Subway the other day and had to endure a loud pop music onslaught before getting our subs. Later at the Fred Meyer grocery store, it was country music, as if we had been magically transformed to the Pendleton Roundup. I stopped by Safeway to pick up some grits and the vocals once again interrupted my thoughts. I could go on listing others, but the question begs, "Why Music?" 

Daphne

My theory is that some expensive marketing study (no doubt sponsored by music supplier companies) has revealed that shoppers, especially younger ones, spend an extra minute or two in a store with music vs. no music. A short Internet search indeed reveals many articles that support my hunch. But most of them indicate that it's tricky - mainly because if your shoppers can't stand the particular type of music, it has a negative effect. Ah, the joys of capitalism. Don't get me wrong, I am fond of many types of music and do listen most days to something - I just don't like it to intrude into every aspect of my life, such as when I'm deciding what kind of cat litter to buy.

I complained to Kroger in an email and they replied with a carefully worded "sorry, but we won't budge on this one" message. After all, shouldn't shopping be as meaningful as your other important life events?! Well for me, this unending, audio overdose has the effect of making me want to get in and get out, as quickly as possible; or totally avoid going to a business. But I digress...

Primrose

Here in western Oregon we don't get snow and ice every winter; and I am truly thankful for that. This winter was different. We had multiple snow/ice events and now in late winter/early spring, the rains are setting records. On a positive note, it appears our frozen precipitation events are over. It will be interesting to see how this wettest-ever February and March affect the wildflowers and bloom calendar. 

And, of course, in our neck of the woods, the end of winter is noted by the arrival of Pacific Tree frogs, singing at night; and the silent but prolific Boxelder Bugs (Boisea trivittata) crawling out of their nooks around the outside of our house.

Camellia japonica

The crocus, daffodils, and the other non-native plants you see in the post are blooming so we'll be getting ready for our first wildflower trip soon. That will no doubt include mud boots, the weather-proof cameras, and plenty of hot coffee.

Boxelder bugs

The Annual Moss Edition - 2017

If you are a new reader of this blog you may wonder why we have a yearly post about moss. After all, some folks cringe at the sight of moss, especially when it seems to take over your roof, driveway, and lawn. But moss has many useful properties as well and is almost an art form in natural settings. Here in the Northwest, moss thrives in our mild, wet winter climate and western Oregon forests provide a perfect platform for moss. Historically, Native Americans used moss for insulation and to clean salmon among other things.

To lend a bit of perspective, there are over 12,000 species of moss in the plant division Bryophyta. They do not have flowers or seeds, which makes them a bit of an odd couple for a wildflower blog. On the other hand, the natural beauty of moss and lack of any other flower blooms in mid-February brings us back to why we have this annual post. Of course, moss grows all year, but in this neck of the woods, it always seems to be at its prime right now.


Last year's Moss Issue covered the current day use of moss as a bio-indicator. Several news outlets reported that toxic airborne chemicals were found in Portland, initially by its effects on moss. See that post for more details. This year, we'll "focus" a bit on the artistic side of moss as practiced in traditional Japanese gardens.

Traditional Japanese gardens almost always include some type of moss usage. The moss is meant to pay tribute to the natural world, in a stylized and artistic manner. Although the first use of moss for aesthetic purposes is not known, Japanese gardens have been documented as early as 710 AD in Nara, Japan. The overall design of any authentic Japanese Garden is influenced by Buddhist, Shinto, and Taoist philosophies in an effort to bring a a sense of peace, harmony, and tranquility. Here in our area, the Portland Japanese Garden is notable for its design of five distinct areas. Several of those have a wealth of moss, covering nearly every open space that is not planted.

On a recent visit to the garden, we observed the use of moss as a visual ground cover. Here are few views of the garden:

     

     

This year's gallery of moss in natural places has been gleaned from local nature walks in our area, including Noble Woods park, Cooper Mountain Nature park, Tualatin Hills Nature park, Henry Hagg lake, and our back yard. Our botanical knowledge is limited in the moss world, so these fine subjects in the photos will remain anonymous!

     

     

     

     

    

And last, but not least, when you are out for a walk in the park, it always pays to look for details, high and low. We recently found this tiny barn scene near ground level in an oak tree at Noble Woods park.

Links:

2016 Annual Moss Issue

Living with Mosses - OSU website

Portland Japanese Garden

Underdogs of the Understory

Jan. 12, 2017

Getting out an about on the trail this time of year in western Oregon is always more of a challenge due to low temps, short days, and the fog/rain/snow/ice that tend to linger around, reminding us of our 45 degrees north latitude and proximity to the ocean. But the worst winter in years and cabin fever has a way of motivating us to make the leap. Fortunately, by the time Groundhog Day rolls around, we are usually looking at the short end of winter around here, despite the whims of certain celebrity woodchuck rodents back east.

Conditions for getting out are improving but the storms of the past two months have taken a toll. Unfortunately, extensive tree damage from several ice storms is evident in most of our local natural areas. And the wetlands continue to be wet - as in under water!

Nevertheless, while out scouting the trails that are open, we managed to capture a few interesting images between coffee breaks and the yearly tax preparation panic. Mostly, we saw the fascinating "underdogs of the understory:" fungus, lichen, ferns, and moss. But these underdogs do offer interesting structures, shapes and colors to the casual observer, so I'm a fan indeed!

I'm no expert when it comes to these curious organisms, so exact identification may elude our wildflower hounds. Here's a sampling:

Gills on a football sized tree fungus.
Cooper Mountain Nature Park

Lipstick Cladonia lichen on a stump. Cooper
Mountain N.P.

Moss and Sword ferns at Tualatin Hills N.P.

Colorful fungus on a dead Pacific Madrone branch.
Cooper Mountain N.P.

Tiny silver cap mushrooms, about dime-sized.
Tualatin Hills N.P.

Oakmoss lichen and Beard lichen on an Oak tree.
Cooper Mountain N.P.

Turkey Tail fungus at Dairy Creek park

     

Beard Lichen on oaks (left) and moss and lichen on stump (right)

Cooper Mountain N.P.

Wild rose hips add a splash of color.

The good news is that our daylight is more than 30 minutes longer since the winter solstice; and our average daily high temperatures are on the upswing. But don't cancel your spring vacation to Mexico just yet - the rainy season may stay around, like crazed yellow jackets at your summer barbecue - the one you invited your boss and family to.

Zooming In

I think we humans are naturally curious. This is usually a good thing in my book, especially when out for a stroll to clear the mind and get a bit of exercise. For example, you might be walking along a trail and come upon a blooming wildflower. Like me, if it is unfamiliar, you might stop and bend down to get a closer look, a "zooming in" on the flower of sorts. Of course at this point, while zoomed in, I would probably pull out my camera and take a few pictures and make some notes. And thanks to the invention of the zoom lens, and its nearly universal adoption by camera manufacturers over the past 25 years, we know what zooming in means - and if you don't, it can be found in the dictionary!

The key feature of a zoom lens is that it maintains focus while changing focal length (zooming in or out). The first zoom lens was patented in 1902 and used on a commercial movie in 1927. But it was not until 1959 that the first zoom lens for still photography became available. But it was expensive, large, and heavy. Around 1980, zoom lenses for 35 mm still cameras became lighter and much more affordable. When digital cameras replaced film cameras, most were equipped with zoom lenses, solidifying the concept of zooming in and out in both still and movie cameras.

This zooming concept was and is extensively used in the commercial movie industry. And remember those shoulder busting VHS camcorders? You may recall trying to watch home movies that seemed to endlessly zoom in and out on a subject. Along with the constant panning, it was a good recipe for a migraine! But the zooming concept of going from a wide view to a close up view (or close to wide) was here to stay, and over the years it has thankfully improved and is now used sparingly by most!

For the nature lover, the zoom lens gives us photographers an opportunity to provide more context to a subject. For example, the macro shot below, at bottom, shows us an interesting fungus, but provides no view of its world. The sequence of additional, zoomed out photos offer a bit more information with each level of zoom. This familiar Hairy Curtain Crust (Stereum hirsutum) colony is living on a fallen oak tree at Champoeg State Park.

It would be difficult to give credit to one individual for the zoom lens invention, or even the concept. However, this post is a hats off to all those involved over the years, and there are many indeed, especially as the lenses were perfected and improved. For more zoom lens history, check the links in this article: Who Invented the Zoom Lens?

Footnote:

One interesting historical use of the zooming concept was created on film by the National Film Board of Canada in 1968, called Cosmic Zoom. I first saw this groundbreaking, short animated film in 1974 at a film festival while living in Boston. At only eight minutes you can now watch it online and appreciate the non-digital challenges encountered in making this fun movie. Follow the link below to watch. For the mathematically inclined among you, a similar movie was made in 1977 called The Powers of Ten and is on YouTube.

More Links:

Cosmic Zoom Movie

Powers of Ten Movie

Winter Break

Jackson Bottom Wetlands

As our dedicated staff here at wildflower blog central heads out for winter break, here's wishing all of you the best for the holiday season and beyond. It's the time of year when we empty out our suggestion box, brew lots of hot coffee, clean our cameras, make file backups, and most importantly, start planning for next season!

Wetland Trail

Not to worry though, with the backlog here at blog central, the posting will continue until extreme cabin fever sets in. Like many renowned institutions, we encourage our staff to make the most of the time off to learn more about related fields, such as botany, art, geology, and photography. Or there's always disco dancing lessons or perhaps yodeling for fun and profit with your Austrian pinscher. Whatever enrichment we embark on, you can be sure we'll be back, rested and recharged.

And now, to close out the year, here's our 2016 list of oddly named plants/flowers.

Hooded Ladies Tresses (Spiranthes romanzoffiana). Native to the Northwest. I suppose if you use a great deal of imagination and add couple of stiff drinks, this flower may look like its namesake long braided hair, from a distance. The flowers can be up to 18 in. tall.

We had not seen this uncommon member of the orchid family before this summer. Found a few growing in some clearings up on the Wilson River trail in the coast range. At left, it is seen by a wilting Evening Primrose.

     

Twiggy Wreath Plant (Stephanomeria virgata) is also called Tall Stephanomeria or Rod Wirelettuce. There were a few of these growing in the scorching hot July climate at Smith Rock State Park, north of Redmond. The batch on the left is about the size of a laundry basket. The flowers are about the size of a quarter. The slender stems are indeed twiggy and it's easy to imagine how a wreath could be made from these dried parts.

     

This Common Soapwort (Saponaria officinalis) Aug. also known as Bouncing Betty is a native plant seen at Champoeg State Park in August along the river trail. This plant name actually makes some sense because the leaves and stems release a soap-like liquid when bruised. Pioneers used it from New England to the west as a cleaning agent. A folk tale says a traveler named Betty would leave her soapwort plants wherever she camped as a token of thanks, hence the Bouncing Betty name.

     

The term "wort" is common in plant names and generally means a plant that is an edible herb or has some medicinal value. For those of us who are home ale brewers, "wort" refers to the liquid concoction of malt and grains that is cooked before fermentation. At some point these two definitions must have intersected - and there's probably a good history novel in there somewhere!

The diminutive and unassuming Oaks Toothwort (Cardamine nuttallii), makes a subtle entrance in early spring, just when the bloom season is starting. This native likes dry, semi-shaded slopes, near Garry oak trees as its name implies. Its small blooms and short stature make it easy to miss if you are not looking at the ground! These were spotted near Rowena in March.

And finally, another native favorite of ours, Forktooth Ookow (Dichelostemma congestum) can be seen locally in sunny grasslands by early summer. Its elegant cluster of blooms stands about 18 inches above ground, accounting for its other name: Ball Head Cluster Lily, formerly Brodiaea congesta. Ookow is a native American term that refers to this plant, but its meaning is unclear.

With that said, have a good winter and try to enjoy some cold weather outings; or, head south for warmth as well as a good dose of solar infusion!