Violets on Earth

I have not much to say today that springtime can't say for me. First, April has had numerous sunless days. After several sunless days, turning into weeks, of no visitors and no visiting, fewer phone calls because we're all in shock and can barely mumble, and all aware we are all in the same waterlogged boat, and this is real life -- a sunny day and noticing violets at my feet felt like spiritual sustenance. I don't grow these. They're 100 percent free random grace.

Happy Earth Day!

The Happiest Day of the Year

Here it is -- the day I await all winter: the first crocus in the lawn, plus a bud for lagniappe. Joy; all doubts fade; all things are possible. The whole world looks beautiful now that it's reframed as spring. No wonder the ancient New Year came in March. I tore the plastic from the front window so I can see the east again, where the sun and the moon rise. It tore some of the paint from the house. I'll patch it up later.

Valley View Glades in Spring

Valley View Glades Natural Area is the cathedral of glades around here, where on a perfect April day you can see Birdsfoot violets (Viola pedata) and, in yellow, a Hairy Buttercup (Ranunculus hispidus) (see the hair?) and the valley vistas. Glades are stony outcroppings on south-facing hillsides that have their own specialty ecosystem, with unique glade wildflowers and creatures in spring; and in summer, glades recarpet themselves in new wildflowers and creatures: precious native Missouri features fortunately preserved from development and cared for, mainly through the removal of red cedar trees, invasives that threaten glades. Valley View Glades Natural Area is on Highway B in Jefferson County near Morse Mill. The trail, a loop 2.6 miles long, leads the hiker through hill, dale, vistas, and over brooks. You'll enjoy peace and quiet, and feel at one with the universe.

What's a Serviceberry and Can I Eat It?

Right now if you look around Missouri, because spring took its time in getting here this year, you might see a tree-like shrub with delicate flowers like this one, which in June bears highly desirable edible berries resembling and tasting kinda-like blueberries. This is a serviceberry blossom (aka "sarvisberry") on its branch. The serviceberry tree/shrub is a member of the rose family, native in most U.S. temperate climates. Birds like the berries as much as people do. The photo of the berries is from Mother Earth News. Now why is it called a "serviceberry"? Wikipedia has the folksy answer:

"[t]heir flowers heralded the roads in the Appalachian mountains becoming passable, which meant that the circuit-riding preachers would be coming soon and church services would resume; also, that the ground was thawed enough to dig graves, and funeral services could be had for those who died over the winter."

Yes, There Are Brown Flowers

"There are no 'brown' flowers. Who ever heard of brown flowers? They're probably just dark purple or dark red. Maybe you're colorblind."

"But the book Ozark Wildflowers, which is divided by flower color, has a section called Brown Flowers."

"I've never seen a brown flower."

Well, now you have. "Occasional" rather than "common" in the area, the Climbing Milkweed (Matelea decipiens) is new to me. The blossom typically has five petals and the plant's leaves are huge, floppy and heart-shaped. It likes rocky areas. Other brown flowers include early spring's Trillium and Wake Robin. Maybe other places don't have brown flowers, but Missouri is special.

When Lilacs at Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd

 Called my neighbor Sherri and asked, "Would you like some lilacs?"

They're on the cliff edge facing the road and grow nowhere else on the property. Have to sidle out onto the cliff top, very carefully, because it's sandstone and eroding. If I'm going there I thought I might as well clip enough for two, because they are too fragrant not to share. And because every one of our Moms had some lilac something. Because we see them for only a week per year.
      So I wrapped them in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch and delivered lilac branches to Sherri. And while we chatted I admired her two raised garden boxes, one with lettuce growing, and several kale plants with small tender leaves. I love to eat kale, but my yard is unfenced, and when I was allowed to plant them, bunnies ate them down to a nub before I could. Sherri invited me to just clip the kale plants and take them, to make room to plant summer vegetables. So I scored some baby kale! I call that a fair trade!

With A Love Like That. . .

...you know you should be glad.

The Most Secret Secret Place

1. When I was 10 my mom called from work and told me to cook the steak for dinner. I didn't know how. The heat was too high and I burnt it black. Scared, before Mom got home I took the pan outside and dumped the charred steak - BEHIND THE GARAGE!

Behind the Divine garage

2. Grownups hated it when kids climbed their fences and sneaked through backyards, but we did it anyway. This route down our block began in the bushes BEHIND OUR GARAGE!

3. If my little friends and I wanted to play with matches or plant dollar bills to grow money trees, we went BEHIND THE GARAGE!

4. The previous residents of our house really liked the neighbors who lived in back of us, and had left a gap in the hedge and two flagstone steps leading into the neighbors' backyard. When no grownups were looking, we kids used this as our shortcut to Carter Street! These steps were located ______________.

5. When I grew up, my husband threw what I didn't want inside the garage BEHIND THE GARAGE!

6. In 2002 I rescued pink Missouri granite bricks from the gateposts destroyed when the state widened Highway F. I had no place to put them except BEHIND THE GARAGE and they are still there!

7. To get rid of 2x9 planks full of nails I can't pry out, I drag and dump them BEHIND THE GARAGE!

8. The only place on the property that Dutchman's Breeches (pictured) ever grow is in the woodsy, north-facing incline _______________!

Happy Spring Equinox y'all!

Rarities of Spring - This Week Only!

Temperatures have hit the 80s for most of March so far, making everyone wonder how monstrously hot our summer is going to be, and sparking April flowers weeks ahead of time. But while living in the now, everyone's crazy 'bout the flowers: spring beauties, dutchman's breeches, redbuds, magnolias, daffodils, phlox (always phlox) and wildflowers, like these tiny, tiny four-petaled bluets (Haedyotis caerulea), an annual which forms mats in my south-facing lawn and won't share its space with other wildflowers. And then wild Dutchman's Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) behind the garage, the only place they grow on my whole acreage. Like the bluets, getting about 10 days to express their fullest beauty. Their puffy blooms nod in the light wind. Golly. We must all deserve these things! Wildflowers like a pastry shop for the eyes! And just go to the garden section at K-Mart or Wal-Mart! Or rather, don't, right now. It's mobbed by people hungry for plants, greenery, vegetables, divine beauty, and volunteering huge portions of their lives to grow it. Also called "gardeners."

Wildflower Week: May 11

For a long time I thought this spectacular floral firework was a "passion flower," but it's a Horsemint. Blooms briefly, dries out quickly. I love the purple freckles. In the same family is a quite similar flower, better known, called Bee Balm. Latin name of this one: Monarda bradburiana. Unforgettable.

Wildflower Week, May 7

One of the first wildflowers I remember -- I thought it was a daisy -- and it took me hours to pull out the tiny threadlike petals saying "He loves me, he loves me not...." It's a Daisy Fleabane plus a bud. Botanical name Erigeron strinosis, which sounds like something my mother said you should excuse yourself from the table for.

Wildflower Week, May 6

Spectacular beauty, eye-catching in the road shoulder: Wild columbine, or Aquilegia
canandensis. You can buy a domesticated version of this for your garden -- or you can live in rural Missouri. Check back tomorrow: There's a new wildflower each day until the 12th.

Missouri Redbuds

Picture of the road next up from mine. No rhyme or reason to these; they're along the roadsides, not in clusters, scattered, but there is nothing like Missouri redbuds this time of year, making pink glory out of the life we've got. I heard that I could strip the flowers off the branches and eatum, that they taste good, but I'm not quite that hungry, thank you. I admire too the city's fine magnolias and weeping-cherry trees, but wild flowering trees like redbud and dogwood have my vote for most romantic.

Somethin Better Than That...

Beautiful day Saturday, took the camera out, and what did I see down by the creek but a wildflower I wait all year to see. This year's first bluebell (Mertensia virginica):

But then God said to me, I got something to show you that's better 'n' that.

Better 'n' that? I said.

So I walked through the woods for a few hours scouting for fungi. Didn't see none. Took a steep way back down, leading me to an unfamiliar backwater of LaBarque Creek. And what did I see there but a whole carpet of hundreds of bluebells. I couldn't believe my eyes:
But then God said to me, I got something better 'n' that.

I said, No way.

But I kept going; now I was headin t'home, when God put in front of me a bluebell that was blue and pink at the same time:

Top that! he said.

Ants in the Pants

Pictured: Dutchmans' Breeches -- don't they look like starched linen? -- blossoming today behind the Divine garage. This spring flower has everything: it's toxic, rare, has a very short season, is fascinating and is perfectly nicknamed for its unique shape.

And. . . these perennials spread not by seeding or runners but ANTS. Ants spread the seeds for Dutchmans' Breeches, and that's God's truth. The slope behind the garage was maybe too wet this past year for ant colonies to flourish, because there's usually a drift of Dutchmans, and this year I count only three plants. Also I could have missed the main season and these are late ones. They are a weird little delight.

I don't touch 'em. These (Dicentra cucullaria) give some people dermatitis. And don't eat 'em. The bulb is poisonous.