On a warm and humid mid-afternoon, I roamed Piney Woods Church Road, in search of new discoveries and possible images. Near Rico Road, I found an circular web with this jewel of a spider waiting patiently for her prey. She is a female orchard orbweaver (Leucage venusta), a relatively common orb spider of the Eastern forest, notable for a prominent orange-red horseshoe on the underside of her abdomen.
Come along with me on a woodland wildflower walk in celebration of Mother’s Day. We will leave the sun and dust of the roadway behind, retreating to the cool shade of the Georgia forest, in Cochran Mill Park, Chattahoochee Hills. We will also leave behind a number of Eurasian roadside “weeds” in favor of our native wildflowers. Weeds flourish in the ruderal, or disturbed, zone at the road’s edge, while the forest floor is a haven for many colorful and delicate native plants. One of them that greets us on this mid-Spring day is a wild azalea (Rhododendron canescens), blooming along the edge of Bear Creek. Like many of the wildflowers we will encounter on our journey, this one does not keep well if cut and taken home, so instead we will gather a photographic bouquet to honor the mothers in our lives.
Nearby, in dappled sunlight near the stream’s edge, we find yellow stargrass, also called yellow goldstar (Hypoxis hirsuta). When not in bloom, this inconspicuous plant (rarely exceeding six inches in height) appears to be a kind of grass, but it catches the eye once the star-shaped, six-petaled bright yellow flowers burst open. The flowers are pollinated by a variety of small bees.
Our trail wends its way uphill, deeper into the forest. In the relative absence of loblolly pines (commonly a dominant tree in the most recently-farmed parts of the Georgia piedmont, accompanied by sweet gum), there is a rich, deep layer of leaf litter beneath our feet. Thriving among the leaves is a plant with large (four- to eight-inch-long) oval to elliptical leaves. Above the leaves rises a single, forking flowerhead bearing small pale blue flowers that seem out of scale for the large size of the leaves. Known as wild comfrey (Cynoglossum virginianum), it has many traditional uses as a medicinal herb, including as a skin salve for wounds and as a tonic for digestive and respiratory ailments.
We pause along the path to observe, emerging from last year’s fallen leaves, the slender blades of pale blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium albidum). The linear leaf blades look like those of an iris, reaching perhaps a foot in height. The pale blue flower has six petals and a yellow center. Although its common name identifies it as a grass, it is actually a member of the Iris Family.
Another small five-petalled yellow flower blooms among the leaf litter. Its shamrock-shaped leaves tinged with red-brown identify it as a wood sorrel, and more specifically, the common yellow wood sorrel, or sourgrass (Oxalis stricta). As the genus name hints, the leaves of wood sorrels contain oxalic acid, which imparts a lemony flavor to them. A small handful of wood sorrel leaves can make a tangy addition to salads; however, they can be poisonous if eaten in large doses.
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Wandering off the trail near a rocky ledge above a stream, we find white blooms of both the rue anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides) and its showier cousin, the false rue anemone (Enemion biternatum). Both belong to the buttercup family, and both do not actually have flower petals; instead, the sepals serve that role. The false rue anemone has robust flowers with only five parts, and deeply-lobed leaves, while the rue anemone has more delicate, slender-sepaled flowers with five to ten parts, and leaves with rounded teeth.
Nearby is yet another wood sorrel, this time with five white petals tinged with pinkish-purple. Known as the violet wood sorrel (Oxalis violacea), it was first described by the father of botanical taxonomy, Carl Linnaeus, in 1753. Like all wood sorrels, it has leaves that are shaped like shamrocks, giving sorrels the collective common name of “wild shamrocks”. The word “sorrel” is German for “sour”, referring to the sour, lemony flavor of the leaves.
Our path winds along a stream and into an adjacent wooded wetland. There, growing in the dappled sunlight in the mucky soil, is a Jack-in-the-pulpit or Indian turnip (Arisaema triphyllum). The flower consists of a central club-shaped spadix (“Jack”) surrounded by a leaf-like bract called a spathe (“the pulpit”). While the spathe’s exterior is a subdued greenish white, the interior is decorated with a dramatic reddish-purplish-black that is solid above and striped with white below. With its three enormous leaflets and highly distinctive flower shape, it is one of the easier woodland wildflowers to identify. As such, it has also been given dozens of fascinating names, including pepper turnip, bog onion, brown dragon, Indian cherries, Indian cradle, marsh turnip, and Plant-of-Peace. It’s fascinating organic form rounds out our woodland bouquet beautifully.
Join me on a Georgia roadside walk in mid-spring, and let us see what flowers we might gather in honor of Mother’s Day. Most wildflowers of the rural road edges do not hold up well cut and placed into a vase; they thrive better where they grow, in ditches or along embankments. For this reason, we will seek instead a photographic bouquet, which lasts far longer and (in the case of our thistle species, at least) is far less prickly. One of our first discoveries, perhaps because it is so abundant, is a plant with stalked clusters of yellow flowers, vaguely reminiscent of a brown-eyed Susan without the brown eye and with fewer petals. The basal leaves of the plant are somewhat elliptical in outline and highly serrated. The plant is Southern ragwort, also called Small’s ragwort (Senecio anonymus), a member of the Aster or Sunflower Family. Although used medicinally by Native Americans, this native plant has been found to contain toxins that can cause a number of ill effects, and should best be appreciated for its visual qualities only.
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Continuing down the dusty gravel road, we pass an extensive grassy area filled with flowers that look like over-sized dandelions. They rise above the ground up to two feet on their slender stalks. Their leaves are all in a rosette at the base, and look nearly identical to those of the dandelion, only a bit larger. The plant in question is the rough cat’s ear (Hypochaeris radicata), a Eurasian plant that is now widespread across the United States. Unlike the ragwort, this plant is a worthy salad additive; both the young leaves and the flower heads can be eaten raw.
Next we encounter a clump of low, clover-leaved plants, each having bright yellow heads that with forty minute florets each. Called low hop clover (Trifolium campestre), the plant is a Eurasian native that has become established throughout the United States. Because it is a legume (a member of the Bean or Pea Family), it helps to add nitrogen to the soil. (Nitrogen is a nutrient necessary for plant growth.) As the flower head dies, the florets all droop downward, making the head appear like dried hops. While blooming, the flowers are frequented by honeybees.
Our next discovery is an inconspicuous plant with minute, five-lobed white flowers, having a most distinctive name. Called beaked corn salad (Valerianella radiata), it can be identified by its forked stem with sessile stem leaves (meaning that they are attached directly to the stem, without a petiole). Its name originates from its habit of growing wild in corn fields. The leaves make an excellent salad ingredient, with a delicious nutty flavor. The European corn salad (Valerianella locusta) is nearly identical but has pale blue flowers. A popular green, it is also called lamb’s lettuce.
Our Georgia roadside walk would not be complete this time of year without spotting one thistle blooming in a pasture or roadside ditch (or, as cattle farmers who consider it a noxious weed would prefer to call it, a “blooming thistle”.) Closely related to artichokes, thistles are almost entirely edible, from their roots and leaf ribs to their flower stalks and flower heads (equivalent to the artichoke heart). They are edible, that is, if one has a lot of patience, a lot of time, and a lot of thistles. For our purpose, this purple bull thistle from Eurasia (Circium vulgare) will add a splash of vibrant color to the whites and yellows of our bouquet.
On my way home down Rico Rd., I found this pair of Japanese honeysuckle blossoms along the roadside.
On a Sunday morning in May, I encountered a spider’s web bejeweled with water droplets along the edge of a cattle pasture along Piney Woods Church Road. The experience inspired a series of half a dozen images of all the suspended drops of water along the spider’s silken threads: field rosaries.
I ventured out this morning into lingering fog after rain yesterday and overnight. I found endless delight in all the water droplets, like finely polished gems, that had collected on the surfaces of leaves and at their tips. My photograph today is the largest droplet I saw on my walk, suspended at the curled tip of a Chinese privet leaf.
Today I spotted the first daisy fleabane (Erigeron annuus) in bloom along Piney Woods Church Road. Summer is approaching.
One drop of water, poised on a curled plantain leaf, waiting for the next gust of wind.
On my daily walk down Piney Woods Church Road today, I relished the warm, moist air, evocative of a rain forest. Everywhere I was bedazzled by sundry shades of green — saplings, shrubs, and vines all crowding for space along the roadside. In this image, one vine supports another as they scramble for sunlight.
The mock strawberry (Duchesnea indica) beguiles Piney Woods Church Road passers-by with its brilliant red, luscious-looking fruits. Alas, it is all appearance; supposedly it has no flavor at all. It is not even related to the true strawberry; its resemblance is the result of convergent evolution, not genetic similarity. But oh how lovely it is, evoking the harvests of a summer soon to come.
