Thursday, July 25, 2013

July 25 2013 Ramble Report

Today was cool and no rain although our ramble on the Purple and Orange Trails was muddy.  Before starting off, Dale read some passages about Sourwood from A Natural History of Trees of Eastern and Central North America by Donald Culross Peattie; the full text follows for your enjoyment:

The glittering leaves of the Sourwood, wondrously fresh-looking and spirited, have completed their growth long before the flowers appear, yet so handsome are the great bouquets of bloom at the ends of the branches that they are not put out of countenance by the splendid foliage but, looking like hundreds of little lilies-of-the-valley, they sway and dance in the warm, friendly wind of late June and early July. In case you have not looked up and seen them, you may soon be made aware of them by the roar of the bees gone nectar-mad at their lips.

When autumn comes, the foliage turns a gorgeous scarlet or orange or crimson, double welcome because the Sourwood in general grows outside the range of the Sugar Maple and the Aspen, and takes their place in the South. Then, especially in the southern Appalachians where Sourwood grows 50 and 60 feet tall, is the season to set out afoot, or on horseback, or in your car, to buy sourwood honey from your country neighbors. Some of them put out little signs along the roadside, but all you have to do is watch for a row of “bee gums” not far from the farmer’s house. For if the southern farmer has hives at all, he has Sourwood honey for sale. Fortunately the blooming period of the Sourwood is just after the fading of the Mountain laurel and Rhododendron whose honeys are poisonous. Their honey the bee-keeper throws away, but he is very careful to store his sourwood honey, for it is the finest, in the opinion of many epicures, in the southeastern states and is not surpassed even by the most tangy sage honey of California.

Sourwood honey is medium-light in color, of heavy body, and slow to granulate. An average flow of as high as 75 pounds per colony from Sourwood has been recorded. Usually the local demand takes the entire crop at prices above the open market, so that Sourwood is a honey like some of the choicest wines of the vineyards of Europe – that is, it practically does not appear upon the market at all and can be had only by those epicures who will journey far to partake of it. One buys Sourwood honey as one buys any such rare product from its producers – not in a commercial spirit, paying for it and carrying away the wares – but with all the due ceremony observed between a collector and a creative artist. You ride up to the cabin door; a woman appears at the barking of the hounds, with children peeping out from behind her skirts, and mountain courtesy requires that you begin, not by stating your business but by telling where you come from. Then you assure her that she has a “right pretty place”; you praise her portulacas, her turkeys, and so, across the landscape, you arrive at her bee gums. Then you ask if she likes Sourwood honey as much as you do. You tell her that you would go far to obtain a little if only you could find somebody who would give up a few pounds of it. When the honey is produced, as it certainly will be, you accept it before asking the price. This will be shyly stated. You may safely pay it for your haggling was all done, by indirection, in your previous parley. And you are paying no more than a fico for nectar and ambrosia.

The very hard wood scarcely enters into the lumber business but is cut locally by farmers for the handles of tools. Once on a time in the days of home medicine, the leaves were brewed as a tonic, and they still, with their pleasant acid taste, quench the thirst of the hot, perspiring mountain climber.

Then Carol read from Nature's Chaos by Eliot Porter and James Gleick, p. 47:

Sometimes people try to create miniature ecosystems, mimicking on a smaller scale what the earth has created on a grand one.  One experiment in the American Southwest has brought thousands of species together in a domed world.  Simultaneously, the national park system is learning a hard lesson.  To support a single large mammal, a cougar or grizzly bear, nature requires hundreds of square miles of an intricate mesh of smaller species.  To support a whole, thriving population of such animals, the better part of a continent may be necessary.  Even the great national parks, it now seems, cannot sustain them.  The populations are dwindling and vanishing.  A stripped-down ecology may be no more plausible than a poet with a brain of a mere million bits.  Our imaginations may have been beggared by the monumental built-up hierarchies required to create the apparently simple manifestation of one herd of buffalo, one stand of dogwood.

As we went by the International Bridge in the International Garden some found a water snake.  Others of us missed it.  We all saw the beautiful Lotus blossoms.

The next stop was in the Endangered Plant Garden where we discussed the plum leaf azalea (Rhododendron prunifolia).  Callaway Gardens was established to preserve this plant that grows natively in the counties along the Alabama border from around Columbus to the Florida border.  It also grows in Southeast Alabama.  You can see it in Providence Canyon State Park, and at Callaway Gardens, and in our own Garden here.  It blooms in mid summer, whereas the other Azaleas are more Spring bloomers.  The royal catchfly (Silene regia), a rare plant in Georgia growing in the Northwest (Cumberland and Ridge and Valley provinces), and in one county in southwest Georgia was in bloom.  We found a white meadow beauty (Rhexia mariana var. mariana).  Looking over the pitcher plant bog we could identify another meadow beauty (Rhexia sp.), parrot pitcher plant, white top pitcher plant, red pitcher plant, and yellow trumpets.  We talked about how the parrot pitcher plant leaves are close to the ground in a rosette around the stem of the flower.  It is thought that it traps insects both waterborne and windborne. As water rises over the plant waterborne insects are carried into the leaves.

As we moved into the Indian Garden, Tim Homans spotted the plant of the day, crane fly orchid (Tipularia discolor).  We saw the leaves all over the garden last winter and spring.  The leaves are now gone, and the stem is rising and flowering.  It is so camouflaged that it is hard to see.  Flowers and stem are earth colors--brown and yellow brown. and stem is red brown.  This orchid grows in every county in Georgia.  We also talked about the wild ginger (Asarum arifolia), which is a deciduous plant,  The evergreen wild ginger, or heart leaf (Hexastylis arifolia) has a different little brown jug.  We find it along most of the trails in the garden.

Our next stop was on the Purple Trail to see another crane fly orchid.  In fact the group found at least  five or six of the plants in one small area.

Going down to the river we talked about Georgia basil (Conradina georgiana).  It was not blooming yet.  At the river along the Orange Trail we could see how high the river reached in the past several weeks by the mud deposits on the bank.  The river has dropped several feet since its highest level.

We continued to find Chanterelle mushrooms, as well as the Black Footed Marasmius along the Orange Trail.

Did find the sensitive fern.  White avens (Geum canadense) were blooming.  I was disappointed that the cut leaf coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata) was not in bloom.  It looks like the canopy is closing over allowing less light, and the stream flooding washed out many of the plants. 

There were two plants we could not identify.  One was flowering and was a mint of some kind (square stem).  The only plant that comes close to what we saw is nettle leaf sage (Salvia utricifolia).   If that is what it was, it should become more robust with larger flowers.  The other was a grape vine.  I have been unable to find a grape vine with those five lobed leaves.  They were not compound, but simple leaves.

The naked-flowered tick trefoil (Hylodesmum nudiflorum; syn. Desmodium nudiflorum) was blooming all along the trail.  There was also a discussion of the compound leaves of yellowroot, which seemed to be growing where it should not--away from the creek.  The consensus was that it was probably trumpet vine.  Lady fern and broad beech fern were pointed out.  Someone found the apple from a Mayapple plant.  It fell apart when dropped, and was fragrant, much like apples.

The pale indian plantain (Cacalia atriplicifolia) was just budding.  Next to it was rattlesnake fern.

The ramble ended at the Orange trail trailhead in the upper parking lot.  From which we retired to Donderos' for snacks and conversation.

In the lower parking lot Martha pointed out a huge, introduced Chinese Mantis (aka "praying mantis"), Tenodera aridifolia sinensis.


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