Step into the spring woods and discover the broadleaf toothwort, Cardamine diphylla. Marvel at its white blossoms and deep-lobed leaves, and uncover its vital role in both early pollination and traditional medicinal practices.
Broadleaf toothwort, Cardamine diphylla, plays a charming role in the ecosystem of deciduous forests, often carpeting the forest floor with its distinctive greenery and white blossoms during the spring. This plant is particularly noted for its broad, compound leaves that usually consist of two or three leaflets, each characterized by deep lobes and a somewhat wrinkled appearance, lending it the name “crinkle root.”
The flowers of the broadleaf toothwort are a notable feature, emerging in clusters atop slender, upright stems. Each bloom presents four white petals that form a delicate cross, a typical trait of the Brassicaceae family, to which it belongs. The flowering period spans early to mid-spring, making it one of the earlier blooms in woodland areas, which plays a critical role in the local ecology. These flowers are not just a visual treat but are also vital for early-season pollinators such as bees and butterflies, providing them with necessary nectar.
Moreover, Cardamine diphylla is more than just a visual and ecological gem. It has historical uses in traditional medicine and cuisine. Native American tribes utilized the peppery roots of the toothwort as a seasoning and as a medicinal herb to treat various ailments.
The presence of Cardamine diphylla is also an indicator of the health of the forest ecosystem. Thriving populations of this plant suggest a well-preserved habitat, which is crucial for biodiversity conservation.
In summary, Cardamine diphylla, with its ecological significance and historical uses, represents a small but vital part of North America’s natural heritage, highlighting the intricate connections within woodland ecosystems and the importance of preserving these natural environments.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
The first blush of morning caresses the horizon, the palette of colors unfurling across the sky like a softly whispered promise of the day ahead. The soft pinks and blues deepen, brushing the clouds with strokes of lavender and orange, as the sun peeks just above the watery edge of the world. Today, I find myself strolling along Cocoa Beach, capturing the tender moments of dawn breaking over this tranquil Florida beachscape in early January 2024.
Each step I take along the sandy shores brings a new perspective, a new detail, revealed in the emerging light. To my right, a lone beach house sits nestled behind a veil of sea oats and palmettos, the sky behind it a canvas of warming hues. The house seems to slumber still, its windows reflecting the first golden rays of the sun. This dwelling, isolated and serene, hints at the countless summers of laughter and salty air, and the quiet winters of introspective solitude.
The sun disk breaks the horizon, visible through the clouds. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. The Space Coast.The sun disk breaks the horizon, visible through the clouds. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. The Space Coast.The sun disk breaks the horizon, visible through the clouds. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. The Space Coast.Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. On the Space CoastDune sunflower (Helianthus debilis) on the path to our condo. Cocoa Beach, Brevard County, Florida. On the Space Coast.
As the morning progresses, the sun asserts itself, climbing higher and burning off the last vestiges of night. I point my camera towards the ocean, capturing the waves as they roll in with rhythmic persistence. The sea is a creature of profound mystery in these early hours, its surface a moving mirror that catches the fire of the sunrise and dances with light. Each wave is a note in an aquatic symphony, played just for those who are awake to hear it.
Turning my gaze down, I focus on the smaller, often overlooked inhabitants of the beach. A single flower, a stubborn and resilient dune sunflower, stands boldly above the sands. It’s an unexpected sight—this splash of vibrant yellow against the muted earth tones of the sandy beach. The flower turns its face towards the sun, basking in the glow, thriving in its own patch of the world. It’s a poignant reminder of the tenacity of life, of nature’s relentless pursuit of existence against the odds.
The beauty of Cocoa Beach at dawn is not just in its sweeping vistas or the dramatic play of light and shadow. It’s also in these small, intimate encounters: the texture of the sand, the whisper of the grass, the solitary bloom. Each element is a brushstroke in a larger picture, a note in a grander melody. As I walk, my feet leave temporary impressions on the wet sand, soon to be erased by the incoming tide. It feels symbolic, this transient mark-making, reflective of the fleeting nature of life and the enduring beauty of the world around us.
Cocoa Beach this morning is a place of peace and contemplation. As I capture these moments with my camera, I am also capturing them in my heart, storing them as a balm for busier, noisier days. The photographs will speak of quiet and calm, of the soft hush of dawn, and the gentle awakening of the earth. They will tell of a morning when the world seemed to pause, just for a moment, to revel in the simplicity and beauty of another beginning.
As the sun climbs higher, its light becomes too harsh for the soft magic of dawn photography. I pack up my camera, my heart full of the morning’s calm. The beach is waking up now, the first joggers and dog walkers appearing, their morning routines intersecting with the tail end of my photographic journey. I leave Cocoa Beach carrying the quiet joy of the morning, a joy found in the dance of light on water, in the solitude of a beach house, and in the vibrant defiance of a sunflower. Dawn here is not just a time, it’s an experience—a delicate, powerful reminder of the world’s wonders, witnessed at the edge of the day.
Hepatica blossoms are the focal point here. Two land snail shells rested fortuitously below, a white and dark brown. The white shell (Scientific Name: Neohelix albolabris) is seen here. In life, the shell aperture reflective lip gives the species name, from Latin root words “albo” (white) and “labris” (lip), and the popular name, “Whitelip.” Look closely to see a series of ridges, an identifying feature apparent in this specimen. There was a live specimen in our yard, just yesterday. Busy with chores, no camera at hand.
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Afternoon, May 5th last week was spent in Fillmore Glen New York State Park, Moravia New York. Back in 2002, this was my first wildflower photography experience and repeated many times over the years (Click me for another Hepatica posting). Here is a follow-up showing the next step in the development of Hepatica blossoms, forming seed heads.
Here you see both flowers and a single seed head set in three bracts.
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Seconds after taking this shot, at f/4, I changed the f-stop to 29 and captured these blossoms with the environment in focus (yesterday’s posting). At f/4 focus is a challenge and I was not happy with the detail of the foreground blossom.
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before dual pixel adjustmentafter dual pixel adjustmentDual Pixel Raw comparison
I am in the experimentation phase of learning the new camera, so in spite of the 100% file size increase I turned on the Dual Pixel Raw feature. The two photos are from the same file. My impression is the adjustment improved the foreground flower details. Is it my imagination?
This afternoon’s sky was overcast, perfect for photographing wildflowers: clouds thin enough for light to pour through. In the clouds’ shadow there is not enough light for the plant to cast its own distracting shadows. Compare an earlier trillium photograph (click me to go there).
For the following photograph is a study in habitat. At f32, focusing on the trillium, the surroundings are clearly identifiable: several budding Foam Flower heads (Scientific Name: Tiarella), fern, rotting wood, the forest floor hidden by leaf clutter.
I released the shutter (with a 2 second delay) during a break in spring breezes, the overcast lighting bright enough for a speedy 1/8 second exposure. The focus on the opening trillium bloom is just as crisp in this exposure as the next.
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f32 / 1/8 second
At 4 f-stop, the entire plant is in focus while many habitat elements are a soft blur. An interesting point is the leaf on the left. It is in focus somewhat and is a distraction. This was an issue, in my opinion, for the first photograph.
Hepatica positioned perfectly above the trail, sprouting from moss, a grouping of the plant and flowers.
Scientific Name: Hepatica nobilis var. obtusa. I found the two land snail shells this session, I identified it as Neohelix albolabris, and positioned it in this shot to lend interest. In a future posting you will see the shell where it was found.
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Hepatica Blossoms
Six unrelated young adults, all female and without masks, not following social distancing guidelines, passed as a group just before I set up for this shot. I heard them coming and made plenty of space between them and me. COVID-19 testing in Tompkins continues to find several positive cases each week.
Finding an appropriate combination of settings for this grouping was a puzzle. My goal was to bring the flowers and surrounding into focus with intermittent breezes. The f-stop needed to be high to accommodate the depth with minimal exposure duration as the flowers moved in the slightest breeze. The solution was a high ISO (2500) and f-stop (32), yielding a 1/3 second exposure (Not fast). The compromise was patiently waiting for a break in the breezes.
Gallery of Flowers in this series
Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 