On a warm September afternoon, 2024, Pam and I passed a planting of shimmering grasses along the Cayuga Lake shore, the tips of their feathery plumes swaying in a gentle breeze. Amidst the verdant tapestry, my eyes caught a flash of delicate green—a Monarch chrysalis, hanging like a precious jewel beneath one of the seed heads. It was an unexpected encounter, a moment of grace that felt almost otherworldly. The chrysalis, pale jade with gold accents, looked like something born of magic rather than biology. For a moment, time paused.
The only Monarch chrysalis we found in 2024, notable for the absence of caterpillars around our home. Tompkins Park, Ithaca, New York, Finger Lakes Region
I knelt carefully, mindful not to disturb the fragile life suspended before me. As I leaned in closer, I marveled at the perfection of its design. The intricate gold dots along its casing seemed impossibly precise, as though a divine hand had painted them there. Yet, this chrysalis was also a paradox: it was a shield of stillness, promising the coming transformation of a creature known for motion and migration.
The significance of this discovery didn’t escape me. Just two years ago, the International Union for Conservation of Nature officially classified the Monarch butterfly as “endangered.” Habitat destruction, pesticide use, and climate change have decimated their numbers. Monarchs, once so plentiful they seemed a seasonal certainty, now teeter on the edge of disappearance. To find this chrysalis was to witness a quiet rebellion against those odds, a solitary emblem of resilience in a world fraught with loss.
I thought of their epic journey—a migration that spans thousands of miles, linking Canada to the forests of central Mexico. For generations, these butterflies have followed ancestral paths with unerring precision, defying every obstacle in their way. How can something so small carry the weight of such immense journeys? And how, in a world that seems to grow harsher each year, do they still persist?
This chrysalis, tucked in the grasses of Stewart Park, felt like an answer to those questions. It was a reminder of the resilience of life, the determination of nature to continue despite all that works against it. And yet, it also felt like a fragile promise. The Monarch’s survival is no longer assured; its future, like the butterfly within this chrysalis, hangs by a thread.
As I rose and continued our walk, I carried the image of the chrysalis with me, letting its quiet beauty settle in my mind. I thought of the interconnectedness of all things: the milkweed plants that sustain Monarch caterpillars, the winds that guide their migrations, and the people whose choices shape the landscapes they traverse. Stewardship is not just a responsibility; it is a privilege—an opportunity to ensure that these miraculous creatures continue to grace our skies.
By the time I left the park, the sun had sunk toward the west, its light no longer graced the grasses. I looked back one last time, hoping that this chrysalis would complete its transformation safely. In its stillness, I saw not just hope, but a call to action. The Monarch’s story is not just about survival; it’s about the courage to evolve and adapt, even when the odds seem insurmountable. And perhaps, in witnessing this moment of metamorphosis, we too are reminded of our capacity to change—to become better stewards of the world we share.
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Discover the timeless beauty of two towering Cottonwood trees along the shores of Cayuga Lake. Explore their natural history, cultural significance, and how they’ve shaped the landscape of Stewart Park for generations.
Walking with Pam in Stewart Park, the shores of Cayuga Lake shimmer under the bright September sun, offering a serene setting for reflection. Ahead, two towering Cottonwood trees stand in quiet majesty, their branches spreading wide, casting long shadows over the grass and walkway. Drawn toward them, I find myself in awe of their presence—these two trees, ancient sentinels by the water, who have silently borne witness to the changing world around them.
View Facing East/Southeast, September 10, 2024
Cottonwoods, scientifically known as Populus deltoides, are members of the poplar family and are among the tallest trees in North America. The ones before me have thrived for decades, their thick, furrowed trunks a testament to the endurance of life on the edge of the lake. It’s remarkable to think of all the storms and seasons they’ve weathered—their roots digging deep into the moist earth, nourished by the lake’s constant ebb and flow. I feel as though these trees, standing side by side, companions, connected through the unseen networks of roots beneath the soil. Their relationship to one another seems profound, they have grown up together, providing support and strength as they aged. Their canopies overlapping as though embracing one another.
There’s an undeniable symmetry to their relationship, both in form and function. One can imagine them as silent witnesses to the changing landscape around them—the gradual expansion of the park, the families that come and go, the laughter of children playing nearby, and the quiet conversations of couples walking hand in hand. These trees have become part of the fabric of Stewart Park, deeply entwined with the human history that unfolds here every day.
View Facing East, September 10, 2024
The branches reach skyward, their leaves shimmering in the breeze, producing the characteristic fluttering sound of Cottonwoods. There’s something deeply soothing about this rustling—the way the wind seems to dance through the leaves, creating a rhythm that feels eternal. It reminds me that these trees have long been part of human experience, a backdrop to countless strolls, picnics, and quiet moments of contemplation here at Stewart Park.
Cottonwoods are fast-growing, often found near bodies of water where their shallow roots can tap into consistent moisture. And yet, their rapid growth comes with a trade-off; their wood is soft and brittle, prone to breaking in high winds. But in Stewart Park, these two trees have found a perfect balance, their large, sweeping canopies offering shade and shelter without suffering too much damage from the storms that blow through the Finger Lakes. Their resilience is remarkable—a reminder of nature’s ability to thrive in challenging conditions.
Historically, Cottonwoods have played a significant role in the lives of the people who encountered them. Native Americans once used the bark for medicinal purposes and fashioned the wood into canoes. Early settlers appreciated the trees for their rapid growth and ability to provide shade and timber in otherwise open expanses of the Midwest and Northeast. Even today, their legacy endures as they continue to offer shade and shelter, albeit more for leisure than for survival.
I notice how the pathway itself bends gently to accommodate the Cottonwoods. The paved trail, so clearly designed with these majestic trees in mind, arcs around their broad bases as if to honor their presence. In a world where nature is so often bent to human will, it’s refreshing to see this small, quiet gesture of deference—a reminder that in our modern parks, nature can sometimes lead the way.
View Facing West, June 25, 2024
The path doesn’t cut through or impose upon these trees. Instead, it respects their claim to the land, curving around them in a way that feels organic, almost reverent. The roots of these Cottonwoods must reach far beyond what I can see, extending outward in all directions beneath the soil, beneath the path itself. It’s as though the trees and the human-made elements of the park have reached a compromise—a harmonious balance where both can coexist without either having to sacrifice too much.
In their wisdom, the planners of this park understood that these trees had already laid their claim long before the park’s paths were laid out. It’s a small but profound testament to the enduring power of nature and the foresight of those who designed this space. As I walk along the path, I feel the subtle shift in the landscape—the way the curve of the trail encourages a more leisurely pace, inviting visitors to pause for a moment and take in the grandeur of these ancient trees.
The curve itself creates a sense of flow, as if the path is gently nudging us toward a deeper appreciation of the Cottonwoods. There’s no rush here. The trees stand in their place, rooted and steadfast, while we are invited to move around them, to change our course slightly in order to make space for something larger than ourselves. The path becomes a metaphor for our relationship with nature—we must sometimes bend and yield to its greater forces, rather than insist on our own straight and rigid lines.
This curved path speaks to the broader theme of adaptability—how both nature and humanity have learned to accommodate one another. The Cottonwoods have withstood the test of time, their roots dug deep into the soil, while we have found ways to move alongside them, adjusting our course to allow for their growth. It’s a quiet but powerful reminder of the importance of coexistence and respect, of making space for the natural world rather than always seeking to dominate it.
As we pass by, I notice the texture of their bark—deeply furrowed and rough, a tactile reminder of the passage of time. Each ridge and crevice holds the story of countless seasons—of dry summers, harsh winters, and everything in between. I reach out and touch one of the trunks, feeling the coolness of the bark under my hand. There’s a vitality here that can only be sensed up close, a quiet hum of life that pulses just beneath the surface.
Yet, despite their imposing size and age, the Cottonwoods remain humble in their role. They do not demand attention like a flowering dogwood or a brightly colored maple. Instead, they offer something more enduring—a quiet, steady presence that provides shelter and shade without fanfare. Their leaves turn a brilliant yellow in autumn, adding to the kaleidoscope of colors that make up the Finger Lakes’ fall landscape. But even in winter, when the leaves are gone, their bare branches stand against the cold sky, offering a stark beauty all their own.
As I step back to take in the full view of these two Cottonwoods, I am filled with a sense of gratitude. Their lives, so intimately tied to this place, remind me of the interconnectedness of all living things—the way nature, time, and humanity overlap in ways both seen and unseen. These trees, growing together on the shores of Cayuga Lake, are not just part of the landscape—they are part of the story of Stewart Park and, in a broader sense, the story of this region. They remind me that, like them, we are all shaped by our surroundings, by the people and places that stand beside us as we grow. And in that way, we are never truly alone.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Amid the rolling hills and meadows of the Finger Lakes, Queen Anne’s Lace stands tall, its delicate white blooms weaving a tapestry of nature’s resilience and beauty. Discover the rich history, legends, and ecological importance behind this elegant wildflower.
In the Finger Lakes region of New York State, fields come alive with the delicate beauty of Queen Anne’s Lace—a wildflower that embodies nature’s elegance. Scientifically known as Daucus carota, its flowering umbels resemble intricate lace, lending poetic charm to the landscapes it graces. Beyond aesthetics, the history and mythology behind Queen Anne’s Lace, combined with its ecological importance and cultural significance, reveal a plant deeply intertwined with both nature and human culture.
The Name and Its Myths
The name Queen Anne’s Lace derives from English legend. According to the tale, Queen Anne, consort to King James I, was challenged to create lace as beautiful as the flower. While sewing, she pricked her finger, and a single drop of blood stained the lace—represented by the tiny purple floret at the center of many Queen Anne’s Lace blossoms. This intricate network of white flowers surrounding a central floret mirrors the lacework attributed to Queen Anne, giving the plant a royal and historic association.
Scientifically known as Daucus carota, Queen Anne’s Lace is also known by several other common names, including wild carrot and bird’s nest, the latter inspired by the way the flower head curls inward as the seeds begin to develop, resembling a nest. The flower is closely related to the cultivated carrot, and its roots, though much smaller and woodier, share the familiar carrot scent. In fact, Queen Anne’s Lace is considered the wild ancestor of the domestic carrot, with a lineage stretching back thousands of years.
In the meadows of the Brock-Harvey Forest Preserve, Queen Anne’s Lace thrives among the native flora, showcasing its delicate beauty. The function of the central dark florets of D. carota has been subject to debate since Charles Darwin speculated that they are a vestigial trait. It has been suggested that they have the adaptive function of mimicking insects, thus either discouraging herbivory, or attracting pollinators by indicating the presence of food or opportunities for mating. Research conducted in Portugal suggests that the dark central florets of Daucus carota mimic insects, attracting pollinators like the varied carpet beetle (Anthrenus verbasci). Inflorescences with more dark florets experienced increased visitation, indicating these florets may enhance pollination efficiency.
Queen Anne’s Lace in Finger Lakes Ecology
Beyond its rich mythology, Queen Anne’s Lace plays a significant role in the ecology of the Finger Lakes region. Throughout the expansive landscapes of the Finger Lakes, from lush meadows to roadsides, Queen Anne’s Lace stands tall, its delicate blossoms dotting the green with clusters of white. This wildflower can be observed in various stages of its life cycle, from budding umbels to the intricate ‘bird’s nest’ formation.
The fields around the Finger Lakes, often framed by rolling hills and ancient forests, offer the perfect habitat for Daucus carota. The plant thrives in well-drained soils and open sunlight, often outcompeting other flora. Its deep taproots, a characteristic inherited from its cultivated cousin, the carrot, allow it to flourish in the rocky soils of the region.
In these fields, Queen Anne’s Lace performs a vital ecological role. The plant attracts a variety of pollinators, including bees, butterflies, and beneficial insects like lacewings, which help to control aphid populations. The wide, flat umbels provide an ideal landing platform for these insects, who in turn pollinate the flowers, ensuring the plant’s continued spread.
A History of Use
The plant’s ecological importance is matched by its historical uses throughout human civilization. Queen Anne’s Lace has long been a part of human history, both for its beauty and for its practical applications. The plant’s medicinal uses stretch back to ancient times. The seeds and roots were used by the ancient Greeks and Romans as a natural remedy for a variety of ailments, including digestive issues and inflammation. The seeds, when chewed, were believed to prevent conception and were used as a natural form of birth control.
For Native American tribes in the Finger Lakes region, Queen Anne’s Lace was a valuable plant. The roots were often used in the preparation of poultices to treat minor wounds and skin irritations. Additionally, the seeds were used for their diuretic properties, often in teas to help with urinary tract issues. The plant’s close relation to the domestic carrot also meant that its roots could be used as food, though they required careful preparation due to their tough texture and strong flavor.
A Symbol of Resilience and Elegance
The symbolism of Queen Anne’s Lace is steeped in both the fragility and strength it represents. Like the lace it mimics, the flower appears delicate and ephemeral, yet it is a hardy species that thrives in even the most inhospitable conditions. Its deep taproot enables it to survive droughts and poor soil, symbolizing resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity.
In Cayuga County, near Fillmore Glen State Park in Moravia, New York State, farm fields are often adorned with the intricate blooms of Queen Anne’s Lace.
Each summer, the fields of the Finger Lakes burst forth with Queen Anne’s Lace, their towering stalks reaching upward, crowned with intricate blossoms that sway gently in the breeze. As the season progresses, the once-flat umbels curl inward, forming a tight bird’s nest—a final act of elegance before the plant disperses its seeds to ensure future generations.
In capturing the essence of this flower in photographs that accompany this essay, the delicate yet persistent nature of Queen Anne’s Lace is evident. Whether standing tall against a backdrop of green hills, or growing alongside weathered hay bales, Queen Anne’s Lace offers a moment of reflection on the intersection of beauty, history, and nature. Its quiet presence in the Finger Lakes is a reminder that even the smallest, most unassuming plants can carry with them deep histories, enduring stories, and a legacy of utility and elegance.
As golden hues of sunset bathe the rolling hills of the Finger Lakes, the ethereal silhouettes of Queen Anne’s Lace stand as a testament to the region’s natural splendor. Whether admired for its aesthetics, revered for its medicinal uses, or simply appreciated for its ecological role, Queen Anne’s Lace remains an iconic and beloved part of the Finger Lakes’ wildflower tapestry.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Join us on a journey through the enchanting forests of the Finger Lakes as we explore the fascinating world of Hepatica nobilis. Discover the lore, natural history, and beauty of these early spring bloomers. Dive into the magic of the wild!
As I ventured along the Gorge Trail of Robert H. Treman New York State Park, I stumbled upon a captivating sight. Amidst the rich leaf litter and emerging greenery, clusters of Hepatica plants caught my eye. Although the flowers had already gone to seed, their distinctive leaves and stems told a story of early spring beauty in the heart of the Finger Lakes Region, Tompkins County. Using my Apple iPhone 14 ProMax, I documented these charming plants, eager to delve deeper into their fascinating world.
Hepatica, scientifically known as Hepatica nobilis, also goes by several common names including Liverleaf, Liverwort, and Kidneywort. The genus name “Hepatica” comes from the Greek word “hepar,” meaning liver, due to the shape and color of its leaves, which resemble the lobes of a human liver. This resemblance led to the plant being used historically in herbal medicine to treat liver ailments, in line with the Doctrine of Signatures—a belief that plants resembling body parts could cure ailments of those parts.
Fillmore Glen New York State Park, Moravia, New York on an April afternoon.
The common names of Hepatica reflect its historical medicinal uses. “Liverleaf” and “Liverwort” both reference its liver-shaped leaves, while “Kidneywort” likely arose from the kidney-like appearance of its seeds. These names have endured through centuries, reflecting the plant’s significant role in both folklore and herbal medicine.
Hepatica is a perennial plant in the buttercup family, Ranunculaceae. It thrives in deciduous forests, often found in shaded areas with rich, well-drained soil. The plant is one of the first to bloom in early spring, producing delicate flowers in shades of white, pink, blue, or purple. By the time I encountered them on my hike, the flowers had already transitioned to seed, but the distinctive lobed leaves remained vibrant and lush.
Fillmore Glen New York State Park, Moravia, New York on an April afternoon.
Reproduction in Hepatica is primarily through seed, though the plant can also propagate vegetatively. The flowers are insect-pollinated, attracting early-season pollinators such as bees and flies. Once pollinated, the flowers produce seeds encased in small, fuzzy fruits. These seeds are often dispersed by ants, a process known as myrmecochory, which helps ensure the plant’s spread throughout the forest floor.
Native American tribes, including the Iroquois, valued Hepatica for its medicinal properties. They used the leaves to brew teas believed to treat liver disorders, digestive issues, and skin ailments. European settlers adopted similar practices, incorporating Hepatica into their own herbal remedies.
In European folklore, Hepatica was often associated with healing and protection. The plant was believed to ward off evil spirits and protect against various maladies. In the language of flowers, Hepatica symbolizes confidence and bravery, reflecting its early emergence in the harsh conditions of early spring.
Fillmore Glen New York State Park, Moravia, New York on an April afternoon.
Today, Hepatica continues to enchant nature enthusiasts and hikers with its early blooms and lush foliage. It plays a crucial role in the ecosystem, providing a vital source of nectar for early pollinators and contributing to the biodiversity of deciduous forests.
Walking through the gorge, I felt a deep connection to the natural history and cultural significance of Hepatica. The plant’s resilience and beauty, even in its seeding stage, served as a reminder of the enduring cycles of nature and the intricate relationships between plants, animals, and humans.
In conclusion, Hepatica nobilis, or Liverleaf, is a plant of remarkable beauty and historical significance. Its early spring blooms and distinctive leaves make it a cherished sight in the forests of the Finger Lakes. As I continued my hike, I felt a profound appreciation for the rich tapestry of life that Hepatica represents, a testament to the enduring wonders of nature.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Discover the enchanting Sweet White Violets (Viola blanda) in Treman Gorge. Join us as we explore their natural history, lore, and beauty in the heart of the Finger Lakes. Dive into the magic of spring time blooms!
As I walked the Gorge Trail of Robert H. Treman New York State Park, my attention was captivated by a lush carpet of delicate white flowers nestled among the vibrant green foliage. These enchanting blooms, known as Viola blanda or Sweet White Violets, were a delightful sight against the backdrop of the rugged terrain of the Finger Lakes Region in Tompkins County. Armed with my trusty Apple iPhone 14 ProMax, I couldn’t resist capturing the moment.
Viola blanda, also known as Sweet White Violet or Pale Violet, derives its scientific name from Latin. “Viola” is the classical Latin name for violets, while “blanda” means charming or pleasant, an apt description for these delightful little plants. The name “Sweet White Violet” alludes to the delicate and sweet fragrance of its flowers, a scent that is often subtle but unmistakably pleasant when noticed.
Sweet White Violets are perennial plants, part of the Violaceae family, and are typically found in moist, wooded areas. They are one of the first wildflowers to bloom in spring, their pure white petals standing out amidst the fresh green growth of the forest floor. The leaves are heart-shaped with finely serrated edges, and they form a dense mat that can cover the ground in a verdant blanket.
The reproduction of Viola blanda is fascinating. These plants produce both cleistogamous and chasmogamous flowers. The chasmogamous flowers, which are the ones most of us are familiar with, are the showy, white blooms that open fully and are pollinated by insects. Cleistogamous flowers, on the other hand, do not open and are self-pollinating. This dual strategy ensures that the plant can reproduce even in the absence of pollinators, securing its presence in the ecosystem year after year.
Native Americans, particularly the Iroquois tribes whose region this included, held violets in high regard. They used the plant medicinally to treat colds, coughs, and headaches. The leaves were often brewed into a tea, believed to have soothing properties. European settlers, too, were fond of the violet. They would often use the leaves and flowers in salads and as a garnish, taking advantage of both its nutritional value and pleasant taste.
Interestingly, in folklore, violets were associated with love and were often used in love potions. The ancient Greeks believed that violets could moderate anger and induce sleep. In the language of flowers, which was particularly popular during the Victorian era, violets symbolized modesty and faithfulness.
In modern times, the Sweet White Violet continues to charm nature enthusiasts and hikers alike. It plays a crucial role in the ecosystem, providing early spring nectar for pollinators such as bees and butterflies. The plant also serves as a host for certain butterfly species, which lay their eggs on the leaves. As the caterpillars hatch, they feed on the leaves, continuing the cycle of life.
Walking through the gorge, I felt a profound connection to the natural world. The Sweet White Violet, with its humble beauty and rich history, served as a reminder of the intricate web of life that thrives in these woods. Each step on the trail was a journey through the park and a walk through time, connecting me to the countless generations who have walked these paths before me, enchanted by the same delicate flowers.
In conclusion, the Viola blanda, or Sweet White Violet, is more than just a pretty face in the forest. It is a plant steeped in history, folklore, and ecological importance. As I continued my hike, I felt grateful for the opportunity to witness such beauty firsthand and to share in the timeless joy that these charming plants bring to the world.
Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Ferns, ancient plants with unique reproduction strategies and ecological significance, adapt to diverse environments while contributing to overall biodiversity and human culture.
In the vast tapestry of the plant kingdom, ferns occupy a unique and enduring place. These ancient plants, often overlooked in favor of their flowering counterparts, have a fascinating and seemingly eternal existence that spans millions of years. Ferns, with their lush green fronds and distinctive reproductive mechanisms, offer us a glimpse into the enduring legacy of life on Earth and the remarkable adaptations that have allowed them to persist through the ages.
Walking Up A Leaf Strewn Dry Creek to find….
Ferns belong to the group of plants known as Pteridophytes, which evolved more than 360 million years ago during the late Devonian period. Their evolutionary history predates the appearance of flowering plants, making ferns some of the oldest living organisms on our planet. This remarkable longevity raises the question: how have ferns managed to survive and thrive for so long?
One key to the success of ferns lies in their unique reproductive strategy. Unlike flowering plants that produce seeds, ferns reproduce via spores. These small, dust-like structures contain the genetic material necessary for ferns to reproduce. When mature, ferns release spores into the environment, where they can be carried by the wind or water to new locations. Once a spore finds a suitable environment, it can germinate and develop into a new fern plant.
The spore-based reproduction of ferns is not only ancient but also highly efficient. It allows ferns to colonize diverse habitats, from moist, shaded forests to arid deserts. Additionally, ferns can form extensive networks of underground rhizomes, which are creeping stems that give rise to new fronds. This vegetative propagation further contributes to their resilience and adaptability.
Ferns have also developed a range of adaptations that enable them to thrive in various environmental conditions. Some fern species, such as the resurrection fern (Pleopeltis polypodioides), can endure extreme desiccation. When conditions are dry, these ferns curl up and appear dead, but they can quickly revive and unfurl their fronds when moisture returns. Backpacking through mountainous Arizona wilderness I encountered small ferns growing in the shade of rock ledges, maybe this was Phillips Cliff Fern (Woodsia phillipsii). My guide called it “Ridgeline Fern” and claimed it was important for desert survival, could be eaten in extremis situations. This remarkable ability to withstand drought and promote human survival is a testament to the tenacity and usefulness of ferns.
...a backlit fern frond.
Another intriguing aspect of ferns is their mutualistic relationship with mycorrhizal fungi. These fungi form symbiotic associations with fern roots, aiding in nutrient absorption and enhancing the fern’s ability to thrive in nutrient-poor soils. This partnership has likely contributed to the fern’s ability to colonize a wide range of habitats and compete with other plant species.
While ferns have proven to be resilient survivors, they have also played a crucial role in shaping Earth’s ecosystems. Ferns are often early colonizers in disturbed or newly formed habitats, and their presence can help stabilize soils and create conditions suitable for the establishment of other plant species. In this way, ferns contribute to the ecological succession and overall biodiversity of ecosystems.
Beyond their ecological significance, ferns have captured the human imagination for centuries. Their delicate and intricate fronds have inspired art, literature, and even garden design. Many garden enthusiasts cultivate ferns for their ornamental beauty and unique charm.
In conclusion, the eternal life of ferns is a testament to the remarkable adaptability and resilience of these ancient plants. Their longevity, dating back millions of years, serves as a reminder of the enduring nature of life on Earth. Ferns have evolved unique reproductive strategies, adaptations to various environments, and mutualistic relationships that have allowed them to persist and thrive. Whether they are serving as pioneers in newly formed habitats or gracing our gardens with their elegance, ferns continue to capture our fascination and enrich the natural world. Their legacy reminds us of the intricate and interconnected web of life that has persisted on our planet through the ages.
Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved MichaelStephenWills.com
The red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit plant play a key role in seed dispersion, wildlife sustenance, and fueling its energy storage organ, the corm.
As the crisp air of autumn settles in and the leaves begin their spectacular transformation into hues of red, orange, and yellow, the forest floor comes alive with a myriad of hidden wonders. Among these wonders, the Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) stands out for its striking red berries and the role they play in the fall glory of the woodland ecosystem. In this essay, we will explore the beauty and significance of these red berries and how they are intrinsically linked to the plant’s corm.
Equipped with a Canon dslr / variable lens and Manfrotto carbon fiber (light) tripod, these macro still lifes were possible by keeping to shadow pools on a cloudless early October weekday
The Jack-in-the-Pulpit, a native perennial herbaceous plant of North America, is known for its distinctive appearance, featuring a hood-like structure known as the spathe and a tall, slender stalk called the spadix. It is during the fall season that the plant’s fascinating red berries make their appearance, contrasting vividly against the backdrop of autumn’s colors. These berries are the result of a process that begins in the spring, when the plant first emerges from its underground corm.
Throughout the growing season, the Jack-in-the-Pulpit devotes its energy to producing these striking red berries, which serve several important ecological functions. The red berries are not only visually appealing but also function as a means of reproduction for the plant. They contain seeds that, once mature, can be dispersed to establish new Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants. These seeds are often transported by animals that consume the berries, such as birds and rodents, which then disperse them in their droppings, contributing to the plant’s spread throughout the forest.
Jack-in-the-Pulpit Berries
The bright red color of the berries is a key feature that attracts birds, making them an essential food source during the fall and early winter months. Birds like thrushes, cardinals, and robins are known to feed on the Jack-in-the-Pulpit berries, aiding in seed dispersal while benefiting from the nutrient-rich fruits. This mutualistic relationship between the plant and its avian dispersers showcases the interconnectedness of the forest ecosystem, where each species relies on the other for survival and propagation.
The significance of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit’s red berries extends to the corm beneath the surface. The corm serves as an energy storage organ for the plant, helping it survive through the harsh winter months when the above-ground parts of the plant wither and die. During the fall, as the plant directs its energy toward producing berries, it also transfers nutrients to the corm, ensuring its vitality and readiness for the following spring.
Furthermore, the corm itself can serve as an energy reserve for the production of future berries and the growth of new shoots. As the plant enters dormancy, it relies on the stored energy in the corm to fuel its growth when conditions become favorable in the next growing season. In this way, the corm and the red berries are intricately linked, with the berries representing the culmination of a year-long process of energy accumulation and reproduction.
In conclusion, the red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit are a captivating and vital component of the fall glory that graces our woodlands. Their vibrant color and ecological role in seed dispersal highlight the plant’s contribution to the forest ecosystem’s richness and diversity. Moreover, these berries are a testament to the interconnectedness of nature, as they are not only visually stunning but also an essential food source for wildlife. As we marvel at the beauty of fall and explore the wonders of the natural world, let us take a moment to appreciate the significance of the red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit and their role in the intricate web of life that surrounds us.
Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved MichaelStephenWills.com
The Malloryville eskers near Freeville, New York, highlight the region’s glacial history and contribute significantly to biodiversity and local ecology.
Walking here, I enjoy telling the grandchildren of the immense, mile-high ice sheet that once covered this land 10,000 years ago, creating these hills and hollows.
A forested path set among the glacially formed terrain of the O.D. von Engeln Malloryville Preserve near Freeville, New York.
Eskers are geological features that tell a rich tale of the glacial history of an area. In the landscape near Freeville, New York, the eskers of Malloryville stand as prominent reminders of the last Ice Age and the profound effects glaciers have had on the North American terrain. These elongated ridges, composed primarily of sand and gravel, not only offer a visual spectacle but also provide crucial insights into the glacial processes that shaped the region.
Eskers are formed by the deposition of sediment from meltwater rivers flowing on the surface of or within glaciers. As these glaciers recede, the sediment accumulates in the paths previously carved by the meltwater streams, eventually forming ridges. The Malloryville eskers are particularly notable for their well-preserved structure, giving geologists and enthusiasts alike a clear vision of the patterns of glacial meltwater flow from thousands of years ago.
Located just a few miles from Freeville, the Malloryville eskers are an intriguing natural attraction. The topography of the area, largely shaped by the Laurentide Ice Sheet during the last glacial maximum, is characterized by various glacial features, but the eskers are undeniably some of the most distinct. Their serpentine-like appearance, weaving through the landscape, immediately captures one’s attention and beckons further exploration.
From an ecological perspective, the eskers of Malloryville contribute to the area’s biodiversity. The unique microenvironments created by these ridges offer habitats that differ from the surrounding landscape. This differentiation allows for a variety of plant species to thrive, some of which are specially adapted to the well-drained soils of the eskers. Additionally, these ridges act as corridors for wildlife, facilitating movement and offering vantage points for species like deer and birds of prey.
Historically, the eskers near Freeville have also had an impact on human activity. Native American communities, recognizing the strategic advantage of these high grounds, are known to have used them as pathways or even settlement sites. In more recent history, the gravel and sand composition of the eskers have made them targets for mining activities. While this has led to the alteration or destruction of some sections, it has also highlighted the importance of preserving these unique geological features for future generations.
Efforts to study and preserve the Malloryville eskers have grown in recent years. Local educational institutions, in collaboration with geological societies, have undertaken detailed studies to understand the formation and significance of these features better. Such initiatives not only contribute to the scientific understanding of glacial processes but also raise awareness about the importance of conserving unique geological formations. Given the potential impacts of climate change on glacial landscapes worldwide, the eskers serve as a poignant reminder of the dynamic nature of our planet and the traces left behind by the ebb and flow of ice ages.
In conclusion, the eskers of Malloryville near Freeville, New York, stand as testaments to the glacial history of the region. These winding ridges, with their intricate patterns and rich ecological contributions, weave a story of natural processes that have spanned millennia. They remind us of the ever-changing nature of our planet and underscore the importance of understanding and preserving its geological wonders. Whether one views them with the eyes of a scientist, historian, or nature enthusiast, the Malloryville eskers offer a captivating glimpse into the ancient forces that have shaped the world around us.
Copyright 2020 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Found in a meadow of the Brock-Harvey Forest Preserve. The function of the central dark florets of D. carota has been subject to debate since Charles Darwin speculated that they are a vestigial trait.
It has been suggested that they have the adaptive function of mimicking insects, thus either discouraging herbivory, or attracting pollinators by indicating the presence of food or opportunities for mating.
One study in Portugal found that the dark florets contributed to visitation by the varied carpet beetle, Anthrenus verbasci, and that higher numbers of dark florets correlated with increased visitation, whereas inflorescences without dark florets had fewer visits. Replacing the dark florets with one or more freeze-killed A. verbasci, who are similar to the florets in size and shape produced similar results to those observations of inflorescences with intact florets..
This specimen was found among many others in a meadow of the Brock-Harvey Forest Preserve
The range of the Meadow Fritillary covers eastern British Columbia east through southern Canada and the northern part of the US to Newfoundland, south to north central Oregon, central Colorado, northeast Tennessee, and northwest North Carolina.
This species is found throughout the Northeast and New England. It is said to have significantly expanded its range southward in recent years. Adult Meadow Fritillaries feed on nectar from a variety of plants, including Black-eyed Susans, dandelions, and Ox-eyed Daisies.
The Meadow Fritillary’s flight pattern is usually described as rapid, low, and jerky.
This specimen was found among many others in a meadow of the Brock-Harvey Forest Preserve
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 