flower – Michael Stephen Wills Photography

Discovering Trillium Species: Beauty in Diversity

A reflective springtime journey through Robert H. Treman and Fillmore Glen State Parks reveals the quiet beauty and botanical mysteries of red and white trilliums—exploring their species differences, color shifts, and the wonder of their ephemeral blooms.

May 22, 2025 MichaelStephenWills41 Comments

Click me for my Getty flower photography.

Late April – Robert H. Treman State Park

I follow a winding trail through hemlock and maple woods, the air cool and earthy after a spring rain. Under the canopy of budding leaves, I spot a flash of deep burgundy among the moss. Kneeling, I find a red trillium blooming at the base of an old oak. Its three velvety petals are a rich wine color against the green moss and damp leaf litter. A faint musky scent wafts from the flower – no wonder some call it “Stinking Benjamin.” Nearby stands another trillium, but this one is a pristine white star facing upward toward the light. Its broad petals have a gentle wavy edge and no noticeable odor. The red flower droops modestly while the white one opens itself to the sky. Different in color and posture, I realize these are two distinct species¹ sharing the same springtime stage.

Red trilliums (Trillium erectum) and white trilliums (Trillium grandiflorum) thrive side by side on the mossy roots of a tree. The maroon “wake robin” flowers nod toward the earth, while the white blooms stand upright to catch the light.

Seeing the red and white blooms side by side feels like meeting two woodland siblings – each unique yet part of the same family. The white trillium is almost luminous in the forest gloom, while the red trillium blends into the shadows with its dark hues. Both emerge from the soil after long, cold months, timing their bloom for the brief sunny window before the trees fully leaf out. Knowing how slowly these perennials grow and how long they live makes their yearly return even more special to witness. Their resilience in coming back each spring fills me with quiet awe.

Early May – Fillmore Glen State Park

A week later, I wander the lush gorge of Fillmore Glen. The trail is alive with birdsong and the rush of a creek. Dappled sunlight slips through the greening canopy, illuminating patches of the forest floor. Rounding a bend, I catch my breath — the hillside ahead is blanketed with hundreds of white trilliums, a breathtaking constellation of blooms across the ground that feels almost sacred. Careful not to tread on any, I step closer to admire them at eye level.

Up close, one large white trillium reveals a surprise: a delicate wash of pink across its aging petals, as if it were blushing. It’s known that after pollination the snow-white petals of Trillium grandiflorum often turn rose-pink with age². Indeed, many blossoms here wear a faint pink tint, especially those that have been open for a while. This blush of maturity gives the colony a quietly celebratory air – fresh ivory blooms mingling with older siblings tinted softly rose.

*The petals of a white trillium take on a soft pink blush as the flower ages, adding a new hue to the spring palette. Fresh white trilliums bloom in the background while older ones show a rosy tint.*

In a shaded nook at the edge of the colony, a lone red trillium blooms among the white. I wonder if the red and white trilliums ever hybridize. I see no intermediate colors and recall that the white trillium rarely hybridizes with other species³. The red trillium, by contrast, can swap pollen with certain close relatives, yielding various forms elsewhere. But a true red–white cross never occurs here – each species keeps to its own.

Trillium bloom April through May in central New York State. I found these blooming on the rim of Fillmore Glen near Owasco Lake and the town of Moravia.

The red trillium even has a rare white-petaled form⁴ easily mistaken for its white-flowered cousin. I linger a bit longer among these graceful “trinity flowers,” my questions answered and my appreciation deepened. As I turn to go, a sunbeam breaks through and illuminates one last trillium by the trail, its white petals touched with pink. I smile, grateful for the chance to witness this woodland wonder.

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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Footnotes

Different species: Red trillium and white trillium are separate species (Trillium erectum and Trillium grandiflorum, respectively), distinguished by traits like flower orientation and petal shapeidentifythatplant.com.
White petals turn pink: The large white trillium’s petals are pure white upon opening but gradually develop a rose-pink or purple tint as the flower agesnj.gov.
Rare hybridization: Unlike some trilliums that hybridize readily, Trillium grandiflorum (white trillium) is not known to form hybrids with other speciesen.wikipedia.org. Trillium erectum can hybridize with its close relatives, but a red–white trillium cross is not observed in nature.
White form of red trillium: Trillium erectum (normally red) has a variety with white petals, classified as T. erectum var. album, which can be mistaken for a white trillium at a glancemidatlanticnature.blogspot.com.

The Last Bloom and the Bee’s Blessing

In the final bloom of the season, a honeybee’s delicate dance with the Queen of the Night captures the fleeting beauty of nature’s cycles. Discover the profound connection between flower, bee, and life’s rhythms.

August 20, 2024August 17, 2024 MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

The Epiphyllum oxypetalum, commonly known as the Queen of the Night, is a remarkable plant. Native to Central America, this epiphyte is known for its large, fragrant flowers that bloom only once a year and last just for a single night. The fleeting nature of its bloom makes it a symbol of transience and beauty in many cultures. For me, this flower is a quiet, intimate connection to the rhythms of nature that play out around our home in Ithaca, New York.

The images you see include the last flower of the season, a white starburst of delicate petals encasing a universe of intricate details. As the day progresses, the flower remains open, revealing the next chapter in its life cycle—the possibility of forming fruit. This potential is entirely dependent on pollination, a process that is both beautifully simple and astonishingly complex.

A honeybee, a tiny yet essential participant in the grand scheme of things, hovers and lands delicately on the flower. In the first image, the bee appears tentative, exploring the outer fringes of the flower’s central structures. Its wings are still, as if it has just touched down after a careful, deliberate approach. The stamens, like a thousand arms extended in welcome, offer their pollen. Each grain of pollen is a promise, a potential seed, carried with the hope of propagation. The bee is the flower’s messenger, moving from one bloom to another, ensuring the continuity of life.

As I observe the bee’s actions through these photographs, I can’t help but reflect on the importance of these small creatures. Their work often goes unnoticed, yet without them, our ecosystems would collapse. The honeybee, in particular, has been a focus of concern in recent years due to declining populations, largely attributed to human activities. But here, in my garden, this bee is simply going about its day, unaware of the broader implications of its existence. It is focused on the task at hand, a model of mindfulness in action.

In the second and third images, the bee has moved deeper into the flower, its body now dusted with pollen. It is fully engaged in its work, undeterred by the enormity of its task. The pink style of the flower contrasts sharply with the white petals and the yellow stamens, creating a vibrant tableau of life. The bee’s body is now part of this scene, its presence both functional and aesthetic. It is not just a visitor; it is an integral part of the flower’s story.

The fourth and fifth images capture the culmination of the bee’s efforts. Having gathered what it came for, the bee is ready to move on, its job done here. The flower, too, has fulfilled its role for the season. The energy it expended to produce this magnificent bloom will now be directed towards forming fruit, provided that the pollination process is successful. If it is, this single flower will give rise to a new generation of plants, continuing the cycle of life.

But there is another, more personal layer to this story. This is the last flower of the season. It carries with it the weight of finality, the knowledge that soon the plant will rest, conserving its energy for the next year’s bloom. As I contemplate this, I am reminded of the cycles that govern not just plant life, but all life. There is a time for blooming, a time for fruiting, and a time for rest. Each phase is essential, each one a preparation for the next.

A bonus view of the honeybee in action

In allowing this flower to form fruit, I am participating, in a small way, in this cycle. We are stewards of the natural world, responsible for nurturing and preserving the life forms that share our planet. The honeybee, the flower, and I are all connected in this intricate web of life, each playing our part in the unfolding drama of existence.

These photographs are a meditation on life, a reminder of the beauty and fragility of the world around us. They capture a moment in time, brief encounters between a flower and a bee, but they also speak to something larger, something timeless. The Epiphyllum oxypetalum may bloom for just one night, but its impact, like that of the honeybee, reverberates far beyond that brief window. And in that, there is a profound lesson for all of us.

Copyright 2024 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Epiphyte

Discover the enchanting world of Epiphyllum, where the “Night Blooming Cereus” thrives without soil, capturing moisture and nutrients from the air. Explore its unique beauty and ecological significance. Read more to delve into this fascinating plant’s story.

July 9, 2024June 28, 2024 MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

The Epiphyllum genus, which includes my “Night Blooming Cereus,” consists of epiphytic plants. The term “epiphytic” comes from the Greek epi- (meaning “upon”) and phyton (meaning “plant”). Epiphytic plants, sometimes called “air plants,” do not root in soil. However, this term can be misleading, as many aquatic algae species are also epiphytes on other aquatic plants (seaweeds or aquatic angiosperms). Therefore, it’s essential not to confuse the genus root word “phyllum” (leaf) with the generic term “phytic” (plant), even though they share the common prefix “epi.” A plant can be epiphytic without being part of the Epiphyllum genus.

These were captured with the Canon EOS 5D Mark IV dslr on a Manfrotto tripod.

An epiphyte is a plant or plant-like organism that grows on the surface of another plant, deriving its moisture and nutrients from the air, rain, or debris accumulating around it. The host plants on which epiphytes grow are called phorophytes. Unlike parasites, epiphytes use other plants merely for physical support and do not negatively impact the host. Epiphytes can also be called epibionts when growing on non-plant organisms. Common in both temperate zones (mosses, liverworts, lichens, algae) and the tropics (ferns, cacti, orchids, bromeliads), epiphytes enhance biodiversity and biomass in their ecosystems. They make excellent houseplants due to their minimal water and soil needs and create rich habitats for various organisms, including animals, fungi, bacteria, and myxomycetes.

Epiphytes are not connected to the soil and must source nutrients from fog, dew, rain, mist, and decomposing organic material. They have an advantage in the canopy, where they access more light and are less vulnerable to herbivores. Epiphytes also benefit animals that live in their water reservoirs, like some frogs and arthropods.

Epiphytes significantly affect their host’s microenvironment and the broader ecosystem. They hold water in the canopy, reducing soil water input, and create cooler, moister conditions, which can decrease the host plant’s water loss through transpiration. Non-vascular epiphytes, like lichens and mosses, are particularly efficient at rapid water uptake.

Click me for another “Cereus” Post.

Reference: my post draws heavily on this source: Wikipedia, “Epiphyte.”

Early Spring IV

exploring Trillium habitat

April 30, 2024April 29, 2024 MichaelStephenWills13 Comments

Trillium as subjects are a continual challenge to find the compelling composition. Click me for another Trillium posting.

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.

Click photograph for larger image. To do this from WordPress Reader, you need to first click the title of this post to open a new page.

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.

Click for my “Finger Lakes Memories” Fine Art Photography Gallery.

Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills

Rose of Castlemaine

Beauty and History on the Maine River

January 4, 2024December 12, 2023 MichaelStephenWills15 Comments

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Christmas Ornaments III

Ooen me up to experience this vigilantly poised resin fairy figure, ignoring her floral backdrop, personifying a lambent, defiant spirit.

December 19, 2023December 21, 2023 MichaelStephenWills10 Comments

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Christmas Ornaments II

Pam incorporated a gifted resin sprite figure into her “Immaculate Conception” Christmas display, symbolizing a season’s emblem.

December 18, 2023December 21, 2023 MichaelStephenWills21 Comments

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Still Blooming

Though it is sometimes referred to as a night-blooming cereus, it is not closely related to any of the species in the tribe Cereeae

September 22, 2023September 18, 2023 MichaelStephenWills1 Comment

It was a quiet day, upping shutter speed via an increased ISO and both exposures are equally sharp.

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with the EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 L IS USM lens at f / 45, 1/5 second exposure at 300 mm focal length, ISO 400

These were captured with the Canon EOS 5D Mark IV dslr on a Manfrotto tripod.

“The flowers are nocturnal. They grow on flattened stems and are up to 30 cm (12 in) long and 17 cm (7 in) wide, and very fragrant. The principal odor components in the aroma are benzyl salicylate and methyl linoleate.[5] Pericarpels are nude, slightly angled, and green. Bracteoles are short and narrow up through ca. 10 millimetres (0.39 in) long. Receptacles are up through 20 cm long, 1 cm thick, brownish, and arching. The outer tepals are linear, acute, 8–10 cm long, and reddish through amber. The inner tepals are whitish, oblanceolate or oblong, acuminate, up through 8–10 cm long and 2.5 centimetres (0.98 in) wide. The stamens are greenish white or white, slender and weak. The styles are greenish white, pale yellow, or white, 4 mm thick, as long as inner tepals, and with many lobes.”

“The fruits are oblong, up through 12 x 8 cm, purplish red, and angled.”

“It is known to have medicinal properties in many Asian cultures, including India, Vietnam, and Malaysia. The plant is widely used in traditional medicine to treat respiratory ailments, bleeding conditions, and is also believed to have the property of reducing pain and inflammation.”

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with the EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 L IS USM lens at f / 45, 1/20 second exposure at 300 mm focal length, ISO 1600

Click me for another “Cereus” Post.

Night bloomer

Though it is sometimes referred to as a night-blooming cereus, it is not closely related to any of the species in the tribe Cereeae

September 20, 2023September 18, 2023 MichaelStephenWills5 Comments

This set compares a deep focus exposure to a shallow focus with bokeh.

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with the EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 L IS USM lens at f / 36 (the deepest focus), 1/5 second exposure at 108 mm focal length, ISO 400

These were captured with the Canon EOS 5D Mark IV dslr on a Manfrotto tripod.

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum is an easily cultivated, fast growing Epiphyllum. Epiphyllum from Greek epi- “upon” + phullon “leaf.” Oxypetalum = with acute petals. It flowers in late spring through late summer; large specimens can produce several crops of flowers in one season. This is a widely cultivated Epiphyllum species.”

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with the EF 70-300 f/4-5.6 L IS USM lens at f / 4.5, 1/250 second exposure at 108 mm focal length, ISO 400

Click me for another “Cereus” Post.

Cereus not

Though it is sometimes referred to as a night-blooming cereus, it is not closely related to any of the species in the tribe Cereeae

September 18, 2023September 16, 2023 MichaelStephenWills8 Comments

“Epiphyllum oxypetalum, the Dutchman’s pipe cactus, princess of the night or queen of the night, is a species of cactus. It blooms nocturnally, and its flowers wilt before dawn. Though it is sometimes referred to as a night-blooming cereus, it is not closely related to any of the species in the tribe Cereeae, such as Selenicereus, that are more commonly known as night-blooming cereus. All Cereus species bloom at night and are terrestrial plants; Epiphyllum species are usually epiphytic.”

Canon EOS 5D Mark IV with the EF 50 mm f/1.2L USM lens at f / 16, 1/13 second exposure, ISO 400

These were captured with the Canon EOS 5D Mark IV dslr on a Manfrotto tripod.

“Epiphyllum (“upon the leaf” in Greek) is a genus of epiphytic plants in the cactus family (Cactaceae), native to Central America and South America. Common names for these species include climbing cacti, orchid cacti and leaf cacti.”