Yesterday, 3.14(159267…) , was a perfect day for flower photography, if only some were in bloom.
Not much on the Railroad trail, other than the patch of snowdrops…. and nothing much else, until midway down Cathedral Trail, where I found a secret patch of Spotted Wintergreen. It has survived aggressive cleanup! It will not bloom until late July. A native species, I believe it was planted by Debbie Lux.
On entering Rushmore, on the lawn back of the first garage, is a Witch-Hazel more typical of the wild species than the showy one outside the Willow Room. And in front of it, much earlier than I could imagine, is a Cherry tree just beginning to bloom! The cherry tree is in fact an Autumn Flowering Cherry Tree from Japan, selected for its ability to bloom in mild winters.
In a resident’s backyard the Pussy Willow displays its catkins (yes, appropriate word!) fully extended with golden tipped florets.
From there I crossed the road to the newly named Blue and Yellow trails, first the remnant Beech forest then the Yellow riverine trail. This was a perfect day; dry, freshly-cleaned trails and .. with minimum foliage .. an excellent view of the lay of the land.
Back via Blue and Red trails I emerged at the Meditation Garden, where by chance I encountered Barbara Trought. The Winter Aconite was now fully open, against a ruff of green sepals. But there were also native crocuses!
Barbara had spotted in the woods a large white crocus, new to me. And there is also a splendid specimen of the Winter Hellebore.
Two more crocuses, the first exquisite one from a courtyard, the second is outside and can be seen at left from the hallway with the mailbox. Some may know that Saffron, the dye used in Buddhist robes, and an essential Indian condiment, is derived from the brilliant stamens and pistils of an Asian crocus.
Finally, yet a different variety of Witch Hazel found in the Courtyards, and through the window of the corridor leading to Marketing, this lovely tracery (species unknown) either from last year or this.
Text and photographs by Fred Kahan