A rare mountain beauty, the Pink Lady Slipper. |
In the 1849 book A Tale of Manchester Life, author Elizabeth
Cleghorn Gaskell observed that a watched pot never boils.
Apparently the same theory holds true for plants we yearn to
see flower: A watched rose never blooms.
My roses have been teasing me for the past two weeks,
displaying a bit more color every day. But thanks to an unexpected cold snap,
the buds have now decided to stay tight indefinitely.
So I turned my attention to the woods.
Since this is our first spring in the mountains, I wondered
if there might be an interesting wildflower or two lurking just beyond the
garden path. And the answer was Yeah buddy!
Orchids in the wild
Spotting one Pink Lady’s Slipper on the property was a treat,
but I actually discovered four!
Like some other members of the orchid family, these Lady
Slippers (also known as Moccasin flowers) will only grow when certain fungi are
present in the roots. Obviously whatever it is, we have the right stuff.
Sadly wildflower experts report these exquisite plants
are becoming more rare each year. Despite warnings, people continue to pick the
flowers or dig up the plants, in which case the orchid is almost certainly
doomed. I will be watching my quartet very closely.
Doesn’t pass the sniff test
Look, but don't take a whiff. |
Trilliums are members of the Lily family and are among the
showiest of springtime wildflowers. The local natives sport three distinctive
leaves and when they bloom, the flowers have three petals.
American Indians used the plant as an eye medication and
women boiled the roots to make a love potion. Mountain folk say if you pick a
trillium you will bring on a rainstorm.
Although I’ve seen a number of white and pink trilliums
growing nearby, my favorite is the burgundy Wake Robin. Apparently that is the
“nice” name because it’s also known as Stinking Benjamin or Stinking Willie
because of the putrid smelling flower. Early herbalists used it to treat
gangrene.
I’ll take an
expert’s word for the aroma and just admire it from afar.
The bee’s knees
Blue-eyed grass is actually an iris. |
Entomologists studying bees have learned they can see
four colors – yellow, blue, bluish green and violet. (If I ever meet an
entomologist I’ll be sure to ask how they accomplished this feat.)
Sporting flowers of both blue and yellow, Blue-eyed Grass is
not only a bee magnet, but a favorite of wild pigs.
This charming little plant isn’t a grass at all but the
smallest member of the Iris family. And even though the flowers last only a
day, established clumps put out blooms for several weeks.
Back to the roses.
As if trilliums, Lady Slippers and blue–eyed beauties
weren’t enough, I’ve spied three native Flame Azaleas on my one-acre patch. The
neon orange flowers can stop traffic.
But I digress. The subject was roses, was it not?
And impatience.
However now with all these regal jewels at my feet,
waiting for the Queen of Flowers is no longer a hand-wringing, drawn-out ordeal.
It's an adventure.