Grass Flowers

The flowering of prairie grasses is one of my favorite phenological occurrences.  They are full of contradictions... subtle by nature of their size -- in my experiencemost people don't notice them, or even realizes that grasses have flowers... and yet they dangle almost provocatively (flowers are, after all, sexual organs... and grasses put it all out there!)  They are delicate and fragile-looking, and yet they are mighty in numbers.  Mostly they are, if you look closely at them, just incredibly beautiful, with varied colors and textures... 

Here, Indian grass flowers:

Big bluestem flowers, not close-up, but you can see that they're hanging there, right?

And switchgrass flowers, which were so small I had to put my hand there to get the camera to focus at all.

Going to Seed

This side-oats gramma is a lovely little prairie grass, nice to use in landscaping because it doesn't grow terribly tall.  Right now the seeds are ripe and ready to fall!

School's Back -- Better Start Recording!

This is one of those phenological occurrences that get people more upset than excited.  Pictured in the foreground is ragweed, and the yellowish tinge comes from pollen, and ragweed pollen causes lots of folks allergy issues.  Pictured in the background is newly flowering goldenrod.  Being a much more showy flower-er that happens to flower concurrently with ragweed, goldenrod often takes the heat for the sniffling and sneezing.  Many people who think they are allergic to goldenrod are actually reacting to the ragweed.

On the other hand, the flowering and subsequent seeding of the prairie grasses is one of my favorite late summer happenings.  The flowers are diminutive -- tiny little dangling jewels atop some of the prairie's tallest residents -- and so are often overlooked.  But they are truly lovely... brightly colored and dancing in the breeze.  I am always fascinated by the colors of the prairie grasses this time of year.  Grass is green, you say?  Not so if you look closely... There are many shades of yellow and purple, orange and red along with that green.  (Everything but true blue -- which is funny because, you know, bluestem.)

Indian Grass flowers

Big Bluestem flowers

In insect news (no photos, sadly), monarchs abound both in their adult form and in their larval stages. We found a mid-sized caterpillar munching away yesterday!

And personally, I am LOVING the year of many dragonflies that we are having... Here's just one of many articles about the phenomena; any long time readers that have stuck with me through my breaks in coverage know I love odonata, and I certainly have been enjoying watching them this summer... and it's not just vast quantities, I feel like I've seen a lot of dragonfly biodiversity recently, too.   

Updates Part (Whatever)

Purple Prairie Clover

Besides the vibrant purple of the prairie clovers, here are some other observations from today:

Red baneberries are now, indeed, red berries.
Culver's root has the very first flowers at the bottom of the stalks.
This picture didn't really capture very well the lovely orange color of the flowers on the little bluestem, but let it act as a prompt to go outside and seek some... their tiny blooms -- which most people never notice at all -- are really quite special and colorful.

Some Actual Phenology

Sweet grass, a very early-flowering prairie grass, has flowers-turning-to-seeds. This short grass is rather aggressive (I may have made a different planting choice years ago, if I'd known how aggressive it was). It has crept into the lawn and now when I mow, the vanilla aroma for which it is named fills the air.
Honeysuckle blooms. These shrubs are the current bane of my gardening existence. If they were in my yard, they'd be removed, but alas, the neighbors don't have the same taste in plants as we.
Prairie alumroot. As far as I can tell, this is pretty much what they look like in flower. Not the showiest native plant...
Red baneberry blooms. I quite love this plant -- although more for its eponymous berries than these flowers -- so I am glad to see this one back... but also a little sad because I had two, and only one came back this year.

Also noted: Lewis' prairie flax bloomed mid-week at school, but in my yard the buds are still tightly closed.

You'll pardon my absence at this phenologically exciting time of year. I was exercising a protest of the cold weather. I don't think the protest worked, but it made me feel good. Today seems finally a bit warmer... although it's still one of those days -- the sun is bright and the grass is greening and the days are lengthening and it seems like it should be warm outside and as soon as you open the door, you realize you've been hoodwinked. It is quite chilly out there.

Unfortunately, it seems, as is always the case, that the undesirables are the ones taking greatest advantage of the sunshine and scant warmth in the air. Dandelions and creeping Charlie are showing up in the yard, while the places where my spring ephemerals should be remain barren and brown. (I mean, unless there's a dandelion there.) I remember last year thinking plants wouldn't grow back and then they did... so I'm trying not to be too worried about them. But I guess that's just part of spring break.

And don't even get me started on the grass. The yard is starting to green up in many places, and already I am struggling with the grass problems I always have... where I want it (like the front yard) it's patchy, ratty and weak. Where I don't want it, like the vegetable garden, it's growing like gangbusters. (You'd grow there, too, if you could... it's the best soil, mostly sunny, the only place that gets watered... but the grass also grows unbidden in paver cracks, which wouldn't seem to be the best spot, and perennial beds...) I wish I didn't have grass at all, but it would simply be too expensive to replace it all with gardens in one year. Of course, I complain, but I have to say... most of my back yard has thick, green and mostly weed-free grass. It's just a few areas where it won't grow, and a few more where it won't stop, that seem to take over my brain and stop me from seeing the fine parts.

Anyhow, enough whining about turf grass. Here's some progress reports on some good guys:

Celandine poppies are popping up everywhere. I'm hoping, now that mine are very well established, for a beautiful display of many yellow flowers.
Shooting star starting to shoot.
Last year we put in 5 native black currants, thinking that edible landscaping plants was a genius idea (although last year being their first year, we didn't really get to eat any). Now I realize that there is another very real benefit... early leaf-out! In my yard, these are the first trees of shrubs to actually show their whole leaves, tiny though they may be. YEA!

Feelin' a Little Blue

With the sun at a low, nearing-solstice angle, its rays catch the seedheads of the little bluestem. The plants seem to have halos; the prairie a is holy place.

That photo is from Friday. After a week of mild, sunny weather -- we've had October in November so far... anyhow, today is cloudy and chilly, and tomorrow promises cold rain -- my favorite! (Or not).

Walking the Trail of History

Today started out as a beautiful day -- crisp, cool, sunny. We had a very busy and productive day. Among other things, we accomplished one of my least favorite gardening tasks... hose clean-up. It's always done in the cold, and you always get wet and muddy, plus it means you won't have anything to water for a long while. Then we went to the Trail of History, which is an annual event held in Glacial Park by the McHenry County Conservation District.

Here's a funny story from our walk back. Although it started out beautiful, the weather took a turn for the rotten while we were at the event. By this point it is very cold, cloudy, and intermittently raining. I stop occasionally to take photos of plant phenophases, and I admit that most people wouldn't use these things as photograph subjects, especially given the aforementioned weather. As I'm taking this picture of Indian grass with its seeds dry and ready to fall,

a kid... and I should point out that by kid, I mean a middle school aged kid, not like a 4-year old who could not possibly be expected to understand social mores such as if you're going to insult a stranger in public, you should probably do it, you know, in a whisper or something... so anyhow, a kid says to her mom, "Look at them. They're taking a picture of nothing. And just back there they took a picture of those leaves. [White oak, tips turning reddish brown, not included in post]. What's wrong with them?" Answer: I'm not sure, but I'm not DEAF, so we can check that off the list. We glared and mom, embarrassed, shushed kid and hurried the family along the trail. They got no lecture on noticing plant phenophases, or anything, but I did compose one in my head as we continued walking...

Here are some other pictures I took, despite the mocking of the general public.

Oaks across the wetland.

Milkweed seeds exploding.

Bog through the branches of bur oak. Leatherleaf is turning quite red in the bog.

Oak branches form an archway over the trail.

An Unearthly Being?

We found this praying mantis this morning, measuring in at about 3 inches long. These things are fascinating to students, and also serve as good proof that those science fiction people? Aren't really that creative after all. It's actually one of those things that boggles my mind... every time you see some fantastic creature or planet in a movie, it's always just an extreme version of something we have here on earth. What could these things be like if we could divorce ourselves from all we know? And are there places in the universe that not only have sprung forth life, but have conditions different enough from ours so as to generate something we can't even imagine?...

In general, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about stuff like that. I'm not a sci fi/fantasy person. There's plenty of fascinating things here on earth, crazy, diverse, unfathomable things... no need to leave earth or reality in search of the amazing.
Primrose in full bloom.
Morning dew on big bluestem.
These white asters (no identification beyond that) have just started to bloom.

Water World

Today's nature journal entry:

"Indian grass with soggy, wet seedheads. The water drops, pregnant with their own weight, seem ready to fall off. They reflect a miniature version of the world."

Prairie Updates

Milkweed pods are full sized, or almost so... lime green, fuzzy, mushy.

Indian grass has flowered.

I believe these are the very last flowers of the prairie mimosa, which I think mostly flowered earlier but I missed it. They will get neat-looking seed pods in the fall.

Not Only Bluestem

Big bluestem, at this time of year, inspires me to do something I almost never do -- add color to my sketches. One skinny stalk of grass can contain every color of the rainbow. The purple seedheads have tiny yellow flowers dangling from them; and orange pollen. The stems get bluish and reddish and yellowish, all blendy and rainbowey. The leaves (and part of the stem) retain the green color that you would normally associate with grass.

New Blooms

Big Bluestem flowers.

Switchgrass flowers.

Goldenrod flowers. (Don't ask me what kind...)

Meadowhawk on Joe Pyeweed flowers.

Onion flowers. (The real bloomin' onion.)

Endings

Crickets chirp in the still, humid night air, welcoming the darkness that comes earlier as the days march on. The air is heavy with heat and the weight of the world.

In phenological recordings, people generally note firsts, peaks, and lasts... as in, the purple coneflower first bloomed on June XX; peak bloom was July XX, and the last bloom was August XX. Loyal readers may have noticed that I am diligent about recording firsts. They are exciting and new! Who wouldn't record a first? Peaks I sometimes mention, because they do tend to be pretty. But lasts? I am not so good at making mention of the lasts. Besides lacking the excitement of a first, they are often harder to record with certainty. How do you know that monarch is the last? What if I see another tomorrow? In fact, I falsely reported the last strawberry this June, and ended up getting quite a large handful a few days later. So lasts... not my thing.

But coming home from England, I have noticed some lasts. Queen of the Prairie no longer rules the "wet prairie" located at the end of my drain spout. Spiderwort is completely finished flowering (and probably was before we left). Bergamot is looking pretty sad. While some things are just getting started -- Joe Pye bloomed while we were gone; my sweet brown-eyed susans, much later bloomers than their black-eyed friends, are finally in full bloom; big bluestem and Indian grass are flowering; and better late than never, my compass plant finally got itself a flower -- but anyhow... while these things are starting, summer for some things is winding down.

Perhaps I am taking note of this especially because summer is also winding down for me. Hard to believe, what with the fact that I am practically melting (A/C malfunction, that's another story); the fact that I just today made my first, small batch of tomato sauce; and the fact that the summer solstice is like a month and a half away... but summer for us officially ends as we go back to work this week. Pfffft. It's been a fun, but short, ride. How depressing.