Paradise Gardens

Talk about convergences!  Earlier this month, I posted a story with a brief mention of Joe Hollis.  Around the same time, I was feasting on a series of videos produced by Peter Santenello, the best documentaries I've seen online (or anywhere else) in a long time.  Peter's profile of "Titus" is splendid.  Then, just this week I heard about a viral video pertaining to a man with a garden in Yancey County, North Carolina.  I guessed that Peter had caught up with Joe Hollis, and I was correct.  Thirteen years ago, I spent some time at Joe's and shared this story...

[From August 22, 2010]

If you ever have the good fortune to sit down with Joe Hollis, he might explain that the molecules of hemoglobin and chlorophyll share an uncanny similarity. Look around his place and you’ll see that Joe has found a thousand ways to honor the connection between plants and people suggested by that bit of biochemical lore.



Forty years ago, Joe Hollis moved off the grid and onto two acres of land bordering the Pisgah National Forest, where he started building a collection of useful plants. He didn’t stop with common plants or plants native to this area, but sought plants from similar habitats on other continents.

The closest analog to the botanical diversity of the Southern Appalachians is found in the mountains of China. The plants growing in a Smokies cove are mirrored by plants of the same genus, if not the same species, in a Chinese mountain cove:

Over 50 such genera of plants include magnolias, hickory, sassafras, ginseng, mayapple, skunk cabbage, several orchids, jack-in-the-pulpit, coffee-tree, stewartia, witch hazel, dogwoods, persimmons, hollies, sumacs, maples, and yellowood. Several animal taxa also show unique affinities with East Asian relatives, including copperheads (Agkistrodon spp.), hellbender salamanders (Cryptobranchidae family), some land snails, and paddlefish (Polyodon spathula).
[Source - http://www.eoearth.org/article/Appalachian-Blue_Ridge_forests]

In the course of gathering useful plants from around the world, Hollis put together what may be the richest collection of Chinese medicinal plants growing in the United States. On my quick tour of his gardens, I saw flowers and plants I’ve never seen and might never see again. He doesn’t merely grow the plants but has assembled a significant research library of books on the subject and has processed the plants into tinctures and dried form. For a small fee, anyone can pick and choose from the neatly arranged shelves of natural medicines grown onsite to fill a customized prescription of botanical remedies.

Interns initiate and carry out many projects at the gardens, including the construction of yurts and graceful earth-sheltered cob dwellings fashioned from little more than sticks and mud. Some might say Joe Hollis lives in the past. I would say he is a pioneer of our future.

But enough of that. Here’s more from Joe, in his own words:

Although I am always up for 'reasoning together', because only upon the bedrock of a solid understanding of where we're at will we be able to build a new world (the Greeks called this ataraxy), my real purpose here is to reach out to like-minds and reason together how to get out of this mess.

Because we are all part of the cancer.

We were born into it, it is our world, even more real to us than the real world Gaia. For all of us, 'making a living' means 'making money' - and money is the life blood of the cancer. We turn to nature for beauty, inspiration, solace; but our life support system is civilization, the State/Economy, which grows by eating away and poisoning Gaia. To recognize this is one thing (actually, a very big thing), but it's not the answer; it's just accurately defining the problem.

All we can do is walk away from it, which means, at the simplest and most obvious level, making less money every year. Without being any less (actually, in my experience more) happy and healthy. This is accomplished by fulfilling the needs formerly satisfied with money directly from the earth, like every other living creature. This activity, properly conceived, I call Paradise Gardening. In the world which I imagine, each family or, better, band, or even small village, would be the nucleus of a Paradise Garden cell.

I believe we are right now at a point where we change - or bust. We began as hunter-gatherers, from which happy and healthy state we were shanghaied by greedy men ("Civilization begins in conquest and continues in repression" - until by now most have no idea how repressed they are). Since then we have come a long way and done a lot of damage - to Gaia, to each other, to ourselves. New York City perhaps approaches in complexity the disappearing Amazon rain forest. But at least some of us have learned a lot from our mistakes.

So now, or never, the next step in human evolution, the New Age. Hunter-gatherer (who we really are) plus what we have learned from Civilization generates Paradise. The gradual development of a Paradise cell around you equals your gradual withdrawal from the cancer. I'm not talking about a way to live on earth, I'm talking about the way to live on earth, the way that is in our bones and genes: occupying our rightful and ordained niche. Of course these Paradise cells will be all different, varying with bioregions and topography and personal proclivities. What they will share is richness of diversity and fertility.

This, at the simplest and most obvious level, is the 'purpose' of Gaia: ever increasing diversity and inter-connectedness, an ever denser web of life woven around the planet. (Of course there are many other levels on which to consider the 'purpose' of Gaia, and of humans within her, and in the future which I imagine many of us would devote much of our abundant 'leisure time' to such considerations, and to practices opening ourselves to conscious communication with Gaia, but right this minute the house is on fire.) We must walk - don't run - away. Calmly, considerately, and immediately, we must begin to walk away.

We must begin to get and spend less (it wastes our powers anyway) and enjoy life more.

Grass of Parnassus

 It is the ideal time now (at least in these parts) to seek one of my favorite wildflowers, Grass of Parnassus, a flower that would be the star of any bog. I have one particular place to visit it each year, but do you think I would divulge that location on this website?  Of course not!  Instead, I offer a photograph that I took several summers ago:

Grass of Parnassus, or Bog-Star, Parnassia asarifolia, Haywood County, NC, 8/23/18  

       Grass of Parnassus

Pale star that by the lochs of Galloway,

   In wet green places ’twixt the depth and height

Dost keep thine hour while Autumn ebbs away,

   When now the moors have doffed the heather bright,

   Grass of Parnassus, flower of my delight,

How gladly with the unpermitted bay—

Garlands not mine, and leaves that not decay—

   How gladly would I twine thee if I might!

The bays are out of reach!  But far below

   The peaks forbidden of the Muses’ Hill,

Grass of Parnassus, thy returning snow

   Between September and October chill

Doth speak to me of Autumns long ago,

   And these kind faces that are with me still.

p. 1

 - Andrew Lang, ca. 1888

A Landscape of Neurological Nets Underfoot

 [From August 19, 2009]

The universe, and in particular planet Earth, is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects.
-Thomas Berry

I love a challenge and saving the Planet seems like a good one....I believe that mycelium is the neurological network of nature. Interlacing mosaics of mycelium infuse habitats with information-sharing membranes.
-Paul Stamets





I’m still sorting through the many wildflowers I’ve photographed this year, and intend to devote some study time this winter to be a better taxonomist next year. Even so, I recognize that learning to identify individual plant species unlocks only a few of the secrets of the Southern Appalachian forest.

This week I hiked a couple of miles on the Sugarland Mountain Trail, between Newfound Gap and Clingman’s Dome. In a place like this, it’s not unusual to find an abundance of epiphytes like mosses and lichens growing on trees. But at one point on this trail, you can look up and see red spruce trees that have sprouted and are growing from the broad limbs of the yellow birch trees.


Twenty feet up, red spruce trees have sprouted on the limb of a yellow birch.

That’s just a tiny example of the complex, and sometimes unexpected, relationships among the organisms of the high elevation forest. If I didn’t already recognize how little I know about forest ecology, the various mushrooms that I observed along the trail were constant reminders. As I learned only recently, mushrooms are no longer classified as plants but are included in the separate and distinct Kingdom of Fungi.

Looking at the forest as a mere collection of trees and flowers is to overlook the crucial role of saprobes and mycorrhizae. Paul Stamets calls the web of fungi that pervades the forest "a neurological net."

Recently, I read an article on myco-forestry, or “the cultivation of fungi as part of forest agriculture.” In the New Life Journal story, Zev Friedman drew the connection beween fungi and the hemlocks disappearing so rapidly from the Southern Appalachians. One mushroom, the Appalachian Reishi (Ganoderma tsugae) grows on dead hemlock trees.

According to the Friedman, the closely related Chinese Reishi (Ganoderma lucidum) is known as the "mushroom of immortality" because of its pharmacologic value:

Clinical trials have verified many effects of reishis, including potent anti-tumor (sarcoma and hepatoma) action, adaptogenic and immune stimulating qualities, and spleen cell regeneration. Reishis also seem to possess anti-hypertensive and anti-allergenic properties.

He explains how Ganoderma tsugae could be cultivated in the forest garden:

Dying hemlocks can be cut down, inoculated with reishi mycelium in May or June, and staked along the topographic contours of hills as retaining edges for paths or native medicinal plant beds, simultaneously decreasing erosion and runoff while building topsoil. The fungus decomposes the log more quickly into mulch and soil than would occur without human intervention, while producing highly valuable medicinal and edible mushrooms for many years.



The entire article is at:
https://www.thefreelibrary.com/It's+good+to+grow+mushrooms%3a+Zev+Friedman+dishes+the+dirt+on...-a0199193902

Paul Stamets has a fine article on "Permaculture with a Mycological Twist" at https://fungi.com/blogs/articles/permaculture-with-a-mycological-twist

A visionary mycologist, Stamets is one of the heroic geniuses of our day:

I see the mycelium as the Earth's natural Internet, a consciousness with which we might be able to communicate. Through cross-species interfacing, we may one day exchange information with these sentient cellular networks. Because these externalized neurological nets sense any impression upon them, from footsteps to falling tree branches, they could relay enormous amounts of data regarding the movements of all organisms through the landscape.
-Paul Stamets, Mycelium Running: How Mushrooms Can Help Save the World

Black and White

[From October 4, 2007]

A dusty box of old family photos attracted my attention recently. I’ve been taking some time to scan the photos and identify people and places pictured in the old prints. I’ve found a few photos that aren’t your usual family portraits or vacation snapshots. Here’s the story for one of those pictures....

click on photo for better view

It was a thrill to play for the Padres. The fans cheered and my feeling was it was because I was a San Diego boy making good. It had nothing to do with race. – John Ritchey

At first glance, nothing is particularly remarkable about the black-and-white photograph, a simple portrait of a visiting team, waiting to play in the World Series of the American Legion baseball league.

Growing up in Albemarle, North Carolina some years later, I knew that one of the most exciting and memorable events in the town’s history was winning the 1940 national championship in front of the home crowd. To prepare for the finals, a crew of 100 carpenters added bleachers to the little ball park. All the stores and schools in town were ordered to close early on game days. Governor Clyde R. Hoey came from Raleigh to throw out the first ball.

Thousands thronged to the games. Albemarle’s star pitcher would be known as "Lefty" for the rest of his life.

That was the legend I knew.

But only after finding the photograph of San Diego’s American Legion Post 6 team did I learn there was much more to the story. At the instant that my father, Frank Eury, snapped the shutter, one player on the second row was partially obscured from view, cap pulled down, chin in hand. The player’s name was John Ritchey.

A powerful hitter, Ritchey was 15 years old when he propelled San Diego’s title run in 1938. The team advanced to the national semifinals in Spartanburg, SC, where officials barred Ritchey and another African-American player, Nelson Manuel [second row, second from right] from the game. Nevertheless, San Diego managed to overcome the racist chicanery and took the national championship that year.

Ritchey’s coach, Mike Morrow, was a San Diego legend whose high school teams included whites, blacks and Hispanics. Well into a successful season of American Legion play in 1940, Morrow wanted to prevent a repeat of 1938's player ban. For the national semifinals played in Shelby, NC, officials did allow Ritchey and Manuel to take the field.

Following their semifinals win, San Diego moved on to the finals against Albemarle. Anticipating problems, Coach Morrow threatened to take his entire team back to California if his players were ruled ineligible.

Two days before the first game, the Charlotte Observer reported it was "understood" that officials would allow them to play. One day before the opener, the newspaper (under the headline "Colored Boys Will Start for Pacifics") added:

A telegraphic poll conducted today by a Charlotte sportscaster brought replies from many North Carolina and out-of-state towns, all requesting that the colored lads be allowed to play.

The next day, reporting on the outcome of the first game, the paper stated that Ritchey and Manuel watched from the dugout because national Legion officials made the request not to use black players.

San Diego took the first two games over Albemarle by scores of 6-5 and 3-2, but Albemarle came back to tie the series with 6-3 and 7-5 victories against the California team.

In the fifth and deciding game, Albemarle held off a frantic San Diego rally to take a 9-8 win and claim the title. Although he was not allowed to play in the finals, John Ritchey was awarded a trophy as the tournament’s leading hitter.

In a wrap-up on the series, September 7, 1940, Observer sports writer Jake Wade addressed the controversy:

A crowd of something like 12,500 wrote history, with frenzied emotion such as has never been witnessed in a ball park in the Carolinas.

The crowd did not always behave so nicely. Parts of the crowd, I should say. The boos for the San Diego colored boys, when Coach Mike Morrow of the Coasters ill-advisedly had them warming up, was brutal. No credit to those who were guilty in this baseball crazy, partisan-mad assembly that overflowed Efird-Wiscassett Park.

Wade concluded:

Albemarle grasped it. Lisk flicked his pitch-out. The runner on third was nailed flat-footed. The ball game was over. Albemarle’s young men were junior champions of the world. The house came down, and tonight the bells were still ringing, the horns blowing, hoarse voices still whooping. The little kingpins were being accorded a rousing salute, and no kingpins deserved one more.

Art Cohn, sports editor for the Oakland Tribune, took a harder line against the ouster of San Diego’s players:

A great club, that San Diego team. It waded through the local, State, sectional and National play-offs and loomed as a cinch for the title. Until it hit Albemarle. Then hell broke loose.

Once below the Mason and Dixon, the most un-American of prejudices, racial discrimination, reared its ugly head, and, as a result, two regulars on the San Diego team were ruled ineligible. It seems that John Ritchey and Nelson Manuel, the two boys involved, had been found guilty…of being Negroes.

Ritchey and Manuel were good enough to play with and against their white brothers in California, Arizona, and even in Shelby, North Carolina, but it was a different story in Albemarle. There the good citizens had not yet learned that the Civil War recently ended.

So San Diego took the field for the first time without Ritchey and Manuel, and San Diego was beaten for the first time. It was a great triumph for Albemarle. The village should be proud of its contribution to American tolerance.

In a 1995 interview, John Ritchey recalled his life in baseball and his disastrous trip to Albemarle:

My earliest memories are of playing baseball, because there wasn't anything else to do. Most of my friends were White. Peanuts [Henry Savin] was a Mexican kid. The others were Nelson Manuel, Billy Williams, William Indalecio, Tom and Luis Ortiz. We played sandlot ball and the San Diego Police sponsored the league. Nelson was easy going and one time he got a job selling ice cream. It only lasted for one day, because he ate too much of the ice cream he was supposed to sell. He didn't get to eat much at home. They were good times playing with my friends....

With Post 6, I was taking batting practice in Albemarle and I hit a couple of line drives over the fence. They wouldn’t let me play for the National Championship game!

During World War II, Ritchey served as a staff sergeant in the Army Corps of Engineers and earned five battle stars from duty in Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge and Berlin. After the war, Ritchey returned to baseball and led the Negro American League with a .369 batting average in 1947. The following year, he broke the color barrier in the Pacific Coast League when he joined the San Diego Padres, had seven hits in his first 11 at-bats and finished the season with a .323 average.

Although he never played in the major leagues, Ritchey enjoyed a successful baseball career until his retirement from the game in 1955. After baseball, Johnny and his wife Lydia raised a family in San Diego, where he worked as a deliveryman with Continental Bread Company for twenty years. Ritchey died in 2003 at the age of 80.

Two years later the San Diego Padres paid tribute to the "Jackie Robinson of the West Coast" by unveiling a bronze bust of John Ritchey. Tom Shanahan writes about what happened when family and friends raised money for the sculpture:

San Diego baseball historian Bill Swank came across some stories that tell us about John Ritchey as a man. "One guy said Johnny Ritchey didn’t know him, but he knew Johnny," Swank said. "He donated $200 because every time he saw Johnny around [San Diego State University] he would smile and say hello. He said he never forgot what a nice guy he was, and he knew what Johnny had been through in North Carolina."

Swank said a woman donated money because Ritchey had once rescued her from being taunted on campus by some bullies. Think about that for a moment: In 1940, Ritchey, a black man, stopped white bullies from tormenting a white girl.

"She said Johnny Ritchey’s bust should be made out of gold," Swank recalled.

Looking again at the photograph, I see nothing particularly remarkable in the image. Young ballplayers, far from home, looking a bit distracted. A team photo, not so different from thousands of others. Light and shadow of one split second from a September day, creating a picture of victory and defeat, pride and shame, back in my home town.

More at:

A Baseball Legend Worth Knowing

Interview from The Journal of San Diego History

Addendum 

After documenting this story, I contacted two distinguished aficionados of San Diego baseball history, Tom Shanahan and Bill Swank.  As a result, John Ritchey's family received a print of the photograph that prompted this article.  Also, the following year, Tom published the following article on the Voice of San Diego website:

Johnny Ritchey’s Silent Protest

Tuesday, June 17, 2008 | A little-known page of San Diego sports history, spoiled by the shameful era of Jim Crow America, resurfaced recently when a guy named Perry Eury in North Carolina dug through a dusty box of old family photographs.

Frozen in time, like a clip taken from a Ken Burns baseball documentary, is a black-and-while photograph snapped by Eury’s father. It shows a broken-hearted pose struck by Johnny Ritchey, San Diego’s least appreciated athlete in our region’s pantheon of sports legends.

The year was 1940 — seven years before Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color line with the Brooklyn Dodgers. The team photo was taken in Albemarie, N.C., a town below the Mason-Dixon Line. The event was the American Legion baseball national championship between San Diego and Albemarie.

At the time, Ritchey was a 17-year-old kid that had led the San Diego’s American Legion Post No. 6 to the national championship series. He would take home a trophy as the tournament’s leading hitter, even though he was barred from playing in the finals, a best-of-five series.

Ritchey would go on to become an historic figure as the “The Jackie Robinson of the Pacific Coast League.” And that makes this a good week, with the Padres’ Salute to the Negro Leagues Saturday night at Petco Park, to tell a story about a man not enough San Diegans appreciate.

He broke the PCL color line in 1948 for the minor-league San Diego Padres at old Lane Field. It was a year after Ritchey, a catcher, was the Negro Leagues batting champion with a .381 average for the Chicago American Giants.

A loophole in Ritchey’s contract with the American Giants, and Robinson’s barrier-breaking season, allowed the Padres to sign a hometown hero.

Ritchey had played baseball at San Diego State before he earned five battle stars in World War II. He served as a staff sergeant with the Army Corps of Engineers at Normandy, the Battle of the Bulge and Berlin.

But barriers still stood in 1940, even for a kid accustomed to playing on lineups with white, black and Hispanic teammates that were typical of legendary coach Mike Morrow’s rosters for American Legion ball and his San Diego High teams.

Upon dusting off the photo, Eury did some research, and he subsequently sent a copy to Bill Swank, a San Diego baseball historian.

At first glance, the photo appears to be a case of Eury’s father snapping the camera shutter when the players weren’t ready. Ritchey looks down, the bill of his cap pulled low to hide his face, with his chin buried in his left hand

Swank, who knew Ritchey and his personality, is convinced the pose is more than a case of an impatient athlete bored with the photographer’s pace. Swank believes Ritchey’s forlorn look was the deliberate pose. It was his way of protesting this shameful time in America.

It would be another generation before black track and field athletes Tommie Smith and John Carlos struck a defiant pose at the 1968 Olympics in Mexico City.

In 1940, the exclusion of Ritchey from the championship series wasn’t an event that caught people off-guard. Before San Diego traveled below the Mason-Dixon Line, Morrow had gained assurances that there wouldn’t be a repeat of 1938 when Ritchey and teammate Nelson Manuel, another black player for San Diego, were barred from American Legion finals. That was the year San Diego beat Spartanburg, S.C., in Spartanburg.

But a decision by national Legion officials to bar Ritchey and Manuel from the finals came after they had already played in San Diego’s semifinal victory in Shelby, N.C.

In the final, San Diego won the first two games before Albemarie won the next two and the decisive fifth game, 9-8. Ritchey and Manuel, both regulars, watched from the dugout.

Eury’s research included an account of the series published on Sept. 7 in the Charlotte Observer that was written by sports editor Jake Wade.

“A crowd of something like 12,500 wrote history, with frenzied emotion such as has never been witnessed in a ball park in the Carolinas. The crowd did not always behave so nicely. Parts of the crowd, I should say. The boos for the San Diego colored boys, when Coach Mike Morrow of the Coasters ill-advisedly had them warming up, was brutal.”

Eury’s research also found this story written by Art Cohn, sports editor for the Oakland Tribune:

“A great club, that San Diego team. It waded through the local, State, sectional and National play-offs and loomed as a cinch for the title. Until it hit Albemarle. Then hell broke loose. Once below the Mason and Dixon, the most un-American of prejudices, racial discrimination, reared its ugly head, and, as a result, two regulars on the San Diego team were ruled ineligible. It seems that John Ritchey and Nelson Manuel, the two boys involved, had been found guilty…of being Negroes. Ritchey and Manuel were good enough to play with and against their white brothers in California, Arizona, and even in Shelby, North Carolina, but it was a different story in Albemarle.”

The man known as the Jackie Robinson of the Pacific Coast League should also be the kid that led San Diego’s American Legion Post No. 6 to two national titles in 1938 and 1940.

Tom Shanahan is voiceofsandiego.org‘s sports columnist. He is the media coordinator for the San Diego Hall of Champions and an occasional writer for Chargers.com. You can e-mail him at toms@sdhoc.com. 

https://voiceofsandiego.org/2008/06/17/johnny-ritcheys-silent-protest/

To Learn a Fern (Aarnivalkea)

 [From June 27, 2010]

When I went out walking the other day, I brushed up against four or five different types of ferns within the space of fifty yards.



I was ready to return with my fern book and finally start learning their identities, yet I didn’t realize how little I know about ferns.

Maidenhair Fern, April 23, 2010.

I figured that the distinctive silhouettes of the fern fronds would be enough to arrive at a positive ID, but no. In many cases, you have to turn the fern and study the pattern of bumps, called sori, on the underside of the leaf.

A sorus (pl. sori) is a cluster of sporangia.

In ferns, these form a yellowish or brownish mass on the edge or underside of a fertile frond. In some species, they are protected during development by a scale or film of tissue called the indusium, which forms an umbrella-like cover.

Dicksonia antarctica. Picture taken by DanielCD on 17 May 2005. Picture is of the underside of a fern frond. It shows a fertile frond which is covered with sori (sing. sorus)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:SoriDicksonia.jpg

Sori occur on the sporophyte generation, the sporangia within producing haploid meiospores. As the sporongia mature, the indusium shrivels so that spore release is unimpeded. The sporangia then burst and release the spores.

The shape, arrangement, and location of the sori are often valuable clues in the identification of fern taxa. Sori may be circular or linear. They may be arranged in rows, either parallel or oblique to the costa, or randomly. Their location may be marginal or set away from the margin on the frond lamina. The presence or absence of indusium is also used to identify fern taxa.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorus

The best time to identify ferns is when the sori are fully developed. Here’s one more description of what to look for:

Many ferns bear their spore cases (also known as sporangia, sori, or fruit-dots) on the undersides of some of the leaflets—turn over the leaves and look for small dots, often brown. Other species have separate stems devoted to holding spore cases. These structures have fertile leaves that usually look like miniature versions of the larger plant but later turn brown and curly.

Identification of many of the twice-compound species requires examining placement of spore cases; comparison of sizes, shapes, veining patterns, and numbers of leaflets; and other meticulous evaluations, which obsessive botanists usually enjoy.

Read more at Suite101: How to Identify Ferns: Primitive and Beautiful Plants of Woods and Meadows http://botany.suite101.com/article.cfm/how_to_identify_ferns#ixzz0rvFoo332

Sori (containing spores) on the underside of a curling Polypodium fern.
Catskill Mountains, New York, USA
http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fern_Sori.JPG

I had already been contemplating the fractal* quality of ferns, even before stumbling onto the bit about spore cases with leaves that resemble the larger plant.

[*Fractals being processes or images that exhibit something called self-similarity, something made up of a reduced version of itself.]

Trees and ferns are fractal in nature and can be modeled on a computer by using a recursive algorithm. This recursive nature is obvious in these examples—a branch from a tree or a frond from a fern is a miniature replica of the whole: not identical, but similar in nature.

The connections between fractals and leaves are currently being used to determine how much carbon is contained in trees.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fractal#cite_note-4

Barnsley's fern computed using an iterated function system

I haven’t been back to the ferns, but I’ll find them in due time. I still don’t know much, but more than I did before.

Two lessons, for now.

One, when you look at a fern, you’re looking at mathematics in action.

And two, always look on the underside of the leaf!

The Great Smoky Mountains All Taxa Biodiversity Inventory reports 53 species of ferns representing the Pteridophyta division of plants (within the national park).
http://www.dlia.org/atbi/species/Plantae/Pteridophyta/index.shtml

Finally, as if that’s not enough reason to go out and learn a fern, there’s this:

Finnish tradition holds that one who finds the "seed" of a fern in bloom on Midsummer night will, by possession of it, be guided and be able to travel invisibly to the locations where eternally blazing Will o' the wisps called aarnivalkea mark the spot of hidden treasure. These spots are protected by a spell that prevents anyone but the fern-seed holder from ever knowing their locations.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fern

The Amazing Spiderwort

 [From June 12, 2009]

It has been great fun to get more acquainted with wildflowers this year. I only regret that I’ve waited so long to give them the attention they deserve. The past couple of weeks had been a fairly slow time for finding new flowers. As the trees leafed out and the forest canopy closed, the early spring flowers deep in the woods have faded.

Now, it’s time to look elsewhere. This week, a flower hunter could do worse than to look alongside the Blue Ridge Parkway from Balsam Gap to Waterrock Knob. Rhododendrons and flame azaleas are hard to miss, even if you’re zipping past at 45 MPH. But anyone who gets out and takes the time to look will find lots and lots of smaller flowers blooming. I’m still culling from a couple of hundred photos I took there this week.

The spiderwort, one of the few flowers I could have identified before this year, is blooming in abundance. I enjoy taking macro shots, and even though a photographer might pass up the spiderwort for more charismatic flowers, it is a splendid subject if you stop and take a closer look. Generally speaking, bright sun is not the ideal condition for taking wildflower pictures. I’ve found, though, that with flowers that lend themselves to close-ups, the bright sun helps in achieving clear, sharp results. Predictably, this is less true for white flowers. For some reasons I don’t quite understand, yellow flowers are even more difficult to photograph well in bright light, at least in my experience. That’s not a problem with the blues and purples of the spiderworts.

I had known that the spiderwort was of particular interest to botanists although I had forgotten why. They have several notable characteristics:

-The plants are easily hybridized.

-Their cell structure makes it relatively easy to observe the flow of cytoplasmic fluid through the plant.

-Due to its large chromosomes, spiderwort is the plant of choice for viewing (under a microscope) cell division in the stamen hairs.

-Old petals don’t fall from the flower, as with most plants, but seem to melt due to certain enzymes.




One of the most curious traits of the spiderwort is its response to ionizing radiation, such as gamma rays. Upon exposure, the stamen hairs which are normally blue will turn purple or pink. So the plant is studied as a natural barometer of air pollution and radiation. Less than two weeks after contamination from low “safe” doses of radiation or hazardous chemicals the stamen hairs will start to mutate and change color. Since the spiderwort can absorb toxins and store them internally, it gives a more useful measure of the cumulative effect of contamination over time, compared to other means of measuring external and temporary levels of toxins.

Reportedly, the Cherokees used the spiderwort for food and medicine. The young leaves were eaten as salad greens. The plant was mashed into a paste and rubbed onto insect bites to relieve itching and pain. The roots were used in a poultice to treat cancer. A tea made from the plant was used as a laxative and for stomachaches.

If I have identified it correctly, the spiderwort I found in such abundance along the Parkway this week was the Mountain Spiderwort, Tradescantia subaspera var. montana. Fortunately, thanks to some prior study of the wildflower guide I had known to be alert for another member of the spiderwort family. Otherwise, I might have ignored the Commelina communis as more of the same. As with the Mountain Spiderwort, this plant has three petals, but it would be easy to assume that it is missing one. While two of the petals are blue (and bluer than the Mountain Spiderworts that I’ve seen) the third petal is smaller, white, and easily overlooked. Some people call this plant Mouse Flower since the two blue petals do resemble a pair of mouse ears. But it is better known as the Common Dayflower, which refers to the blooms lasting only one day before melting away.

Spiderwort

I always see my father's eyes as blue
When spiderwort comes up in spring. I saw
It first when no one in Nebraska knew
What name it had in Gray's old botany.

None but my father. He would leave his team,
Take down the book he'd sold the seed-corn for,
Scan page, and say: "That's spiderwort." In fall,
"Oh, no, not weeds. That's blazing star." I'm glad

Except for what my mother must endure,
He left us hungry, chased some wan, wild goose;
But told me names of shepherd's purse in spring
And tumble-weed and golden-rod in fall.

- Margaret E. Haughawout (1929)

Heart of the Cowees - A Wildflower Walk in May

Sunday afternoon, I crossed to the other side of the mountain for a quick wildflower ramble.  At an elevation of 3400' +/- and near the crest of the Cowees, the area abounds in spring wildflowers.  The site's unusual geology contributes to extraordinary plant diversity.  In Western NC, limestone outcrops are uncommon compared to the acidic bedrock underlying most of the region.  Higher calcium levels in the soil are optimal for species requiring less acidity.  The cast of characters is not the usual bunch.  For anyone attuned to the subtleties of plant communities, even just a little, it is like stepping into a different world.

Forgive the marginal quality of the photos, but I had limited time for this expedition.  It was shoot-and-run.  And dodge the rain!  From start to finish, in a span of 63 minutes, these are the species encountered, in the order I found them.  Regarding the annotations, in case anyone asks, it is  "folklore" and not medical advice.

Pink Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium acaule) Orchis family. 

Usually found near pines and that was the case for this one. I've been visiting this colony almost every year for the past decade, and it has stayed fairly constant in size.  From what  I saw, this was the last one in bloom.  Cypripedium does not reproduce or transplant well, so it must not be picked or dug.  The arrangement of the pouch-like bloom poses an obstacle for bumble-bees and other pollinators, and the flower doesn't provide nectar, so after pollinating a few flowers, the bees determine that the reward is not worth the effort.  Hence, pollination rates are relatively low.  And the seeds rely upon the the presence of specific soil fungi in order to thrive.  

Once called "American Valerian" for its sedative properties, it was used in the 19th century for nervous headaches, insomnia and hysteria.   Due to its scarcity, it should NOT be harvested for medicinal use.

False Hellebore (Veratrum viride)  Lily family. 

The species pictured here grows abundantly this time of year, but I've never succeeded in comfirming a proper ID.  Seeing a reference to false hellebore prior to my plant walk, I thought the mystery was over.  Now, I'm still not sure.  The leaves of Veratrum viride appear to be more deeply grooved or pleated than the leaves on this plant.  I've never managed to find it while in bloom, so that has stymied me.  I had always thought it to be a lily, and Veratrum viride is indeed in the lily family.  The leaves of the V. viride wither away before summer, so I need to keep close watch on it the next few weeks.  

If it is false hellebore, then it is a no-go medicinally.  In the past, alkaloids from the plant were extracted for use as a hypertensive, but this is nothing to play around with.  The leaves and roots are extremely toxic.  As the (questionable) legend goes, Native American braves would consume the plant and the ones who survived were considered sufficiently robust to become leaders. 

 

Wild Geranium, or, Crane's Bill (Geranium maculatum)  Geranium family. 

This is one of the most prevalent wildflowers in these parts during April and May.  The beak-like capsule at the flower is the reason it is called Crane's Bill, and the Greek word for crane, "geranos," is the origin of the genus name.  

The tannin-rich root has many uses: astringent and styptic, it has been used to stop bleeding and to treat diarrhea, dysentery, piles, gum disease, kidney and stomach problems.  It has been used externally as a cancer treatment.  The powdered root has been used to treat canker sores.

Foam Flower (Tiarella cordifolia) Saxifrage family.

This fairly common flower spreads by underground stems in shady areas. I often see it near the banks of brooks and streams and other moist places.  

Native Americans used a tea from the leaves as mouthwash and as a remedy for eye ailments.  Root tea was a diuretic. And it was used as a poultice on wounds.  Its tannic content is likely the reason for its effectiveness.

Black Cohosh, or, Black Snakeroot, or, Fairy Candle, among other common names (Actaea racemosa)  Buttercup family. 

The foliage and overall posture of the plant make it quite distinctive this time of year.  It will send up long , showy spikes of white flowers soon, which makes the designation "Fairy Candle" appropriate.  In my experience around here, this is more abundant than the Blue Cohosh (Caulophyllum thalictroides) and the two are not closely related.  

Research confirms that the plant has estrogenic, hypoglycemic, sedative and anti-inflammatory effects.  Tinctures have been used for bronchitis, fevers, lumbago, rheumatism, snakebite and menstrual difficulties.  There is a long history of using extracts from the rhizomes and roots for medicinal purposes.  Various saponins, cimifugic acids and other phenol carboxylic acids, are among the phytochemicals that make the plant extracts powerful and versatile remedies for many ailments.  At one time, the wild-harvested plants were important in the Southern Appalachian herbal industry, and some people are now growing the plants to supply demand for the roots.

Common Cinquefoil (Potentilla simplex) Rose family. 

I don't believe I have encountered this species as often as I have some of its close relatives, like Dwarf Cinquefoil (Potentilla canadensis), Sulphur Cinquefoil (Potentilla recta), Indian Strawberry (Duchesna indica), and Wild Strawberry (Fragaria virginiana).  

An astringent tea made from the roots has been used as a remedy for diarrhea.

Sweet Shrub, or, Carolina Allspice (Calycanthus floridus)  Calycanthus family.  

When I was growing up in the Piedmont, we had one small specimen of this plant and my father liked it a great deal.  I wonder if it reminded him of his trips to the mountains, where it grows quite well. Everytime I see the plant, I think of my dad, and share his fondness for the unusual blossoms and their spicy fragrance.  

Cherokees used a tea from the bark and roots as an emetic and diuretic, and as drops to restore failing eyesight.  However, the plant might be toxic to grazing cattle.

Pipevine, or, Dutchman's Pipe (Aristolochia macrophylla)  Birthwort family.

I took the picture just because I enjoyed the heart shaped leaves and didn't intend to include it on the list.  But on further review, it should be here, although I'm not 100% certain about the ID.  Pipevine is a common plant in natural communities like this one, but I've only seen the flowers once before, at Jones Gap (above the Cullasaja River) on May 1 several years ago.  It is worth making a special trip to see the odd flowers, which bear a slight resemblance to the reddish-brown flowers of Wild Ginger (a relative).  Scent attracts small flies and other insects to the flower, and once inside the "pipe" closes around them, the flower stops giving off a scent, pollen is released onto the insects, and a day or so later the pipe opens to free the trapped bugs.  

The plant has a connection to the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly (Battus philenor) which, from my view, is the most common butterfly in these parts.  Many members of the genus Aristolochia are host plants for the larvae of Pipevine Swallowtails.  

Traditionally, the plant's compounds (aristolochic acids, among others) were deemed useful in child birth, hence the name "Birthwort" has been used for this and closely related plants.  The genus name is derived from Greek roots "aristos" meaning "best" and "lochia" meaning "child birth."  Other applications include the treatment of snake bite, gastrointestinal problems, respiratory problems, tumors, wounds, infectious diseases, and fever.  

Another species in the genus is a more potent source of medicinal compounds: Virginia Snakeroot (Aristolochia serpentaria).  And now we are getting close to the origins of the derisive term "snakeoil salesman."  An extract of the Southwestern Pipevine (Aristolochia watsonii) was the main ingredient in the oil sold by traveling “snakeroot doctors” at medicine shows in the Old West during the 19th century.  And we've all seen those cagey codgers in our favorite Westerns.  

Umbrella Leaf (Podophyllum cymosum, formerly Diphylleia cymosum) Burberry family. 

This plant, with leaves up to about one foot across, is not very common.  These were growing in a low space, down a bank, next to a trickle of water.  And that describes the habitat where I last saw this species, a few years ago, on the Blue Ridge Parkway, near Waterrock Knob. The white blooms on these plants were almost spent, and soon we'll see the fruits (shiny blue berries on stems that will turn red).  Another member of the genus is the Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum), and there are some vigorous patches of that plant nearby.  The natural range of Umbrella Leaf is limited to the Southern Appalachians - it prefers elevations of 3000-5000', but I see that the state extension service recommends the species for home landscapes, if conditions are suitable.  

The Cherokees used a root tea to induce sweating.  It is also considered diuretic and antiseptic.  However, toxicity is a concern with this plant.  Extracts from closely related Chinese plants and from the Mayapple have been used as cancer treatments.  But, to repeat, toxicity is a concern with these plants. 

 

Mountain Bugbane (Cimicifuga americana) Buttercup family.  

Here is another "maybe.'  A couple of minutes earlier, I had seen (what I assume to be) Black Cohosh, and I thought this was another one.  But on looking at the photos, I'm inclined to think this is a different plant, due to subtle differences in the leaves.  Black Cohosh and Mountain Bugbane are quite similar, and when they bloom it will be much easier to confirm my initial IDs.  The flower parts of the two species are distinctly different, if you know what to look for.  The quick trick is to smell the flowers.  Black Cohosh has a very strong odor to attract Carrion Beetles for pollination.  Mountain Bugbane lacks that powerful aroma.

Allegheny Mountain Buttercup (Ranunculus allegheniensis)  Buttercup family.  

It is wishful thinking on my part to list this rare Allegheny Mountain Buttercup, but you can't fault a guy for hoping. The fact is, I'm not sure about the species on this one.  I need to revisit the plant for a closer look and do some more research. It may very well be a Tall Buttercup (R. acris) but I need to see the basal leaves again.  

Medicinally, the fresh leaves and poulticed roots have been used to treat neuralgia, boils and absesses.  But the plant is extremely acrid and will damage tender mucosa. Wild animals that nibble the plant promptly learn their lesson and avoid it.

Rue Anemone (Thalictrum thalictroids)...or is it Early Meadowrue (Thalictrum dioicum)...no,no, it is Brook Meadowrue (Thalictrum clavatum) Buttercup family.  

I reflexively thought, "rue anemone" as soon as I saw the leaves of this plants.  But the more I examined it, the less convinced I was.  The plants and leaves are larger than I recall and the growth habit is different, this is more of a spreading clump with flowers above the leafy mass.  

[I'm revisiting these notes after further study.  Looking at the photo, I began to think that I had two different flowers here, the foliage of some type of rue, and then seperate white flowers growing up  through the rue foliage.  But, no, it is all one plant after all and quite clearly Brook Meadowrue, aka Cliff Meadowrue, aka Lady Rue.  The flowers lack petals - the showy white parts are sepals and the seeds are shaped like crescent moons.  This plant has a very limited range, from Virginia to north Georgia, and is usually found near seepage slopes, wet cliffs and the banks of brooks.]  

The genus name, Thalictrum, comes from the Greek word describing a plant with divided leaves.  "Dioicum" means "two houses" and refers to the fact that male and female flowers grow on separate plants.  The story goes that Native Americans would stealthily sprinkle Thalictrum seeds into the food of quarreling couples to facilitate their reconciliation.  

Medically, the sap of the plant has been used to burn corns off the feet.  And native people prepared root tea to treat diarrhea.  But the plant is considered toxic.

Sharp-lobed Hepatica, Liverwort (Hepatica acutiloba) Buttercup family.  

Hepatica is one of the early spring bloomers, in flower perhaps six weeks ago, alongside Spring Beauty, Toothwort, Star Chickweed, Bloodroot and other spring ephemerals.  The foliage remains and is one of my favorites to see at any time in its life cycle.  

Hepatica is often cited in discussions of the ancient "Doctrine of Signatures" which hypothesized that a plant's resemblance to a body part was a sign that it could be used to treat diseases of that organ.  Hepatica, with lobed, liver-colored leaves, resembled a liver and was used to treat liver problems.  A century ago, vast amounts of hepatica leaves were harvested for the commercial production of liver tonics.

Speckled Wood Lily, or, White Clintonia (Clintonia umbellulata)  Lily family.  

Henry David Thoreau complained that this plant genus had been named for a New York politician who lost a bid for the Presidency.  No, not HER, but DeWitt Clinton (1769-1828), an early governor of the state.  The delicate white flowers give way to shiny black berries.  

The leaves, with a cucumber-like flavor, are edible: raw when young and cooked when older.

Halberdleaf Yellow Violet (Viola hastata) Violet family.  

This is a violet with a yellow flower, but even when the flowers fade, the foliage is pleasing to the eye.  The distinctive shape of the leaf is thought to resemble the halberd, a battle-ax from the 15th and 16th centuries.  In folklore, the violet symbolizes simplicity and modesty.  

Compounds from some of the violets have been used to treat skin cancers.

Smooth Solomon's Seal (Polygonatum biflorum) Lily family.  

The flowers of this plant are arranged  all along the stem, underneath the leaves.  The white, bell-shaped flowers give way to round fruit that hang from the plant through the summer.  Almost invariably, if I encounter one of these Solomon's Seals, I will find a False Solomon's Seal nearby.  That happened again on this walk. It is easy to distinguish False Solomon's Seal, as its flowers or berries are NOT suspended along the length of the plant, but in a cluster at the tip of the stem. 

Polygonatum biflorum root tea is used to treat arthritis, indigestion, and lung ailments, and as a laxative.

False Solomon's Seal (Smilacina racemosa, aka, Maianthemum racemosum) Lily family. 

At first glance, this plant looks do different from Smooth Solomon's Seal.  They are easy to distinguish, though.  Clusters of tiny flowers are found at the tip of the False Solomon's Seal plant, and the berries develop there.  

Native Americans used the plant for some of the same purposes as P. biflorum.

Maidenhair Fern (Adiantum pedatum)  

Of course, it isn't a flowering plant, but it is not to be ignored.  The black stipes and curved form are elegant.  The name "maidenhair" actually designates the genus, and there are about 250 species of Maidenhair Ferns worldwide within the genus. The genus name is derived from a Greek word meaning "unwetted," as the fronds can shed water without becoming wet.  

This fern is said to be useful for bronchitis, coughs, menstrual difficulties.

Golden Alexander (Zizia spp.)...or is it Meadow-Parsnip (Thaspium spp.) Parsley family.  

I still have work to do on this one.  I had no clue about this when I saw it.  In my haste to avoid an impending shower (I wound up getting soaked anyhow, but it was well worth it) I did not take more pictures and gather enough information.  For one thing, the basal leaves are important for identification of species of these plants.  (It is good practice to note that in any case, as the basal leaves might be quite different from leaves higher on the stem.  The form of the umbel is noteworthy.  For the classic umbel form, think Queen-Anne's Lace, which has a cluster of flowers with a flat top.  By contrast, the flowers in this specimen radiate out in all directions.  The experts do offer one tip for distinguishing Zizia from Thaspium: "In Zizia, the central floret of each umbel is sessile (IS NOT stalked) and in Thaspium the central floret IS stalked."  From my photo, it is hard to tell what I have, and so a return visit will be necessary.  [After checking again, it seems the central floret IS stalked, which would mean this is a Meadow-Parsnip, but I'm still uncertain about the species.]

In folk traditions, these plants had many uses, such as treatment of fever, wound care and inducing sleep.  Again, there's high risk of toxicity, when used improperly.

Woodland Bluet (Houstonia purpurea) Madder family.  

I found this solitary bluet on the path.  Most people, I'm guessing, are more familiar with the shorter Common Bluet (Houstonia caerulea) which can create little carpets of blue near the overlooks on the Blue Ridge Parkway and other sites that are mowed.  Those bluets are short enough to avoid the cutting blade.  Woodland Bluets are twice as tall and have clusters of flowers, instead of just one bloom at the top of each stem.  With either plant, the individual blooms are tiny.  If one examines the Woodland Bluet more closely, he might notice that the individual flowers in the cluster are not all the same.  Some have short stamens and long pistils, others are just the opposite, an arrangement that enhances pollination.  

Cherokees used a leaf tea to prevent bed-wetting.

Common Alumroot, aka, American Sanicle (Heuchera americana) Saxifrage family.  

For whatever reason, I know it as "Coral Bells" but that name is better applied to some related cultivars that are showy landscape plants in the home garden.  

The root of Alumroot is a strong astringent, and a tea of the leaves has been used for diarrhea, dysentery, piles, and as a gargle for sore throat.  

Wood Sorrel (Oxalis montana) Wood-sorrel family.  

I'm certain about the genus, but not rock-solid convinced about the species, the reason being that the plants are so much larger than the Wood Sorrels I've seen in the past.  The sour taste of the shamrock-like leaves is the same, though.  If it is Wood Sorrel, then it should be blooming soon with flowers reminiscent of the delicately candy-striped Spring Beauty (Claytonia caroliniana) and what a lovely site that will be!  

"Sorrel" is German for "sour."  The plant is a nice addition to salads and has been a treatment for scurvy, thanks to its high Vitamin C content.  Consuming too much oxalic acid, from this or other plants, can inhibit the absorption of calcium in the body.

Vasey's Trillium (Trillium vaseyi) Lily family.  

My flower walk was an out-and-back.  I wandered for a little more than a half-mile before it was time to turn around.  And at that point I wondered what I would discover on the return trip that I had missed on first pass.  It happens.  And this flower was an easy one to miss.  Some trilliums display their blooms above the trio of leaves. Others, like the Vasey's, conceal the flower underneath the leaves.  The deep maroon color of the blossom blends into the shadows, too.  I'm so glad I saw it, because it is the largest of trilliums, and the latest to bloom.  Unlike some foul-smelling trilliums, Vasey's is pleasantly fragrant.  And while most plants in the lily family possess leaves with parallel veins, trilliums have net-veined leaves.  I had some recollection of trillium reproduction involving ants and a seven-year wait and found the story once again.  Heather McCargo details this on the Wild Seed Project website:

Six to eight weeks after the plant blooms, the seedpod ripens by suddenly softening and falling off the plant. Ants immediately carry the seeds back to their nest, eat the nutritious, fleshy white protrusion attached to the shiny, dark-brown seeds, and discard the seeds. If conditions are good (trillium likes a humus-y woodland soil with adequate moisture and shade), the seed will lie dormant and germinate after the second spring (yes, nearly two years later). At age 7, it may have its first bloom. A mature trillium plant with multiple blooming stems can be decades old. So if you see a trillium plant for sale in a nursery with pricing similar to other perennials, you can be pretty sure it was not nursery-propagated. Ask the nursery – if they cannot tell you how it was propagated, assume it was dug up in the wild. Let them know that this is unacceptable. 

https://wildseedproject.net/2015/06/where-the-wild-things-are-pink-lady-slipper-orchids-and-poachers/

Indian Cucumber Root (Medeola virginiana) Lily family.  

The genus name is a nod to Medea, a sorceress in Greek mythology.  This is always a fun plant to see, thanks to the whorls of leaves radiating out from the stem.  The ends of leaves nearest the stem, on the upper whorl, will take on a red color very soon.  

Happily, I don't need to attach a toxicity warning to this one.  The rhizome of the plant is crisp and juicy.  You can eat it raw or pickled.  I say this although I've never foraged one, preferring to leave them undisturbed.  Besides its use as a salad ingredient, Native Americans would chew the root and the spit the paste onto a hook to attract fish, and a tea from the root has been used as an anticonvulsant and as a diuretic for dropsy, which is quaint word once used for what we call "edema" or fluid build-up in the body.  

Nice to learn the real meaning of "dropsy."  When I was a kid, and an item would slip from someone's hand and hit the floor, they were liable to quip, "Oops, I've got dropsy."

That's it for notes from a Sunday afternoon wildflower stroll.  Grateful I am to reside in the midst of one of the paramount "botany schools" on the planet.  That, in part, is what makes the Cowees the Cowees.