Iris and Beech

Irises abound at my new house. Eggplant purple, various combinations of purple and white, and pale blue irises have emerged over the past two weeks. Some of the stems topple under their own weight and then I cut them and bring them in the house or to work, where I get to admire them all day on my desk. The latest beauty to emerge is this yellow iris. 

Last night it was a bud. This morning it glowed in the sun. By the time I returned in late afternoon, it had fallen amidst the verbenas. 

I finally hiked to the natural area where you are supposed to have a permit (shh) to see the stand of old beeches. I walked carefully through periodic patches of poison ivy to the secret beeches. I found this one, half of which has a rotten heart yet still bears fresh green leaves. I lay under it for awhile, happy, and watched the water of Reedy Creek flow. 

Spring Ephemerals

Spring has arrived along the Piedmont creeks. 

No, you can't tell from the photo below.

But look closely at the ground as you walk. Trout lilies are beginning to bloom. 

I never heard of trout lilies until five or six years ago, when I began volunteering at the North Carolina Botanical Garden. The woman who coordinated our small crew of volunteers was crazy about spring ephemerals. The tinier the flower, the more she liked it. The trout lily flower is not quite as big as in the close-up photo below.

The speckled leaves emerge from the leaf litter in the thousands on slopes along the creeks. They're enchanting. Tiny, subtle, hard to photograph, then gone in a few weeks, leaves and all. 

Spring ephemerals don't have time to grow big blooms. They thrive in the short window between the end of winter and the emergence of leaves, which soon block the light to the forest floor. The sharp growing tip of trout lily, below, punctures a leaf. I can almost see it growing.

Here is what a trout lily looks like from above, growing at the base of a tree among wild ginger. 

Spring ephemerals remind me of fairies. I become a child again, crouching in the leaves to enter their world. Here trout lilies grow among spring beauties, one of the tiniest of tiny flowers.

Spring beauties are about the size they appear in the photo below. They have charming delicate pink stamens. 

Hepatica is hard to find, but well worth looking for. The lavender flowers emerge before the three-lobed leaves. 

Below is a windflower. 

I will join Beth at Plant Postings' meme on Lessons Learned and Donna at Gardens Eye View's meme on Seasonal Celebrations. These little flowers are a celebration. They mark the beginning of spring. 

Winter lessons learned:

1. Do not allow yourself to become so distracted by work and house (even if you have good reasons!) that you don't spend time in the garden and nature.

2. Take more walks in the woods, especially in early spring.

3. Look for the beauty in small signs of life.

4. You can grow seeds indoors under a desk lamp with a compact fluorescent bulb (no need for fancy equipment!)

5. It's a pleasure to see daffodils emerge where you didn't even remember you planted them.

Sunset Among the Trees

Nature often preempts my plans for posts. At sunset she did it again. 

We live on a hill among tall oaks, hickories and loblolly pines that for most of the year block the sky. The sunlight arrives later in the morning and departs earlier from the woods.

Tonight the clouds reflected the pink light and the trees were magic silhouettes for a few brief minutes.

No day is the same in a garden. 

Autumn Glow

Autumn is long in North Carolina. I especially appreciate that this year. I was glued to my laptop for more than two weeks finishing my thesis while the fall colors infused the leaves on warm blue days.

And now I'm done, and I find fall still here and glorious. The golden-yellow of the hickories dominates our wooded neighborhood. 

You probably won't find a hickory tree for sale in a nursery because they quickly develop long taproots and don't do well in containers. All the more reason to appreciate them if they happen to grace your property.

Dogwoods are as stunning in fall as in spring. Some turn a coral, peachy-pink color, while others become purplish-red. They hold their leaves for a long time.

Camellias are in bloom. I have mixed feelings about camellias. It somehow seems inappropriate for them to bloom when all other plants are preparing for winter. They seem alien - and they are, originating in China. Yet they are lovely in bloom. And deer don't eat them! And they don't mind clay soil! In fact, they grow so well here that sometimes they appear to be fake, with their tough, shiny leaves and scentless flowers.  Here one grows under a hickory in the front yard. It's so pretty that I want to apologize to the camellia for my disparagement.

Since finishing the thesis, I have spent time sitting in the cathedral of the woods.

Dogwoods and a serviceberry light up the garden.

Serviceberry is a lovely small tree that is native to the Southeast. The variety below is called "Autumn Brilliance."

It's too early to start raking the yard. I prefer to wait until most of the leaves have fallen.

Back in the woods, I sat for awhile under a white oak surrounded by hickories. The remaining photos were taken with the smart phone. I keep telling myself I'm going on walks to appreciate nature, not mess around with the camera. But when the light is so beautiful, and autumn is drawing to an end, I can't resist trying to preserve the moment.

The lovely horizontal branches of a dogwood glow red in the afternoon sun.

It's good to have time to spend outdoors again!