My friend Arleen and I
like to notice the comings and goings of wild plants and animals. For years I
kept a journal of first appearances of welcome spring friends like trout
lilies, Virginia waterleaf, and redwing blackbirds.
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| Some nice Web images of trout lilies. We have the white variety in our woods. |
That journal is gathering
dust, but I still watch.
It seems that every year is
different, judging by which plants thrive in the wild world. One year the
climate will favor mullein, say, or bergamot, and we’ll have a bumper crop of
those plants. (When bergamot thrives, it’s extra fun because I can say “Look at
all the bergamot! And look over there, there’s some oswego tea! Oh, hey – look at
all the bee balm! Check out that monarda! That’s a nice crop of horsemint over
there.” …And it’s all the same stuff.)
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| A nice picture of monarda (bergamot, oswego tea, bee balm, horsemint) from the Web. |
This year, most plants are
coming and going early compared to other years. For instance, I’ve been noshing
on wild black and red raspberries during my morning walks, but their season is
almost done and it’s only June 29. Typically, we Wisconsinites think of July as berry season. (As I eat the
berries, I remember my dad who used to delight in saying “Blackberries are red
when they’re green.” Then he’d laugh till he wheezed.)
This year is a wow year
for cow parsnip. It’s always a tall plant, but today I beheld a ten-foot
behemoth beside the old railroad right-of-way where I walk. I stood in silence
and stared.
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| This photo from the Web gives you an idea of how BIG cow parsnip can get. |
Different years can also
be hard on certain species. In this year’s dry June, I’ve only seen a couple of
lightning bugs. I always knew when it was my son Brian’s birthday, June 28, when
I could go outside of an evening and walk through hundreds of the tiny flying
lanterns. This year I could have missed Brian’s birthday if I were depending on
fireflies to announce it. (Mosquitoes are also rare in this dry heat. Those
pore thangs, boo hoo.)
I used to think the noting
of wildlife progression was called “phenomenology.” Only recently have I
discovered that my watching of nature is known as “phenology.” (Dang, I hate
being wrong about a word!) Phenomenology is something else that’s a lot more
philosophical. But I still prefer that word with its extra syllable – it’s as
fun to say as bananarama or lollapalooza.
One thing is for sure: there’s
a lollapalooza of nature out there to behold.
