Surprise Snow at Fort Hill State Memorial

This past Sunday saw your blogger and a few botanical buddies in Dan Boone, Duane Hook, and Solomon Gamboa (be sure to click Solomon's name and check out his own fantastic blog!) have an early morning rendezvous at Fort Hill State Memorial in the unglaciated foothills of southern Highland county.  With the weather forecast calling for mostly clear skies and temperatures in the fifties, we all went to bed the night before with dreams of a prototypical early spring foray into the spectacular mature mixed mesophytic forests, monstrous trees, and limestone gorge of arguably our state's finest natural area.  Instead my accompaniment and I awoke and arrived to a surprise late season snowfall that left a couple inches covering the ground and just about every branch, limb and twig.

Friends Dan Boone, Duane Hook, and Solomon Gamboa walking past some impressive tuliptrees atop the fort's plateau

After the long and arduous winter Mother Nature has taken its sweet time waking up from, it didn't come as much of a surprise we'd see the white stuff again.  We couldn't complain too much though as the surrounding scenery was accented so perfectly with the fresh powder.  Little did we know just how memorable and one-of-a-kind these particular couple inches of snow would end up being.

Expansive wetland and buttonbush swamp atop the fort's plateau (photo credit: Duane Hook)

Fort Hill's significance not only lies in its diverse and intact ecosystems but in its natural history as well.  Over 2,000 years ago a culture of Native Americans known today as the Hopewell constructed massive earthworks throughout this region of the state in the forms of mounds, geometric shapes, and hilltop earthworks.  These ancient peoples utilized Fort Hill's naturally-occurring flat ridge top and enclosed/encircled the rim with an earthen wall ranging from 6 to 15 feet in height and 30 feet wide at its base.  Its circumference measures an impressive 8,600+ feet; that's over a mile and half and must have taken a long, long time to form with such limited tools.

Enormous old-growth tuliptree

old-growth beech, tuliptree, and red oak

We decided to get our blood pumping early and tackle the lung-buster of a jaunt to the top of the ridge some 400+ feet higher in elevation.  All along the upper slopes of the ridge and rim is an impressive display of old-growth tree specimens like red, white, and chestnut oaks; tuliptree; ash; and beech.  Photos on your computer screen could never even come close to relating the immensity and awe of some of the individual trees and deserve the respect of a physical visit.

Looking through the trees from the upper slopes of Fort Hill and out across the glaciated till plains

Fort Hill sits at the very edge of the Wisconsin glacier's southernmost advancement and as a result supplies some pretty spectacular views from its summit and upper slopes.  This particular view through the trees shows the flattened landscape of the till plains to the north and west.  Even 2,000 years later it's not hard to fathom what the indigenous cultures saw in Fort Hill in its intrinsic beauty and location.

White oaks among the snow

Early spring winter wonderland

Our path along the upper stretches of the ridge eventually found us entering a corridor of forest that experienced an unbelievable combination of atmospheric conditions unlike anything I'd ever seen before, at least to such an eloquent extent.

Dan standing in a dreamscape world of snow and ice

Here it was nearly the last day of March with our mission to find some early spring wildflowers finally unfurling their much anticipated petals and you'd have sworn it was still ice-locked January.  Friends and acquaintances who know Dan personally will also know he's not the biggest fan of snow, especially after the winter Ohio just crawled out of but not even he could argue with the beauty and unbelievable artistic design of it all.

Even more so than the photos of leviathan tree specimens, the video above pales in comparison to the sight and experiences of the landscape itself but it's certainly better than leaving it purely up to your imagination. For some reason the quality of the video plummets once you enlarge the window so I would suggest keeping it at the size presented on the blog for the best results even if the frame is rather small.

Wild turkey tracks

Perfectly accumulated snow

From the telltale sign of the unblemished snow on the trail and landscape, we were the first people to venture into Fort Hill that morning but we were far from the only signs of life.  Turkey tracks dotted the landscape in some parts with their signature three-toed footprints.

Duane walking towards the light...

Our hike started out under a uniformly gray and overcast sky but was quickly overrun with abundant sunshine that reflected off the snow in a brilliant fashion.  All four of us commented and agreed that none had ever seen an event or look quite like this before.  The surprises and rewards nature gives those who take the time to immerse themselves in her splendor is what has us come back time and time again.  By the time we were done with our four plus mile walkabout in the early afternoon, the temps had warmed into the upper forties and melted all the accumulated snow off the tree trunks and limbs and the most sun-exposed slopes.  In the few short hours this magical paradise of snow and ice existed, the four of us ended up being the only people to experience it and experience it we did.  I think I can speak for all of us that it will be something to fondly look back on for years and years to come.

Briar patch and snow equals art

What a brilliant blue sky!

It's amazing how something as trivial as snow could turn a typically intimidating and immense brier patch of greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia) into one of the most artistic designs and patterns I've ever personally witnessed. No flake was wasted as each one solidly stuck exactly where it fell and built up to create such splendid ice crystal sculptures.  Almost equally pleasing was the contrast of the sharp blue sky and the dazzling white virgin snow.

Limestone gorge along Baker Fork (photo credit: Duane Hook)

The ever-warming temperatures accelerated the steady drip-drip-drip of melting snow on top of our heads as we made our way out of the winter wonderland utopia and down into the limestone gorge of Baker Fork, a tributary of nearby Ohio Brush Creek.  The gorge's sheer dolomite cliff faces and bluffs are home to an assortment of rare and unusual plant species such as Sullivant's coolwort (Sullivantia sullivantii), Canada yew (Taxus canadensis), snow trillium (Trillium nivale), and the incredibly rare Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi).

Stunted and gnarled red cedars and chinkapin oaks lining the rim and gorge's walls

Upon receding into the gorge's depths the soils turn to a sweet alkaline composition and allow for calcareous appreciating species like chinkapin oak, blue ash, and red cedar to dominate.  Some of the stunted and gnarled chinkapin oaks that cling to existence along the dolomite bluffs and cliff faces hardly look their age as trees only six to seven inches in diameter have been aged to a couple centuries old.

Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi)

Thick, leathery, evergreen leaves of the Paxistima

Fort Hill's most precious and rare botanical treasure also occurs on the thin-soild limestone bluffs of the gorge as the state endangered and uber-rarity Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi).  This unusual member of the bittersweet family (Celastraceae) came to Ohio via the ancient northwest-flowing Teays River millions of years ago before its demise prior to the glacial events of the Pleistocene's ice ages.  The evergreen, trailing sub-shrub has continued to persist in relic tributary valleys of the Teays to this day where it's only known to occur here at Fort Hill and in a similar limestone bluff situation along another tributary of Ohio Brush Creek on the Edge of Appalachia further south.  Both populations are clonal colonies of great age and with any luck will continue to persist for the foreseeable future.

Your blogger photographing some snow-covered snow trillium along the gorge's bluffs  (photo credit: Duane Hook)

One of the biggest targets of our visit and hike was to see the early blooming and dainty snow trillium (Trillium nivale) known to grow in select spots along the gorge's bluffs.  True to their name, we found them in full flower despite the couple inches of overnight snow accumulated on top of them.

Snow trillium in the snow

Snow trillium (Trillium nivale)

Countless millennia of evolution and adaptation has allowed these charming and tiny wildflowers to survive spring's unpredictable weather and late blasts of snow and low temperatures.  If a couple inches were to truly do them any harm these wonders would have disappeared eons ago and not lasted to our present day and be able to lift the spirits of a weary, winter-logged botanist.

Wild leek (Allium tricoccum) emerging from their winter slumber

If snow trillium was a treat for the eyes, then the tender, freshly-emerged wild leek (Allium tricoccum) leaves were the equivalence for our noses and taste buds.  They didn't seem to mind the temporary return of winter and hopefully didn't mind a few tiresome hikers nibbling at their tastiness either.

By the time we returned back to the parking lot most of the snow had melted away and left a scene far different than we arrived to four or five hours earlier.  It was hard to believe we were in the same spot but that's the nature of the season's last ephemeral snows.  I, for one am in no rush for any more frozen precipitation and look forward to spring continuing to unfold.

A special thanks to my friend Duane who kindly lent me a camera battery when mine was discovered to be dead (always check your charge the night before no matter how sure you are that you're ok) and also for generously letting me use a few of his excellent photographs in this post!  Thanks, Duane!

Snow Trillium and Big Trees at Fort Hill

What a difference a year can make!  The calendar officially says spring but the current weather patterns claim otherwise with rain, snow, and below-average temperatures.  This time last year I was sweating in 80 degree heat looking at a whole slew of wildflowers that shouldn't have been up and blooming in late March.  Definitely not this year!  However, unless my eyes deceived me, I do believe the emergence of a few of my wildflower cohorts this past weekend was proof enough spring is indeed upon us.  This annual event is truly a joyous occasion worth celebrating as the brown drabs of winter are pierced with the first vivid greens of new growth.  Soon the world will be flooded with the faces of old friends I haven't seen in a year's time and not a moment too soon.

One of the most anticipated of spring's arrivals here in Ohio is that of the charmingly dainty snow trillium (Trillium nivale).  Your blogger decided to head out this past weekend to check on the progress of these tiny wonders at a few southern stations in Adams and Highland counties along with any other early spring bloomers that may be braving the cold.  Quite serendipitously, I happened to bump into good friend and brilliant botanist Dan Boone during my foray and was fortunate enough to spend the day hiking through one of southern Ohio's finest natural areas in his company.

Old woods in Fort Hill state memorial

Located in the unglaciated foothills of southern Highland county, Fort Hill is home to many unusual and rare plant species along with relic earthworks of the antiquated Hopewell culture.  Wandering through its mature, contiguous forests will reward the adventurous with a diverse array of ancient and impressive trees scattered throughout the steep slopes and weathered limestone gorge.

Dan standing among the quiet giants

While any time of the year is a can't miss experience, I've found winter and early spring to be the best times to soak in the intrinsic beauty and stately dimensions of any old-growth forest.  Free of their leaves and hidden canopies, the tree's gnarled forms can be fully observed and one can get a grasp on just how unique and individualized each leviathan specimen is.

Cranefly orchid over-wintering leaf

Puttyroot orchid over-wintering leaf

Believe it or not winter can also be a very helpful time to locate a few of Ohio's native orchid species.  Hiding in scattered patches among the detritus throughout the moist lower slopes of Fort Hill were the over-wintering leaves of cranefly orchid (Tipularia discolor) and puttyroot (Aplectum hyemale).  Both send up their leaves in the autumn to persist all winter, utilizing the tree's naked conditions to better soak up the plentiful rays of the sun.  It makes perfect sense to do its photosynthesizing during the less competitive winter months than during the growing season when shade and darkened under story conditions make it much more difficult.

'Evergreen' basal leaves of the downy rattlesnake-plantain orchid

Quite similar to the cranefly and puttyroot orchids strategy is that of the evergreen basal leaves of the downy rattlesnake plantain orchid (Goodyera pubescens).  Arguably our most common species of orchid in the state, it's not hard to come across some in the more dry and acidic areas of upland oak and pine forests.

Limestone gorge of Baker Fork 

Dan and I opted for the gorge trail with high hopes of finding the snow trillium in bloom along with the peculiar pollen cones of the Canada yew (Taxus canadensis) that precariously clings to the edges of the limestone bluffs along Baker Fork.  It's not just interesting flora that calls this stretch of the gorge home but also a handful of Ohio's natural rock arches carved out of the erosion-resistant Peebles dolomite.

Snow trillium (Trillium nivale) beginning to bloom

It wasn't long after entering the gorge before the miniscule tri-leaved plants of the snow trillium and their delicate unfurling petals began to dot the ground.  Few things warm my heart and soul like the spring's first wildflowers that face the frosty March mornings and greet my eyes that have starved for color through the patience of winter.

Snow trillium (Trillium nivale)

Snow trillium (Trillium nivale)

It seems appropriate that one of the very first wildflowers to break the thawing soil every year also shares the distinction of being one of your blogger's most highly anticipated and personal favorites.  Snow trillium are quite uncommon throughout Ohio and their largely Midwest and Great Lakes region distribution.  They can most frequently be found growing on the slopes and terraces along streams and rivers over shallow, gravely soil derived of limestone; especially in areas with exposed cliffs, bluffs, and ridges.

A quarter next to a snow trillium to emphasize their small stature

If any doubt remains in the minds of those who aren't sure what exactly constitutes as small in the trillium world, I think this picture will speak for itself.  No photoshop gimmicks or hijinks here!  The snow trillium really are that modestly-sized.  Hard to believe something so runty can withstand the cold and potentially harsh weather of such an early bloom time (especially this year) but survive and thrive they do!

Walter's violet (Viola walteri) basal leaves

Barren strawberry's over-wintering leaves

While scanning the area for blooming snow trillium, several other promising signs of spring could be seen popping up from underneath the decomposing leaf litter.  The greening basal leaves of the state-threatened Walter's violet (Viola walteri) happen to enjoy the thin, calcareous soils much like the snow trillium and will soon be adorned with their charming periwinkle blue flowers in a month's time.  Scattered about as well were the over-wintering leaves of the barren strawberry (Waldsteinia fragarioides), a native relative to our commercialized strawberry but much, much less satisfying and tasty.

View down the gorge valley of Baker Fork at Fort Hill

After some much deserved camera time with the lovely snow trillium it was time for the more daring aspect of our hike.  Growing quite perilously on the edges and cliff faces of the limestone bluffs above the stream were scatterings of our native yew that Dan and I wanted to inspect for their flowering pollen cones.  Unfortunately, the strong deer presence in the area limits the growth of these plants to their aforementioned parlous growing locations as Canada yew happens to be one of white-tailed deer's favorite browsing items.  Rarely do you find any in good enough shape where the deer can easily access it.

Canada yew's unopened pollen cones

Dan taking a closer look

Ah, close but no cigar, as we discovered the pollen cones to still be ever-so-slightly closed and just a warm snap's away from opening.  You can just make out the tiny, bb-like pollen cones occurring in the needle's axils of last year's woody growth.  Yew is a very common hedge shrub used in cultivation with their conspicuous autumn-time red 'berries' (called arils in botany-speak) but those are of introduced species and not Ohio's native taxon.

Greening leaves of Carex platyphylla

Dan and an old-growth blackgum tree

The continuation of our hike saw Dan and I start to scale the higher slopes of the gorge in an effort to connect with the rim trail at the top that circles around the old remains of the Hopewell earthworks.  I quickly realized the winter had significantly softened me up as my lungs and calves felt on fire as I trudged up and up and up out of the deep valley.  Luckily, the forest was full of old-growth tree specimens worth admiring and thus getting a subsequent breather.

Dan admiring the weathered remains of an American chestnut stump

One of the most intriguing aspects to the forests of Fort Hill would hardly be noticed by the casual hiker or passerby.  All throughout the upper slows and ridges of the woods were the remains of fallen logs and stumps belonging to American chestnuts (Castanea dentata) that met their fate many decades ago during the height of the blight invasion.  Extremely weather and rot-resistant, it wasn't too hard to pick out which trees were of chestnut origin.  It's such a shame to think of the billions of vitally-important mast crop trees we lost to mankind's own devices of world travel and trade.  What I wouldn't do for a time machine to travel back to the famed and storied pre-blight forests with trees over 100' tall and six to eight feet in diameter!

Dan and a mighty red oak

Dan with an impressive pignut hickory

Impressive old-growth examples of various oaks and hickories; beech; tuliptree; blackgum; ash; and sugar maple abounded that were amazing sights for sore eyes.  I understand the need and importance of lumbering and logging but for every tree we cut down, we remove its possibility of growing to such a mesmerizing size. If I had my way, I would leave many stretches of forest logging-free to allow them to mature and eventually wow future generations of hikers and appreciators at their splendor and size.  I'm incredibly thankful Fort Hill is immune from chainsaws and logging trucks.  It would be a travesty for Ohio to lose such a great natural treasure!

One helluva tuliptree!

Looking into the canopy of the mighty tuliptree

The cherry on top of the Fort Hill sundae and our climb to the top of the ridge for me was the mighty tuliptree that has graced this preserve for well over a century.  I've seen many other enormous examples of tuliptrees in other woods and natural areas but I never tire of their grandeur and timeless beauty.  There's just something to be admired and appreciated for the luck and time involved for these specimens to reach such majestic dimensions and proportions.

Looking into the next week's forecast it doesn't look like the temperatures and weather will improve much but when it does be assured I will be out in force to bring you as much of Ohio's spring as I can!  It's been a long, cold, and wet winter and the warm sunshine and lovely wildflowers certainly can't get here soon enough!