A Forgotten Old-Growth Woodlot

The indigenous peoples of primeval west-central Ohio would hardly know what to think of their homeland by the look of the landscape today.  What was once a sprawling, open forest marked with numerous prairie, fen, and thicket openings is now a never-ending sea of agriculture with a sprinkle of leftover, disregarded wooded islands.  These ignored woodlots are all that remains of the formerly forested landscape and barely look anything like their predecessors of yesteryear.  Small, scattered and heavily overgrown with the incredibly invasive Asian bush honeysuckle monocultures and tangles of grapevines, it's a sad sight to see when one pictures what the land must have been like a few centuries prior.  Luckily there are still a few hidden gems out there in-between the corn and soybeans, waiting for someone to take notice and dare to break through the impenetrable honeysuckle exterior and on into its forgotten beauty.

Old-growth woodlot in a sea of corn fields in west-central Ohio

The particular old-growth lot I'd like to share in this post is located in the west-central county of Clark, not too far from where your blogger grew up.  I'd driven past the woods countless times before and always peered in with the unquenchable curiosity of what, if any, big trees could be found within.  A couple falls ago I decided to slip into its depths with my camera and father in tow to have a look-see at what we could find.

Clear cut through the edge of the forest

As we approached the eastern edge of the woodlot it became quite noticeable that someone had clear cut a swath of forest out some time ago.  Unfortunately, this parcel of land is owned by a real estate developer and the clear cut strip and old logging marks spray painted on many of the wood's finest trees pay reminder to its probable fate as a subdivision.  Whether this is near or far in the future I can't say but each time I drive by and see it unchanged I breath a small sigh of relief.  If this slowed economy has had any positive effects, keeping this forest from being logged and developed is one of them.

An enormous white ash (Fraxinus americana) with blogger's father for comparison

After battling through the thick honeysuckle and osage orange perimeter our eyes met the first of this woodlot's ancient leviathans.  I've seen many white ash trees in my day but none have come even close to this forest grown monster.  The single trunk shot straight up over our heads and reached a height approaching 100' tall.  Most of the crown had long ago succumb to decay and wind/storm damage but a few forking branches still allowed it to scrape the heavens at such an impressive height.

Better view of the enormous, single trunk

I wish I had my measuring tape and clinometer with me because this ash certainly deserved to have its dimensions precisely measured.  The diameter was easily over four feet wide, perhaps even approaching five feet from certain angles!  I can't begin to imagine how old this tree may be and hope it continues to hang on for years to come.  Soon enough seeing ash of this size will be as rare American elms of similar proportions due to the emerald ash borer.

Shagbark Hickory (Carya ovata) leaves

The diversity of canopy tree species was quite impressive with a mixture of red and bur oak; shagbark and bitternut hickory; black walnut; basswood; sugar maple; white and blue ash; and beech all mixing together.  I labeled it a mixed oak/hickory forest with shagbark hickory being the most dominant species, as about one of every four trees was one.  

Large shagbark hickory rocketing into the canopy

My father told me stories about him and his dad coming to this very woods in the fall to squirrel hunt decades and decades ago when they knew the neighboring farmer who owned the plot.  The massive amounts of seasonal hickory nuts drew in crowds of red and grey squirrels looking to fatten up for the approaching winter months.  They rarely walked out unsuccessful in their hunt.  He mentioned the forest then was pure and free of any invading honeysuckle and the under story was considerably more open, but that was 40+ years ago and times had unfortunately changed.

A 'straight as an arrow' bur oak topping out at nearly 100' tall

The other most common canopy species outside the shagbark hickories was another heavy nut producer and squirrel favorite: bur oak (Quercus macrocarpa).  Their furrowed and dark barked trunks stood out against the lighter shades of grey from the beech, sugar maple, and ash.  Most of the specimens like the one pictured above had faint markings from a previous timber cruising crew that had undoubtedly found them as impressive as us, albeit for the 'wrong' reasons.

Old-growth bur oak climbing high into the canopy

Straight trunks with a slow taper and branches only beginning to appear at 40-50 feet up made for some very beautiful trees.  Each time I see a time-tested tree that has withstood decades, even centuries of harsh weather and climate conditions makes me thank mother nature for her gift and say a silent prayer to the wind that long may they avoid man's chainsaw and greedy wallets.  Trees like this aren't grown overnight and take a long, long time to replace.

Cluster of nice sized bur oaks

The deep, rich mesic soil with centuries of decomposed leaf litter made for excellent growing conditions and allowed these trees to attain such girth and lofty heights.  I plan to revisit this winter for a better, less restricted look at the forest now that all the leaves are off the trees.  I'll be sure to bring my measuring tools this time around as I'm curious just how tall some of these oaks and hickories top out at.  Even a spring visit should be in store to see if any display of wildflower ephemerals coincides with the new growing season.

A beauty of a black walnut (Juglans nigra) and something you rarely see today

Now this is something you just don't see in today's forests anymore.  This black walnut was one of a dozen or so scattered throughout the lot with straight, slightly tapering trunks that would have any logger drooling in envy.  Black walnut specimens like this all met their sawmill fates decades ago for their very valuable wood.  The one pictured here topped out at 80-90' tall with its first blemish being a fork nearly 50' up.

Massive red oak (Quercus rubra) with an equally big bur oak to the back right

The bur oaks weren't the only impressive members of the Quercus genus to grace the ever-yellowing canopy.  Red oak (Q. rubra) trees exceeding three feet in diameter weren't too uncommon but none could challenge this particular behemoth.  I love the gradual widening of the root flare in these forest-grown oaks, it really adds some character to their mighty stature.  The large tree to the back right is another example of the forest's impressive bur oaks.

The massive red oak hardly tapering as it shoots into the canopy

This is one of those trees whose height I'd really like to measure; I have a hunch it tops 100'.  The slow taper of its central column has a huge volume of wood packed into the sky and would provide quite a bit of lumber in the event of its human-caused felling.  I'm jealous of the birds and squirrels who can enjoy the views from the canopy of such a mighty being.  

Large musclewood (Carpinus caroliniana) in the under story

It wasn't just the canopy tree's dimensions that consistently impressed me; some of the under story species did as well.  Your blogger's father stands next to one of the grand examples of musclewood (Carpinus caroliniana) to be found within the woods.  Other frequent under story species included Ohio buckeye, ironwood, pawpaw, hawthorn spp., blackhaw, redbud, and spicebush.  Now, I know you're wondering about that massive tree in the background and no worries, I've saved the best for last.

An truly monstrous bur oak and the largest tree found in the forest.

Near the margins of the field lies the champion of the forest; the largest and most impressive of all its denizens.  What makes this bur oak so impressive is the clear signs of being an open-growth tree instead of forest-grown like the rest of the trees featured.  The low-hanging branches and rounded crown all point to this specimen spending a majority of its time growing in the open and stretching out its branches to catch all the sunlight it could.  

Zoomed in shot of my father and the behemoth bur oak

I have no idea how old this bur oak truly is but I wouldn't hesitate to guess at least 200-250 years old, if not more.  I suspect it was already of decent size when the land was cleared a couple centuries ago; which allowed it to relish in the endless sunshine for decades to come.  Looking at Ohio's champion bur oak measurements I already know this one doesn't compare but would still someday like to take precise measurements of its circumference, height, and spread to see how well it does stack up to our state's champs.

Walking through the corn after an excellent time in the old woods

As we walked back to the road through the corn field I glanced back at the wood lot a number of times and thought this shot really captured the stature of the monarch bur oak.  You can see its still green-leaved canopy rising up above the yellow and oranges of the shorter, but still impressive surrounding trees.  I'm sure there are more exciting big trees and discoveries to be made in this old-growth wood lot and I hope to return in the near future to see what else I can uncover.  People think they have to go far and wide to find appreciable beauty in the flat and boring west-central portion of the state but sometimes all you have to do is find a unsuspecting woodlot and step on inside its living cathedral of trees...

Looking Back on an Orchid-filled Year

Your blogger sits at his desk on a unseasonably warm fall afternoon, watching the last of the golden yellow black maple leaves swirl in the breeze out the opened window.  Each fall the tree consistently puts on a spectacular show just outside my door and this year has been no different.  Those few days of prime color and full branches can't be beat but is a sure sign the growing season has come to yet another inevitable close and leaves me with the memories and lingering excitement of the season's experiences.

Going through and organizing all my notes and checklists from the year is the final nail in the coffin for the growing season.  As I sort and compile the final number of vascular plant species I encountered on my botanical forays and romps, all the details are quickly recalled and allow me to reminisce on each outing into my beloved natural world.  Last year (2011) saw over 1,300 species grace my notes with this year falling a bit short of that number with just under 1,200.  That includes exploring all four corners of Ohio, parts of Indiana, Kentucky, Michigan, New York, and West Virginia along with quite a few miles on the Subaru.  The most anticipated and important final tally is of course the members from the Orchidaceae  family.  Likewise with my overall count, this year fell a bit short from the previous season (52) but 47 is still a mighty fine quota if you ask me!

I'd like to share some of my favorite orchid finds and experiences of the year and focus mostly on species that I have not shown on this blog before.  Some are old friends I've seen consecutive years now and never disappoint while others were personal firsts and left me with a lighter life list to chase in the future.  I've said it before but I'll say it again: there is almost nothing better than waiting all that time, getting over all the near misses, and finally making that elusive orchid's acquaintance.  My dream is to make every attempt at finding and photographing every indigenous species of orchid to North America before my time runs out.  I don't expect to ever achieve that goal but I'm more than willing to die trying!

Pink Lady's Slipper  ~  Cypripedium acaule

The season started out fast due to this past spring's hot start.  I can remember temperatures in the low 80's while photographing snow trillium (Trillium nivale) in early March.  Not exactly something one would normally expect but with the way the climate is changing, I fear it's a reality we'll be forced to get used to.  By mid-April the year's first orchids were up and blooming with the pink lady's slippers (Cypripedium acaule) leading the charge.  Despite having seen them more times than just about any orchid I'm still mesmerized by their unique structure and delicate beauty.

Spring Coralroot  ~  Corallorhiza wisteriana

Late April found me hiking the rolling hills of southwestern Ohio for the spring coralroot (Corallorhiza wisteriana) on its mesic lower slopes of deciduous forest.  Certainly much smaller and less noticeable than the pink lady's slipper but still has a charm all its own with its magenta speckled lower lip.

Small White Lady's Slipper  ~  Cypripedium candidum

Early May bestows the lucky few with one of the state's greatest moments and treasures in the small white lady's slippers (Cypripedium candidum).  This miniscule orchid has labellums (pouches) the size of a sparrow's egg and can only be found in an extremely limited number of counties in the state.  These particular plants were photographed in a hanging dolomite-limestone prairie in Adams county.

Shining Ladies'-tresses  ~  Spiranthes lucida

Not long after the small white lady's slippers have come and gone I know it's time to pay a visit to a mucky sedge meadow in nearby Pike county to see the earliest of Ohio's ladies'-tresses orchid to open up its flowers.  Scattered around the muddy seep by the dozens are the unmistakable white and yellow blooms of the shining ladies'-tresses (Spiranthes lucida).  While the Spiranthes  genus can cause some novice wildflower enthusiasts fits, this species is the easiest of all to identify by its spring bloom date and striking yellow throat.

Long-bracted Orchid  ~  Coeloglossum viride

A particular weekend in late May saw your blogger mark off two long-awaited life species in one long, road-weary day.  First up was one that won't win any beauty contests or make the normal person drive three hours to see but I've never claimed to be 'normal', especially when it comes to orchids.  The long-bracted orchid (Coeloglossum viride) is an endangered species in Ohio and one I had never been able to track down or find.  So when a friend suggested a site in northeastern Indiana, I jumped at the chance and was not disappointed in my search.  Even under close inspection its hard to see if the flowers are even open and believe it or not the photograph above shows a plant in full bloom.  The thin yellowish-green lip hanging below a darker green hood of sepals must have given someone the impression of a frog as this plant also goes by the common name of frog orchid.

Dragon's-mouth Orchid  ~  Arethusa bulbosa

Easily the most exciting and memorable of all the new orchid finds this year happened later in the day after coming across the long-bracted orchid above.  Growing in a floating sphagnum bog in southeastern Michigan was the subject of many a day dream and wish I had wanted to see for years on end with no luck.  The dragon's-mouth orchid (Arethusa bulbosa) is in my opinion one of the most stunning and perfectly sculpted wildflowers on earth.  Rising from a small bulb situated in the cold, water-saturated sphagnum below is a solitary bloom with its mythical jaws wide open and vivid pink crown situated above.  Averting one's eyes from its royal and piercing appearance is nigh on impossible, as is making the decision to depart and leave its timeless beauty behind.

Northern Tubercled Orchid  ~  Platanthera flava var. herbiola

Early June found myself ankle deep in mud and surrounded by an impenetrable cloud of mosquitos in the depths of a swamp forest in north-central Ohio.  What I paid for in blood and itchy welts was well worth the price as I looked out across a dense sea of northern tubercled orchid (Platanthera flava var. herbiola).  This small, green orchid gets its name from the small bump or tubercle at the back of the lower lip that is believed to direct its pollinators to one of the two pollinia above.

Lesser Purple Fringed Orchid  ~  Platanthera psycodes

If spring is the time of the Cypripedium  orchids then the summer months are the reign of the Platantheras.  Commonly called the 'fringed' or 'rein' orchids, these large or small wands of many individual flowers rank among the most charming and exquisite of our native wildflowers.  In the later half of June and early July, a few of Ohio's swamp forests are home to the lesser purple fringed orchid (Platanthera psycodes), a potentially-threatened species in our state.  Its dainty, purple inflorescences look like dancing angels under the darkened, murky forest canopy.

E. Prairie Fringed Orchid  ~  Platanthera leucophaea

There's no way I could pass over the chance to see my favorite of our orchids each June; especially when they are so close to my childhood home back in west-central Ohio.  The federally threatened eastern prairie fringed orchid (Platanthera leucophaea) was once more common in the wet meadows, prairies, and shorelines of Ohio and the surrounding great lake states but has been nearly eradicated by man's plow and development.  It really is hard to pick a favorite out of so many good and close friends but I am drawn to this species like none other and really have no specific reason why.  Seeing it in person should be on any botanist or naturalist's bucket list!

Greater Purple Fringed Orchid  ~  Platanthera grandiflora

Sometimes seeing a particular orchid requires one to leave Ohio behind and explore areas outside her borders to find what you're looking for.  One of those species is the greater purple fringed orchid (Platanthera grandiflora), an extirpated species in our state that hasn't graced our soils in nearly a century.  A drive down to the cranberry glades botanical area of West Virginia was just the trick to see this stunner this past late June and proved to be quite the botanical significant day.  I plan to take you along for the trip in its own blog post in the near future.

White Fringed Orchid  ~  Platanthera blephariglottis

July saw me pay a visit to good friend and brilliant naturalist/blogger Jackie in upstate New York.  There she would show me one of my other long-awaited orchid life species: the white fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis).  The huge expanse of grounded black spruce and tamarack sphagnum bog produced many gorgeous plants that I couldn't get enough of.  For a detailed look at this experience you can check out this blog post right here.

Purple Fringeless Orchid  ~  Platanthera peramoena

Upon my return to Ohio from an unforgettable time in the southern Adirondacks, I ventured out not too far from my residence in southeastern Ohio to see another one of nature's floral perfections.  Looking strikingly familiar to the aforementioned greater purple fringed orchid, this is the purple fringeless orchid (Platanthera peramoena).  Take a glance at the lower lip of each individual inflorescence and you'll see the margins are largely entire and do not exhibit any 'fringing', hence its common name.

Cranefly Orchid  ~  Tipularia discolor

Arguably one of southern Ohio's most common species of orchid is also one of the hardest to see in flower.  The cranefly orchid (Tipularia discolor) gets its name from the flower's appearance to dancing craneflies; a large, short-lived type of insect from the Tipulidae  family.  Their greenish-purple racemes of flowers bloom in late summer in the darkened under stories of deciduous forests making for a frustrating experience.  It's best to find and mark these plants in the winter when their over-wintering leaves are visible and frequently encountered, then check back on them in mid-late July to catch them blooming.  The uniform, artificial black background really helps to make this orchid stand out when photographing it.

Grass-leaved Ladies'-tresses  ~  Spiranthes vernalis

You know the orchid season is approaching wrap up time when the Spiranthes  genus starts to really kick into gear.  One of the earliest to show its face is the grass-leaved ladies'-tresses (S. vernalis), a locally frequent species in the southeastern quarter of the state.  Another common name for this orchid is the spring ladies'-tresses due to its ability to flower as early as April in the southern parts of its range.  Since it doesn't bloom until August here in Ohio I see no reason to go by that name here.

Small Ladies'-tresses  ~  Spiranthes tuberosa

One particular species of late-summer flowering orchid isn't all that uncommon but its tiny stature makes it seem impossible to find.  The adequately named small ladies'-tresses (Spiranthes tuberosa) has pure white, crystalized flowers so small you could fit four or five on your pinkie nail alone!  I wish I had my finger in the photo above to show just how small these plants are!

Autumn Coralroot  ~  Corallorhiza odontorhiza

All good times must come to an end and I know the end is nigh when I see the autumn or late coralroot (Corallorhiza odontorhiza) blooming come September and into October.  While some say you save the best for last, I could hardly say that holds true for Ohio's orchids when your last species to bloom are these guys.

2012 was an incredible season for this passionately obsessed botanist and left me only wanting more and extremely hopeful and excited for 2013.  The only thing that gets me through the dark, cold winter months is the promise I get to do this all over again next year.  I'll be here to bring it all to you and hope you follow along as I'm sure there will be more than enough to share!

Rare Plants in a Secret Prairie

This certainly isn't my first blog post to tell a tale of Adams county's ancient and mystical prairie openings and I can guarantee it won't be the last.  It's hard to stay away from such a diverse and engaging subject of Ohio's natural history and flora, especially when one spends a large amount of time combing its varying landscape.  Autumn is just as good a time as any during the growing season to visit the area's globally rare ecosystems and habitats, as they are still well alive with some of the year's last firework displays of wildflowers and tall warm-season grasses.  Come September I am always excited and anxious to pay a visit to one specific little prairie opening out of the hundreds of others to see one of Ohio's rarest vascular plants.

A particular Adams County limestone prairie with an elusive inhabitant 

At first glance this place doesn't seem to be anything different from the other countless dolomite-limestone barrens the county is widely famous for and you'd be right if you didn't know what to look for.  The rocky patches you see in the photograph above are not chunks of rock resting on the surface but rather exposed bedrock laid down over 400 million years ago during the Silurian age and known to geologists as Peebles-Dolomite.

Patch of exposed Peebles-Dolomite bedrock over 400 million years old

In many places the topsoil is only a few inches deep, making for very rugged conditions for any plant to grow in.  The soil is a type called rendzina, which is derived from weathered limestone bedrock and rich in humus, usually indicating an area that has been occupied by a grassland habitat for an extended period of time.  As time goes by and organic material builds up through decomposing plant matter, the soil becomes richer and comprised of more humus and less rock since the bedrock is slowly being covered and lost to the past.  Deep, rich soil is typical of mature forests that have had centuries, even millennia of leaf and herbaceous  decay but not so in these prairies where the organic soil layer is thin and bedrock still at the surface.  Despite the harsh reality of this environment, life has found a way to eek out an existence and cling to the shallow, rocky soil.  One of those survivors is the feature of this post and one of the most rare members of our flora.

Ear-leaved Foxglove  ~  Agalinis auriculata

Mixed in among the big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii), indian grass (Sorghastrum nutans), and little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium) lies the ear-leaved foxglove (Agalinis auriculata), a member of the figwort family (Scrophulariaceae).  A frequently used Latin synonym  for this species is Tomanthera auriculata.  Each September these plants grace this select prairie opening with their stunning pinkish-purple flowers for a couple weeks before slipping back into obscurity.

Ear-leaved Foxglove  ~  Agalinis auriculata

At first glance it's not hard to see the resemblance to other members of the Agalinis genus and its false-foxglove brethren.  The pink colored, five-lobed tube-like corollas appear in the leaf axils along the top of the stem.  Each flower only lasts a few hours before wilting and falling from the plant at the slightest touch or breeze. The buds break early in the morning and by noon are pollinated and have served their purpose for the day.  Each plant will bloom over the course of a week or so with a new set of flowers each morning until the ovary is fully fertilized and begins to mature.

Ear-leaved Foxglove  ~  Agalinis auriculata

Once pollinated the ovary quickly swells into a capsule tucked away inside the calyx and contains numerous small seeds.  The seeds mature quickly and are dispersed in late fall to over-winter and sprout in the spring.  Ear-leaved foxglove is an annual so seed production is a vital component to its continued existence and success; every plant, no matter the size, is the result of one season's growth and must complete its life cycle in that one  growing season.  A helpful trait this species has evolved to utilize is to be semi-parasitic on the roots of other nearby plants, most specifically asters (Symphyotrichum spp.).  The leaves are oppositely arranged and sessile with the upper leaves having two small lobes at the base where each leaf meets the stem.  These small lobes (auricles) or 'ears' are how the plant gets its common name ear-leaved foxglove and scientific epithet auriculata.

Ear-leaved Foxglove  ~  Agalinis auriculata

Due to being an annual, the plants put all their strength and energy into that one and only shot at flowering before giving up its ghost.  This leads to interesting results in the variation of size in flowering plants in a population.  I unfortunately caught these a bit late in the process this year and a large majority of the plants were already done and in seed but a few were still giving it one last go.  Some plants were eclipsing three feet in height and had multiple branching sections with dozens of seed pods on them while others, like this miniscule specimen above, were barely five inches tall with one bloom.

Distribution map of Agalinis auriculata (courtesy: BONAP)

The relic prairie I was standing in was just one of a handful of populations left of the ear-leaved foxglove in the state of Ohio.  The few others are well-kept secrets and scattered around the nearby area in other similar barren situations.  The original range for this species in Ohio was slim and scattered to begin with with the only records coming from Adams, Butler, Muskingnum, and Ottawa counties.  For decades the species was considered extirpated from the state and feared gone forever until a chance re-discovery in an Adams county prairie in 1985.  It had sat in the seed bank for an unknown amount of time before the right environmental conditions allowed germination.  Despite additional searching in Ottawa county, the species remains only extant in that handful of Adams county populations.  All the currently extant locations seem to be associated in one way or another with recent disturbance to the habitat, which is known to help stimulate the seed bank and allow this plant to spring forth.  Sometimes mankind's activities can have positive effects, even on something so rare as Agalinis auriculata.

Looking at the overall distribution and range of the species above shows a clustering in the 'breadbasket' region of the United States and outlying scatterings throughout the Midwest and south-central states.  Despite a good showing of records in those heartland states, many, actually most, of those counties no longer contain any existing populations of the ear-leaved foxglove.  Its affinity for mesic, rich, black-soiled tall grass prairies spelled its own doom when they were tilled and plowed for agriculture.  Today the ear-leaved foxglove is only found in about half of its original range with a majority of the remaining populations at the center of its distribution in Illinois, Iowa, and Missouri.  In response to its rarity and disappearing habitat due to succession and development/agriculture, this species is currently under consideration for federal listing.

Ear-leaved Foxglove  ~  Agalinis auriculata

There's something sentimental about being in the presence of something so beautiful and sparse.  It gives you a better appreciation for its existence and place in the natural landscape of these already special and rare ecosystems.  Apart from being the rarest denizen of this particular dolomite prairie, it was certainly not the only uncommon or charming plant to be found.  This next one is not only stimulating to the eyes but to the olfactories as well and can be found if you follow your nose...

Great Plains Ladies-tresses  ~  Spiranthes magnicamporum

I've shared the great plains ladies'-tresses (Spiranthes magnicamporum) on here before and it would seem rude to leave them out here when they are growing just a few feet away from the ear-leaved foxgloves and blooming concurrently.  As mentioned above, the odor emitted from these small crystalline flowers is deliciously sweet and refreshing and well worth a whiff.  It's not uncommon to smell these before you see them on a warm fall afternoon.

Great Plains Ladies-tresses  ~  Spiranthes magnicamporum 

One of the last species of orchid to bloom in the state, these plants are right at home in the xeric and calcareous thin soils of the dolomite prairies.  Spiranthes magnicamporum was once lumped as a variety of the infamously difficult Spiranthes cernua  complex.  In-depth research into its genetics, habitat, and phenology in the mid 1970's allowed the species to be rightfully elevated to full species status.  Its later blooming period, yellow-colored throat, strong fragrance, and dry, limestone habitat preference help separate it from the similar multiple forms of S. cernua.

Great Plains Ladies-tresses  ~  Spiranthes magnicamporum

A closer inspection of the individual inflorescences shows the lateral sepals flared away from the sides and raised just a bit above and seem to imitate the look of a charging bull.  The great plains ladies'-tresses begin to bloom in mid-September and are known to flower through October and into November after even the asters and goldenrods have called it a year.  It's hard to look at one of the last, if not the last, of the orchids to bloom and say goodbye.  For someone as passionately obsessed with that family as your blogger it's a bittersweet moment.

Great Plains Ladies-tresses  ~  Spiranthes magnicamporum

As I picked myself up off the ground from my low and close-up encounter with the great plains ladies'-tresses and dusted myself with crossed fingers the notorious chigger mites hadn't gotten me too bad, I took a look around the rest of the prairie and noticed some of the other interesting flora the habitat had to offer.  One of those quick to catch the eye was one of Ohio's only native succulent plants.

False Aloe  ~  Manfreda virginica

The fleshy, aloe-like leaves of the appropriately named false aloe (Manfreda virginica) are perfectly adapted to the dry and rough conditions of the drought-like barrens.  The tall flowering stalks waved in the breeze three to four feet above the leaves with their marble-sized seed pods turning black with maturation.  They flowered months ago in the heat and humidity of July and only have their unique leaves to show off come fall.

Rough Blazing Star  ~  Liatris aspera

Normally a well-welcomed and loved late wildflower, the rough blazing star (Liatris aspera) can become a potential downer when it's easily confused with the ear-leaved foxglove as you approach and gaze out into the grasses.  Other than the similar pink color to the flowers there's not much else to confuse the two with once getting closer to the plant.  I love all our native Liatris species but this one may be my favorite of them all.

Prairie Brome  ~  Bromus kalmii

Perhaps not the showiest or most noticeable of the plants there, the prairie brome (Bromus kalmii) deserves a closer look if for anything to see the fascinating wooly pubescence on the fruiting heads (spikelets).  Switching to the macro lens and focusing in on the lemmas and glumes reveals the interesting pattern and made for an artistic shot that turned out pretty well in my opinion.  Prairie brome is an uncommon species in Ohio and is at the southern fringe of its natural range, especially as far south as Adams county.

Prairie Orange Coneflower  ~  Rudbeckia fulgida var. fulgida

Despite peaking a couple months back in late July and early August, the prairie orange coneflower (Rudbeckia fulgida var. fulgida) was still holding on in pockets throughout the xeric landscape.  The small, deep-orange flower heads really add a spark of color and contrast to the light yellows and greens of the dominating grasses.  I look forward to publishing a post on all of Ohio's native Rudbeckia species in the near future.  They are one of my favorite genera of plants and are still a bit of a taxonomic mess.

Gray Goldenrod  ~  Solidago nemoralis

Probably the most common non-graminoid plant in the barrens was the gray goldenrod (Solidago nemoralis), a frequent and widespread species throughout the state in all sorts of dry soil situations.  It has the typical and classic goldenrod look but can be told apart relatively easily unlike a number of species.  It's short stature and unbranched,  wand-like appearance combined with a very pubescent grayish-red stem help with an ID.

With fall's climax fast approaching a gradual slip into the dull browns and grays of winter in the inevitable future I'm enjoying every second I can spend out in the field in the midst of the season's last botanical beauties and friends I won't be seeing for quite some time.  It's hard to believe another growing season is coming to an end; I swear I was admiring trillium and Virginia bluebells just the other day...

Get Yer Pawpaws!

Now's the time to lace up the hiking shoes and venture out into your nearby woods for one of the eastern deciduous forest's most delicious treats!  The tropical-like Pawpaw (Asimina triloba) is wide-spread and quite common throughout Ohio and the eastern half of the country, south of the Great Lakes.  They can be found in just about any mesic woodland, large or small.  Their tell-tale extra large, fan-like leaves portray a junglish (yes, I made that word up) appearance and make for a quick ID.  Each fall mature trees bear small clusters of the delicious fruits that are a hot commodity among the other local wildlife; including humans!

Some fist-sized, ripened pawpaws (Asimina triloba) 

Despite a hot and extremely dry summer and fall that has seen a lot of crops and fruit production fail and shrivel in the heat, it seems the pawpaw's are having a bumper crop year.  More trees in more areas are packed with fruit in greater numbers and size than I've seen before in recent memory.   One rarely sees any on the ground since woodland critters are quick to snatch them up as a tasty seasonal meal but a particular spot I visited this past weekend had hundreds on the ground waiting for consumption.

If you've never had a pawpaw before then you're truly missing out; just imagine a custardy-banana flavor and texture.  You want to catch them at their prime ripened stage, which looks like the photograph above, when the skin starts to show a small scattering of black markings and have a nice 'squish' to them.  Just as Kramer says of the avocado on Seinfeld;  "you want them soft, but not too soft".  Just be sure to spit the large, easily noticed seeds out and not ingest them.  They aren't overly dangerous to consume but are best avoided.

The particular pawpaw grove I visited in the southwestern corner of the state had some of the largest trees of the species I've ever laid eyes on.  Many of the dozens of specimens were 8-10" in diameter and  40+ feet tall.  That may not sound like much for a tree but if you know pawpaws and their generally small size, you know those are monster trees!  The surrounding old, rich limestone mesic woods of black walnut, blue ash, white ash, hackberry, kentucky coffee tree, chinkapin oak, and basswood had many other trees of impressive proportions to see throughout.  An added bonus was the healthy presence of the federally endangered running buffalo clover (Trifolium stoloniferum) scattered around the more open spaces and areas in the understory.  It allowed for an accurate and rare look at the ecological structure and species composition of the pre-settlement forests of the inner bluegrass region of Kentucky and Ohio.

With all that being said be sure to search out and enjoy some of this seasonal delights as they won't be around for long.  Once ripe they quickly fall and are devoured.  Best of luck and don't eat TOO many in one sitting as they are known to be a natural laxative in large quantities ;)

Also check out the 14th annual Pawpaw Festival outside Athens this coming weekend!