Ever since writing last week’s column on the definition of a wildflower I have been scanning the roadside looking for even the slightest trace of the first wildflower blossom. So far, I haven’t seen anything promising, although I do admit that looking for flowers while driving along at 50 to 60 mph doesn’t give one a particularly great advantage in this endeavor. I might be able to spot an early blossom and I might just as easily fly past it without noticing.
Many people are probably of the opinion that the first actual flower of the season would be that of the skunk cabbage and, to be truthful, I have seen a few of these “flowers” already. However, I suppose I am looking to be dazzled with color this year. That bouquet of flowers that I brought home for my beautiful wife, Susan, would not have triggered such a happy, smiling response if it had been a bunch of skunk cabbage flowers, no matter how much love was involved in their collection and presentation.
And so, while doing a little pleasant reading, I was not at all surprised to come across this particular passage about skunk cabbage flowers: “But, by common human consent this plebian does not count, even though the bee has long settled the question of its qualifications. It is a flower, perhaps, but not a blossom, so says the sentimental fiat.” Those words are beautiful and noticeably different from the sort of language commonly used today. The reason is that I found these words in a book that was published in 1892.
A beautiful gift from one of my readers, the book is titled, “Sharp Eyes: Fifty-two Weeks Among Insects, Birds and Flowers.” The author, Wm. Hamilton Gibson, was basically the late 19th centrury version of me; a naturalist and writer who had enough of a following to answer questions from his readers and publish a book. I find great pleasure in the idea that I am carrying the baton in a long relay race through time.
Gibson went on to identify what he thought was the first true wildflower of the spring. In his opinion it was quite obviously the hepatica and that assertion struck me like a lightning bolt. In a sudden moment of realization I remembered that I had included a photograph of a hepatica on the back cover of my first book. What a wonderful coincidence that is!
There are two plants called “hepatica” that can be found in our area: the sharp-leaved hepatica (Hepatica acutiloba) and the round-leaved hepatica (H. americana). The scientific names vary, depending on what books you refer to, but the flowers know exactly who they are. The sharp-leaved hepatica likes the rich soils near streams and also (oddly) in sandier soils. In contrast, the round-leaved hepatica is found in more acidic soils near the tops of slopes in wooded areas. One source noted that the two species can sometimes be found in the same woods where they might possibly hybridize.
This leaves me with a bit of a challenge when it comes to identifying the flower that I have provided a photo of today. I found these flowers blooming in the Green Swamp Preserve where I worked for a short time as a Preserve Steward for the Nature Conservancy. Located in Sunderland, the preserve is a beautiful place that has a swampy marsh surrounded by a coarse, rocky hillside. This is the perfect habitat for both types of hepatica and the flowers were blooming in profusion that day.
Some of the blossoms were white, while others were champagne pink, pale blue, purple and one very dark blue that really caught my eye.
The two species can be identified by their green, photosynthetic leaves. The sharp-lobed hepatica has leaves that basically look like a cloverleaf except that the sharply pointed lobes end up giving the group of three a rough, triangular look. The round-lobed hepatica looks more like a regular cloverleaf. Hybrids might show a “somewhat sharp,” or “somewhat rounded” appearance that is a blending of the two forms, so identification can be tricky. If you happen to be lucky enough to stumble upon these small jewels of early spring, I would suggest that you concentrate on the beauty of the blossoms themselves.
April is here and I am really hoping that we don’t have any “late snow nonsense” this year. A gradual warming and a gradual blooming of wonderful woodland wildflowers is what I am looking forward to and I will be very unhappy if we have snow in May as we did last year. Trout lily, colt’s food, wild columbine, marsh marigolds, bloodroot and all sorts of other flowers are cued up and waiting to bloom and I want to be out there to see them. Perhaps, if you have a similar interest, we might bump into one another as we comb the woodlands in search of flowers. That would be fun!
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 23 years and he took that picture of hepatica flowers in 1999. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, The Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and currently teaches high school biology and physics. Visit www.speakingofnature.com for more information (including his email address), or head over to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.