A Bright Winter's Light

When I look out on the garden on a snow-less winter’s day I appreciate the subtle colors and textures of this dormant season. Oak leaf litter, furrowed bark, straw, grey fluff of seeds, and black beads of fern have replaced the dominance of leafy green. A blue sky framed by stark tree branches seems all the more vivid. As do a cardinal’s plumage or red twigs of dogwood. In summer months I barely notice the blue on a nuthatch wing, or yellow on a white-throated sparrow. Does the tufted titmouse always sport an orange flank? At the winter bird feeder, against a muted background, the red-bellied woodpecker and all the other hungry visitors reveal their true colors. The seed heads in the meadow have been nibbled and pecked. Now the dried grass stems catch winter breezes and late-afternoon sunbeams.

Irruption at the Feeder

Pine Siskin at the feeder

Sunflower seed and thistle mixture do not last long in the bird feeders, which I hung following the storms. A variety of birds fly in from all directions to take their turn, although a few squabbles sort out the pecking order. Chickadees and white-breasted nuthatches dash in and out for just one fat seed, chased by vociferous tufted titmice. A sedate red-bellied woodpecker takes its own sweet time, while cardinals and blue jays clear the area with their presence. Below the feeder on the ground white-throated sparrows and a lone fox sparrow perform their little skips and hops to scrap up spilt seed. This all changes when huge flocks of pine siskin descend and dominate the feeder for an hour or so at a time. This being an irruptive year for these sweet little birds, I am pleased to see them and prefer them emptying the feeder than the squirrels. 

Echinacea seed head picked clean by goldfinches

Downed Oak

The wrath of hurricane Sandy did not untangle the woods behind our house, but brought down an oak out front. The top of the tree was snapped off like a matchstick. It landed, as if placed conveniently, on our septic field without destroying car or roof or power line. It is sad to see the destruction of such a majestic tree. The downed trunk and limbs gave me an opportunity to observe the top and innards of the tree up close and reminded me of the huge amount of biomass a tree supports. Amongst the splinters and twisted sinews, which still smell sweet of freshly severed wood, you can see the heartwood and sapwood. The bark of the tree is adorned with pale green foliose lichen. Leaf buds held on the tips of twigs amongst yellowing leaves will never fulfill the promise of spring.

The season mellows

Red Admiral butterfly

There is so much to enjoy in this season of migrants and mellow yellow fruitfulness. The goldenrod flowers have faded, but there are splashes of yellow, orange and red besides turning leaf color. I have seen them on tail feathers of yellow-rumped warblers, the throat of a common yellowthroat and on the wings of migrating red admiral butterflies. The marigolds in the vegetable garden always seem to be at their prime just before they are nipped by frost. Red-osier dogwood stems (despite being chomped on by deer), chokeberry and winterberry furnish with reds. By contrast, amongst the pastel colors of the meadow, ripened seeds feed finches of muted color. Brown feathers of hen-of-the-woods fungus billow from the base of an oak tree. Today, the dark-eyed juncos returned.

Sun Medicine

Goldenrods (Solidago sp. and Euthamia sp.) bring certain vibrancy to the garden. Not just for their golden hues, but also for the myriad of insects that buzz, hover, crawl and dance all over them. In the sunshine their yellow plumes of tiny yellow flowers come alive. In just twenty minutes or so I observed a ladybug, metallic green sweat bees, a candy-striped leafhopper, a weevil, a spring azure butterfly, flower flies, solitary wasps, a sawfly and countless bumble bees. 

The Chippewa Indian name for goldenrod translates to “sun medicine” and the Latin name Solidago means, “to make whole”, owing to the plant’s many medicinal properties. For me, they heal a dark mood. Over 100 species of goldenrod are native and widespread in North America. They brighten up wooded areas, pastures, waste places and highways in the fall as golden energy prolonging summer’s warmth. In the winter when color has faded their seeds provide sustenance for sparrows, goldfinches and juncos.

Summer winds down

The sun’s angle is shifting and along with that there are some other signs of the waning summer. Ghostly reams of silk of the fall webworm (Hyphantria cunea) hang from a branch of the gray birch. Fortunately this infestation is isolated to just a few branches of the tree and will not cause too much harm. The adult is an inconspicuous small white moth native to North America.

Marasmius rotula

Mushrooms appear on woody mulch, rotting tree stumps and along shady pathways. Some are bright orange and resemble chanterelles. But I am not expert enough to ID these and throw them in a pan for a tasty treat. Clusters of the tiny pinwheel mushroom (Marasmius rotula) provide a brief glimpse of fairyland.

Common true katydid 

Pterophylla camellifolia

The evening chorus of stridulating insects has risen to the season’s crescendo. Every now and again I get a closer look at these amazing insects. This one, most probably a late juvenile male was found perching on a sunflower leaf.

Mighty Joe Pye

Several Joe Pye Weed (Eupatorium fistulosum) plants are providing an impressive 8-feet tall screen along the back fence. They have grown from tiny seedlings, which I bought in a six-pack from LINPI (Long Island Native Plant Initiative) a summer ago. The dusty pink blossom is a nectar source for bees of all shapes and sizes. The yellow tiger swallowtail butterfly seems to be particularly partial to this towering plant and I have also seen black swallowtails, Monarch butterflies, skippers and cabbage whites flutter and sip from the large round clusters of florets.

Yellow Tiger Swallowtail on Hollow-stemmed Joe Pye weed

Monarch butterflies also visit the seedlings of common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca). Their distinctive, striped larvae have been seen eating the leaves, but for some reason they do not stay on the plant long enough to pupate. The same is true of the Laugher or Marbled Tuffet Moth (Charadra deridens) larvae, which are fuzzy with long, pale hairs. I have found them on the underside of the leaves of sunflower and canna lily, although their preferred food source is beech and oak.

A flash of yellow and sweet mellifluous chirping alerts me to goldfinches in breeding plumage pecking at Echinacea seed heads. Now for a sighting of the ruby-throated hummingbird! They must surely visit the fuchsia and cardinal flower when I am not around to see them.