Celebrating Easter in Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest

One of the most memorable Easters of my life was in 2011 when I attended a solo sunrise service in Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest just across Lake Santeetlah from Robbinsville, NC.

It was part of my weekend wildflower pilgrimage in the mountains.  Easter is a fickle date since it is held in tandem with the Sunday following the first full moon after the vernal equinox.  That year would be one of the latest dates it would fall, and with time off from grad school classes, it would coincide perfectly with peak bloom in the mountains.  

I left Cherokee, NC at... well I don’t even remember when.   Probably 5:00 or 5:30 in the morning.  I drove a little over an hour until I reached the Cherohala Skyway very near my destination.  I pulled off into the Hooper Cove parking lot (elevation 3096 ft) at just before 7 am, and I watched the sunrise.  From there, I left to head to Joyce Kilmer.  

Sunrise at the Hooper Bald overlook on the Cherohala Skyway

Vibrant foliage of Rhododendron flank a stream in Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest.

But, why all the effort to visit this forest?  Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest is one of the few virgin forests left in eastern North America.  I had heard tales of the mammoth trees, and I just had to see them.   You may also wonder who Joyce Kilmer is.  He authored the poem “Trees”.  It is a fitting passage for an Easter morning spent in the woods. 

“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”

— Joyce Kilmer

Tiarella, Phlox, and a host of other perennials blanket the understory in Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest.

He died in 1918 during World War I in France, and to remember him, the New York chapter of the Veterans of Foreign Wars asked the government to name a forest in his memory in the mid–1930’s.  Around the same time, the government purchased 3,800 acres of pristine forest in North Carolina to preserve “one of the few remaining examples of the great hardwood forests that covered the slopes of the Appalachians when Columbus discovered the New World”.  It was this tract of land that would be named in his honor in July 1936.  

Fronds as far as the eye can see.

I was enraptured upon my arrival, and I saw not another soul while I walked the trail. I quickly saw why the government paid $28 an acre instead of the typical $3 or $4 an acre cost at that time.  I stood in a forest cathedral with the rays of light coming through the stained glass foliage above and the choir of songbirds singing in the broken morning.  The trees had these interesting lolly-pop crowns, few branches below from self pruning and rounded tops from crown shyness.  I suppose both those effects were due to being ancient and clustered so close together.   They were MASSIVE, over 100 feet tall, and many of these giants from this long lost era had been dated to at least 400 years old.

Hard to have scale for how massive this tree is…

…until I stand at the base.

Look at this little cutie. Viola canadensis or Canada viola. One is lovely…

…and thousands are even lovelier. Look at all those white flowers!

And, there was magic.  The forest floor was carpeted with wildflowers and natives of all kinds, and the earth-hugging tapestry shifted with habitat—ferns on one hillside, violets on another, and Tiarella and Phlox scattered along side a dry creek.  I encountered half a dozen species of Trillium.  Most were past their prime, but Trillium vaseyi and Trillium cuneatum still looked good.   

In Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest I met Carex plantaginea for the first time. Most know it by its seersuckered foliage, but I was enchanted by the inflorescences.

Adiantum and Uvularia, zig and zag.

My first encountered with the urn-shaped flowers of Gaylussacia ursina.

One of my favorite Trillium is Trillium vaseyi. I love it for its large (about the size of a camera lens cap) crimson flowers.

A close up of Trillium vaseyi.

I saw plants growing on top of fallen trees.  These nurse logs as they are called were covered with Tiarella and other flora of the forest.  And, I saw the shadows of these life forces, evidenced by the tree root stilts showing where the log’s circumference used to be.

My jaw dropped at seeing plants growing on logs for the first time. The white-flowering Tiarella cordifolia looks quite happy. These habitats must be moist to support plant growth on fallen timber.

And, here the ghost of a log can be seen. I wonder how long ago it faded into the forest floor.

When I see such sights, I am filled with wonder and awe but also a bit of sadness as I think that much of the world used to look like this virgin forest before we spoiled it.   Even some parts of the forest showed the effects from mankind.  Along the path were massive Tsuga canadensis that had fallen with trunks twisted like toothpicks.  I wondered what had caused such damage.  Later, I read how they used dynamite drilled into the trunks to explode them and mimic these snags falling from a storm.  These ancient ones had to be felled because they had died from the horrid woolly adelgid, and those near the trail had become a liability for potentially dropping detritus on pedestrians.  

Dynamite-exploded trunks of Tsuga canadensis, eastern hemlock. A few dead trees still stand.

Here’s a close up so you can see how gnarled they were.

I count 225 rings on the cross section of this fallen Tsuga canadensis. A few small sections were too faded to count, and I didn’t include them. With that error it means that this tree likely was a seedling at the founding of our country. So sad to see that we led to its demise with the introduction of the woolly adelgid.

However, even in its brokenness, visiting places such as Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest reminds me of the wonders we can still experience on this planet.  And, it resurrects the belief that we need to do all we can to protect these special treasures.  For, I too, think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.  And, a forest as lovely as Joyce Kilmer. 

A Pioneer in the Smokies

The Smoky Mountains are a magical place for me.   Always have been.  Always will be.  Probably once or twice a month I have dreams where I'm driving along the twisted roads or hiking the fabled trails.  It's my parents' fault.  They took my sister and me there when I was nine, rolled down the window, and herded clouds into the car on the high mountain tops.  I was hooked.  

I like to visit the mountains once a year or so, and last spring, Karen and I planned a visit to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park over my long Easter break.  I, of course, started searching for great places to see wildflowers, and reports for Greenbrier suggested it was peak for early spring bloom.

Greenbrier is no stranger to me.  It's one of my favorite places to visit.  When I was in grad school in Raleigh and met my family for a long weekend in Gatlinburg, I'd always pass Greenbrier on Highway 321.  Sometimes if I was a bit early, I would stop and say hi to the craggy creek.  

The Little Pigeon River gurgles through Greenbrier.

For this visit, we would be staying a bit longer in Greenbriar to hike Porters Creek trail.  I had seen pictures online of the Phacelia fimbriata (fringed phacelia) in full bloom, and the effect looked incredible, like a carpet of white wildflowers in the woodlands.     

We parked for the day along the car-crowded road, which suggested we wouldn't be alone for the hike.  We walked for about an hour passing old stone fences and traversing mighty hemlocks.  We hadn't seen many flowers in bloom till we came to a narrow bridge.   

The narrow bridge along Porter's Creek trail.  Hikers provide a sense of scale.  

However, once we crossed over, it felt a bit like entering Narnia because suddenly we were surrounded by snow!  

Where's the lamppost?!

Ok, green and white snow.  But, it was everywhere!!!  

Phacelia fimbriata o'er hill and dale

And, it continued for about a quarter of a mile.  It was breathtaking to see so many of one organism en masse.  

A moss-covered log rests in a blanket of Phacelia

Some of it even grew on rocks.  

Fringed phacelia thrive on a boulder, no doubt supported by a layer of detritus and abundant rainfall during the winter and early spring.  

A close up of Phacelia fimbriata.  The flowers were about the size of a dime.  

Much like footsteps on fresh fallen snow, a trodden path manifests through the Phacelia.  

In horticulture design we discuss how the effect of repetition is calming and creates harmony in the landscape.  In fact, just a few weeks ago I shared with my class that seeing the same plant used multiple times in the landscape creates a sense of comfort.  Much like when you travel to a foreign place and see familiar logos or icons. 

So, why so many of one organism?  No human planted this monoculture.  This is nature. 

From my environmental biology background, I learned to ask the question why does a species grow this way?  There have been efforts to classify plants based on their survival strategies, and Grime's universal adaptive strategy theory groups plants broadly into three different categories.  

• COMPETITORS are plants that take advantages of any and all resources they can muster.  They grow tall and wide to take out the competition.  Usually these stalwarts are perennial in nature.

• STRESS-TOLERANTS are plants that have adaptations to ensure survival when stress arises and conditions deteriorate.  They are usually perennial and can take many years to flower from seed.  

• PIONEERS (aka RUDERALS) are short-lived annuals or biennials that are frequently exposed to some type of disturbance, which has selected for plants that quickly produce seed.  

Like most human-made models, plants don't fit neatly into these classifications.  Most plants are a blend of at least two strategies, much like you see below.  

This figure from Pierce et al. (2013) illustrates how one can classify plants as competitors, stress-tolerant, or pioneers/ruderals.  The placement of the symbol equates to what percentage of each strategy each plant exhibits.  

But, thinking about these survival strategies can help us anticipate how plants will perform over time in our gardens.  They help us understand why stress-tolerant Trillium can take several years to flower from seed, or why pioneer Gaillardia can die in our gardens after a few years.  (If you want to read more about Grime's theory, might I suggest Planting in a Post Wild World by Thomas Rainer and Claudia West and Garden Flora by Noel Kingsbury).

In the case of the Phacelia that surrounded us on Porters Creek trail, we were looking at a pioneer-type species based on its short life span and the sheer abundance of plants.  Phacelia fimbriata is a winter annual.  It germinates in the fall, flowers the following spring, and dies after spreading seed.  It also takes advantage of the full sun that filters through the barren canopies during winter and early spring.  

This environment doesn't match my traditional concept of a pioneer species before I learned of Grime's theory.  I usually associate pioneers with species that come in and colonize an area after all vegetation has been removed, and yet around us were towering trees clambering toward the climax community.  But, as Larry Weaner and Thomas Christopher discussed in Garden Revolution, sometimes disturbance only affects a layer of vegetation and not all plants are removed.  

As I began to ponder what disturbance the Smokies get, my mind immediately went to the horrible wildfires that ravaged Gatlinburg this past fall.  Research in the Smokies has shown that fires on average have happened once every 5 to 7 years between the early 1700's to about 1930.  If this pattern was the same for millennia before, it's easy to see how this species evolved to survive frequent disturbance.  

We also encountered a few other spring ephemerals along our hike, and many were like old friends.  I hadn't them seen in a while, but they still brought a smile to my face.  

Dicentra cucullaria (Dutchman's breeches). See the hole? Looks like someone forgot to patch their pantalones before hanging them out. 

Trillium grandiflorum in all its grandeur.  

The freckled petals and coffee-colored stamens of Erythronium umbilicatum (dimpled trout lily) are a delight in spring.

Anemonella thalictroides (rue anenome) occasionally dotted the forest floor.

I assumed before we went that we would see Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot) everywhere, but I only saw one in flower.  It was actually right as we were coming back to the parking lot.  

Overall, Porters Creek trail was a great hike, and we both enjoyed the beauty of the spring wildflowers.  But, the wildflowers weren't my only goal for the trip.   

I also had plans to propose to Karen the next morning after the Gatlinburg Easter sunrise service.   She said yes, and the Smokies became even more special for the both of us.