April at the JC Raulston Arboretum

This post is 4 of 12 of a series I’m doing this year reflecting back on some of my favorite plants from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum while attending graduate school at NC State in Raleigh NC. Check back next month for more.

This week was our last week of classes on campus. The end of the semester is always hectic, but it was even more so this year with the stress of the pandemic and the impact on students.

I recall back in graduate school that towards the end of the semester when things got crazy, I found myself wanting to go to the JC Raulston Arboretum to experience the plants and nature. I would go on long walks there enjoying the flowers and plant life often as a break between projects, papers, and research. And, April is certainly a good time to explore a garden as it erupts with color. It always amazed me that even though March felt full of color, April could always beat it.

April was also the first time I ever visited the JC Raulston Arboretum when I was interviewing for my graduate school position, so this month certainly holds a special place in my heart when visiting. Enjoy these photos of some of my favorite plants from the arboretum in April. I hope they inspire you to try a few new ones in your garden.

While many cherry trees struggle in the southeast, I delighted at the size of this Prunus serrulata ‘Ukon’ and its semi-double, creamy green colored flower petals. The cultivar name means turmeric.

The parade of Magnolia continued into early April at the arboretum. Magnolia × loebneri 'Leonard Messel' is beloved by many for its color and frost tolerant flowers.

Magnolia ‘Coral Lake’ is hands down one of my top five favorite Magnolia cultivars. I just love the two-tone yellow and pink color.

Another shot of Magnolia ‘Coral Lake’. It was fun watching it become a small-statured tree during my time in Raleigh.

I can’t wait to acquire some Magnolia ‘Lois’ for planting around our log cabin. Many consider this selection one of the best yellows because it is more compact and later flowering; thus, it tends to miss the freezes.

How cool is this plant!?! I was amazed when I first encountered Cornus florida subsp. urbiniana, a form from the mountains of Mexico that has fused bracts. It was one I even remembered from my first ever visit to the arboretum.

One of my last years in graduate school I discovered this Cornus florida ‘Plena’ in a hidden corner of the arboretum. This cultivar features multiple bracts. I was amazed that after being there five years and walking all over there were still plants I hadn’t noticed yet.

Another favorite dogwood was the dwarf Cornus florida ‘Suwannee Squat’. Normally I’m looking up at dogwood flowers, but with this selection, I looked down on them.

Sinojackia xylocarpa 'La Grima' is a lovely upright selection of jack tree. Doesn’t it have such a nice vase shape?

I loved standing under Sinojackia xylocarpa 'La Grima' when it was in full flower and admiring the star-shaped flowers.

Here’s one this Tennessee native loves, Cercis canadensis ‘Tennessee Pink’! The flowers have such a rich pink color, and this redbud has good vigor.

One can’t talk about the plants at the JC Raulston Arboretum and not mention the incredible development of Calycanthus × raulstonii 'Hartlage Wine'. A cross between Calycanthus floridus and Calycanthus chinensis, this cross by Richard Hartlage has incredible vigor. The flowers are larger than either parent, and I’ve heard of some plants growing over 20 feet tall.

In the old rose garden, I always admired the southern classic Rosa banksiae 'Lutea' or Lady Banks rose. Amazingly, ours on campus this year was badly burned by the sub-zero temperatures we experienced.

Isn’t this color on Rhododendron × bakeri ‘Cylo Red’ incredible? I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an intense pink on a native azalea before.

Oakleaf hydrangeas are one of my favorite, if not my most favorite, shrubs. The JC Raulston Arboretum was one of the first places I saw the gold leaf Hydrangea quercifolia ‘Little Honey’. I would end up having one of these in my apartment patio container collection for a few years after seeing it in the arboretum.

It might not look like much, but Croton alabamensis is a durable and tough shrub for the southeast. It is rare, though, and only occurs in a few counties in Alabama and Texas.

A close up of the inconspicuous flowers of Croton alabamensis

Ungnadia speciosa is a wonderful and underused native large shrub/large tree. It is called Mexican buckeye because these purple, red-bud like flowers produce capsules that produce marble-sized seed in the fall.

A close up of the flowers of Ungnadia speciosa

Many Acer palmatum have incredible spring foliage color. Don’t you just love the red-tinged margins on the gold foliage of Acer palmatum 'Orange Dream'?

I enjoy Deutzia, even though they can look a little scraggly later in the year. Most Deutzia I had seen had white flowers, but I loved the pink highlights on Deutzia scabra 'Pink Minor'.

Exochorda ‘Blizzard’ is an improved selection bred by Tom Ranney. The flowers on this pearlbush are double the size of other Exochorda cultivars.

Growing up, we had black locust on fence rows, and their white flowers in April were always a sign that spring had arrived. I loved discovering this pink form of Robinia × margaretta 'Pink Cascade'.

If you didn’t get enough Baptisia last week, here’s a shot of Baptisia alba var. alba. Again, don’t you just love the smoky purple stems?

My mom had this exact planting combination back at our house in Tennessee, a carpet of Athyrium niponicum var. pictum under Polygonatum odoratum 'Variegatum'. It is such a great color combination that will really last all growing season for much of the country.

Pulsatilla were a new species I learned from my visits to the arboretum, and I grew to love their feathery seed heads. This is Pulsatilla cernua, a species native to Asia. I learned something fascinating researching this post. Scientists have noted that the flowers go from upright to pendulous to upright again over the week and a half that the flowers are in bloom. They noted the plants likely exhibited this behavior to protect the pollen from rain.

Don’t you love how the corona color on these Narcissus 'Golden Echo' fades into the petals? They echo the gold found in the cup. Oh, breeder, I see what you did with the name there…

Seeing the beautiful Camassia leichtlinii 'Alba' reminds me that I need to try Camassia in Texas. I do love this white selection of camas or quamash.

I’m a sucker for the clusiana tulips. They look like cute lollypops you could just eat up. Here’s the peachy-colored Tulipa clusiana var. chrysantha.

And, here’s the lovely Tulipa clusiana 'Cynthia'.

And, the faded peppermint colors of Tulipa clusiana 'Lady Jane'. I’ve GOT to order some clusiana tulips for planting this fall!

I’m always enchanted by the yellow bells of the native Uvularia grandiflora.

I saved one of my favorites for last. Watching Scilla peruviana flowers unfurl was always a true spectacle to enjoy in the garden. It was like watching a firework explode over days.

And, of course, April at the JC Raulston Arboretum brings to mind their galas from years past. Will Hooker and his permaculture class built this incredible dragon one year out of bamboo to tie into the Asian theme.

Easter Weekend at Biltmore

Last year for Easter, I shared about a wonderful trip that I took to the North Carolina mountains back in 2011 over this holiday.  The highlight I shared was visiting the virgin forest Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest on Easter morning.  But, the weekend had other forays, too.

That year, Easter fell on April 24, the second latest date that Easter can be (April 25 is the latest). Colleagues had told me that the fourth weekend in April was one best times to visit Biltmore because the last of the tulips overlapped with the first of the azaleas.

If you aren’t familiar with the Biltmore estate in Asheville, North Carolina, it is an incredible place to behold. It was once home to George Vanderbilt, and the house is the largest private home in America with over 170,000 square feet! Frederick Law Olmsted designed the grounds and gardens for Vanderbilt as one of his last large projects, and Olmsted even encouraged him to grow trees. From that prompt Vanderbilt started one of the first forestry programs in the United States. While the house holds the history of the family, the gardens holds a plethora of plant delights.

In planning the weekend, I decided that visiting Biltmore early Saturday morning would fit best into the schedule because the crowds would be small.  Then, I could do wilderness jaunts the rest of the weekend. I hope you enjoy this eye candy as I relive a weekend at the Biltmore estate through this photolog.

I chuckle reflecting back on my handful of visits to Biltmore because I haven’t made it through the house yet.  For me, the gardens are what continually capture my attention.  

One of my favorite views at Biltmore is near the house looking out to the distant mountains across a vast forest. This visit the vista was a bit obscured by clouds, but the gray skies helped reduce the harsh shadows for better photography.

Up closer to the house, I admired the large Wisteria on the arbor.  Yes, I know the Asian species are quite invasive, and I always recommend planting Wisteria fructescens or Wisteria macrostachya.  But, still, it was spectacular seeing this behemoth of a planting.  

As I made my way toward the walled garden and tulip display, I passed by a beautiful mass of Hyacinthoides hispanica under this Fagus in the shrub garden.

I reached the walled garden and was mesmerized by the tulip displays.  Warm pastels were surrounded by dark purples, and in the center a ring of white and black tulips provided contrast. With all the oval flowers it was like an Easter egg hunt on steroids!

The arbor in the above image had these windows that created vistas for looking out into the garden.

A shot from the west side of the arbor. In the distance you can see the wall that gives the walled garden its name. The perennial borders that surround the color beds were also coming to life.  Each time I visit here I always enjoy seeing the combinations the gardeners have made. 

In the perennial borders, I quite liked this contrasting color combination of yellow with purple, tending toward the side of blue, flowers

A clump of Hyacinthoides hispanica emerges from a layer of Stachys byzantina.

White was a popular color used on the edges of the walled garden. Here a single flower of Lamprocapnos (Dicentra) spectabilis ‘Alba’ rests on foliage.

It was such good design to elicit harmony and repetition by pairing these similar-looking yet opposing inflorescence growth habits of this Wisteria and Baptisia.

Paeonia lactiflora 'Krinkled White' living up to its namesake with the white handkerchief petals.

On my way out of the walled garden, I passed this incredible Halesia. I so admire silverbells for their brilliant white flowers that sway in the breeze.

Leaving the walled garden and conservatory area, I entered the azalea garden. It was erupting with color during my visit.

While I like the evergreen azaleas, I really love the native ones.  There’s just something about their flowers that makes me weak in the knees. These plants are magnets for early season butterflies like swallowtails. My jaw dropped seeing these massive Rhododendron austrinum plants.

A closeup of the flowers of Rhododendron austrinum

Rhododendron canescens was a favorite of mine from back in west Tennessee, and I was impressed seeing such large shrubs here at Biltmore. They smell great, too!

Rhododendron canescens is often confused with Rhododendron periclymenoides, but Rhododendron canescens has gland-tipped hairs on the corolla tube; Rhododendron periclymenoides does not.

This visit was my first encounter with Rhododendron alabamense. This species can be identified by its white petals, yellow blotch, and lemon fragrance.

Another species I was delighted to find was Rhododendron vaseyi, a rare and at risk native azalea that occurs in 11 counties in North Carolina. I had seen it on the Blue Ridge Parkway, and here I happened upon it in the garden.

There were other azaleas I didn’t know, likely hybrids or good wild selections. I LOVE this color form. Please send me a message if you know the cultivar!

Further back from the azaleas I found a wilder area of the garden where Asarum canadense was able to form large colonies.

Osmundastrum cinnamomeum fiddleheads unfurl amongst a matrix of green, Packera, and Hyacinthoides.

A closeup of the pubescent fiddleheads of Osmundastrum cinnamomeum.

One last look at the beauty of the Biltmore gardens. Yes, mid-April is an incredible time to visit for inspiration and to witness the marvels of spring.

March at the JC Raulston Arboretum

This post is 3 of 12 of a series I’m doing this year reflecting back on some of my favorite plants from visiting the JC Raulston Arboretum while attending graduate school at NC State in Raleigh NC. Check back next month for more.

March was always a moody month in Raleigh. Well, I guess isn’t it everywhere? Some years it was filled with gorgeous days, and others it taunted the gardener with late freezes. Nevertheless, there always seemed to be plants in bloom some time during the month at the JC Raulston Arboretum. This month, I look back at some of my favorite trees, shrubs, and perennials that welcomed spring. I hope these images inspire you to try some new plants in your garden. I know learning about them helped to build my palette of plants to use for the beginning of the gardening season.

THE TREES

There was an incredible Magnolia collection at the arboretum. Here the vigorously growing Magnolia × loebneri 'Merrill' flowers in the White Garden. This selection is quite hardy up into the northern states.

One of my favorite magnolias is Magnolia × kewensis 'Wada's Memory'. I love its cut-handkerchief-like petals, and I’m considering using this cultivar around our house.

Each spring I loved seeing the floriferous Magnolia stellata 'Chrysanthemumiflora' in bloom. The pink blossoms are so voluminous, and this tree’s short stature welcomes its use in smaller gardens.

Near the Ruby McSwain center was the Asian Sassafras tzumu with its tiered branching habit classic to Sassafras species.

As the flowers fade, the new foliage emerges on Sassafras tzumu with a similar textured Yucca in the background.

J.C. raved about Halesia diptera var. magniflora and for good reason. This variety from Florida highlands features beautiful white flowers a little bigger than a thimble that cover the tree in early spring. This species does well in Texas, too.

A close up of Halesia diptera var. magniflora

I can’t wait to try Melliodendron xylocarpum in Texas. I adored this tree’s Easter egg shaped buds that would open to…

…beautiful star-shaped white flowers. I recall that some years Melliodendron xylocarpum would get burned by late freezes, but like many early spring flowering plants, planting them is certainly worth the risk.

THE SHRUBS

Exochorda racemosa is shrub that takes our heat and humidity in the south well. The little buds look like pearls, hence the name pearlbush. I always enjoyed looking at the intricacies of the flowers once they open.

Spiraea thunbergii 'Ogon' is a reliable flowering shrub that is covered with white flowers in early spring and followed by thin, golden leaves.

A subtle color echo between the emerging foliage on Spiraea thunbergii 'Ogon' and its orange pistils.

Last month I shared my love of Stachyurus. Even more plants would be flowering in March. Here Stachyurus praecox 'Issai' flowers with a Chaenomeles in the background.

There was even a Stachyurus selection—Stachyurus praecox 'Rubriflora'—that had buds and petals blushed pink.

A really interesting and uncommon shrub I learned about at the arboretum was Parrotiopsis jacquemontiana. This member of the witch hazel family would be covered in flowers in March.

In this close up of the flowers on Parrotiopsis jacquemontiana, you can see the plethora of stamens and the skirt of white bracts underneath.

Edgeworthia chrysantha was in full bloom in March many years at the arboretum. The flowers face down, likely to protect the pollen from rain.

Neviusia alabamensis is a novelty native shrub that slowly spreads via rhizomes in the garden. It is rare throughout its range, but deserves wider use for its dainty flowers.

I enjoyed the pompom flowers of Neviusia alabamensis so much that I now have this growing in my Texas garden.

The late witch hazels would still be flowering in March. Here Hamamelis mollis 'Wisley Supreme' flowers with a carpet of Narcissus underneath.

While most lilacs don’t do well in the south, Syringa × laciniata was always a beautiful bloomer in the arboretum and tolerated heat well.

The lavender flowers of Syringa × laciniata

THE PERENNIALS

I also learned about Tulipa clusiana selections at the arboretum. This species tends to do better in the south and can grow well in gravel gardens. Here ‘Cynthia’ flowers with creamy yellow and salmon petals.

Another clusiana type was ‘Peppermint Stick’, named for its red and white petals.

Don't Neglect This Muscari

Muscari neglectum is in full flower here at our homestead.  In my search for naturalizing early spring geophytes for east Texas, I heard this species would grow well for us.  I had seen yards full of it in the hill country further west in the state.  I’ve killed other grape hyacinths like Muscari armeniacum.  They’ll last for a season or two, but eventually fade.

However, this species, well, the epithet gives you an idea of the conditions this starch grape hyacinth tolerates. My plants came from an abandoned lot in town next to a makeshift parking lot. Nearby a discarded sofa and a chair sat, and being early spring, the grass and weeds hadn't grown up enough to hide the little purple bottles I spied passing by.

Late one afternoon, I decided to go dig some of the bulbs, and on a whim, I asked some students if they wanted to go help me rescue some of these geophytes.  I figured that with the numbers I saw we could even use some in our plantings on campus.

When we arrived, we discovered dense clumps of this heirloom flower. Some bulbs had found purchase under the turf but others were exposed and sitting on top of gravel and in full flower! They were surviving, dare I say even thriving in this ruderal soil. I assumed this location was where an old driveway of a house used to be. We dug a few clumps, and then made our way back to campus to parse out our new accessions.

A handful of an original clump from the abandoned lot. These Muscari are quite easy to divide; lift them and then rip apart into smaller groups.  It always amazes me how many bulbs are in one clump.

Once home, I planted them into a bed where I was already developing a cool-colored theme for spring. Planted nearby were the fuschia Glandularia canadensis and the soft blue Ipheion uniflorum. 

Muscari neglectum flowers against the backdrop of Glandularia canadensis. The burn you see on the Muscari and Gladiolus foliage is from the February freeze.

That was two years ago. Now, for much of March, these three play off each others colors and are some of the first plants to start flowering in my beds. I love watching bees of all kinds flit about the flowers.  One must get close to appreciate the finer details of the blooms, the little jugs with their white pencil-thin rims.  And, the color gradient of the raceme’s flowers is so rich as it changes from indigo below to a periwinkle top.  Once pollinated, the flowers become small tetrahedral seed capsules.

I have also planted them in our fledgling orchard on its shadier side where fewer Claytonia virginica grow.  They look like little purple rock candy suckers sticking out of the rough turf.  The darker slivers of the Muscari feel right in the dappled light, and unlike the fair-weather Claytonia virginica that only opens when the sun shines, these flowers are always on show. 

In the time since I planted my first bulbs I have watched each year as my plants multiply, both naturally and by division. I find myself pulling apart thick clumps anytime they aren’t in flower, which is easy since their bad-hair-day foliage has been up in the garden since early October. The wetter soils of winter welcome the splitting.

The leaves curl a bit, like a bad hair day

The little slivers of Muscari emerging in a bed amongst other perennials

But, I discovered something new about propagating this species last year.  Weeding one day I found a clump whose roots had been nibbled on by blasted gophers, and in pulling out what was left to reset in firm earth, I noticed that some of the bulbless leaves had roots on them!  I was amazed.  Eucomis is the only other geophyte that I know where more plants can be made via leaf cuttings, so this discovery was quite delightful.  They are both in the Asparagus family, so perhaps there is some family connection with this adaptation. I am happy to know yet another approach to making more of this great geophyte.

Adventitious roots on the bottom of Muscari leaves. Look closely and you’ll even see new bulbils.

Celebrating Emergence

The shift to spring is now palpable here at our east Texas homestead. I notice the sun's early morning rays shining more in our backyard, the temperature is hovering the in 60's or 70's most days, and spots of green are popping up in the landscape.

Emergence in the plant world is filled with such anticipation. Around us life is erupting, and it is so good to see fresh growth in a landscape scarred and burned from the extreme cold a fortnight ago.

The daffodils are up. Well, most of them are. I thought this would be a daffodil-less spring as many of the early tazetta types from the Mediterranean were bleached white. But, those that have more northern European blood seem to have made it through safely. The yellow-orange 'Ceylon' and large-cupped yellow 'Carlton' are now beginning to bloom. I noticed their buds above the snowline, but they still survived the cold. These are two Narcissus cultivars that actually do well for us here in east Texas and will increase in number with the years. Most modern hybrids just don't get adequate chilling to flower or grow well.

A bit of burn on the tips of the foliage of these ‘Ceylon’, but other than that, the cold didn’t phase them.

Narcissus pseudonarcissus are now flowering, too. They are much smaller than the varieties above, but I love their diminutive size. I recall seeing their minute buds huddled among the blue-green foliage as I scurried about preparing for the coming cold and wondering if they would survive. Seeing their buttery yellow coronas reminds me of my youth and the abandoned yards full of them on the backroads in Tennessee marking where homes once stood. Even then I would pick handfuls of them to bring their sweet scent into our house, much like I did ahead of the two inches of rain we got this past weekend.

This line of Narcissus pseudonarcissus flowers faces south, soaking in the sun.

Ahead of the rain I divided some large clumps of Narcissus pseudonarcissus and planted them into the beds near our house that I have been developing into naturalistic plantings since our arrival here a little over three years ago. These plantings needed more early spring color, and I plugged in the bulbs before the rain started amongst the emerging foliage of Pycnanthemum and a nice purple foliage form of Tradescantia gigantea I found.

I randomly scattered Narcissus pseudonarcissus into this bed over the weekend. Though I’m not done yet, my goal is to have small groupings, denser in the middle and then less bulbs on the outside.

Ahead of the rain was also a good time to move 20+ Penstemon tenuis and 30+ Penstemon digitalis plants I grew in propagation beds from last year. Both were derived from seed that I collected from plants growing here, and they were just barely beginning to produce shoots out of their basal rosettes. Now I feel like I have enough plants to make an impact come April for the purple-flowering Penstemon tenuis and May for the white-flowering Penstemon digitalis. I was surprised at how shallow their root systems were. I was able to scoop them up with a shovel almost like one would scoop lasagna out of a dish and place into a similar shaped hole.

A wheelbarrow of Penstemon digitalis ready for planting. You can see the fresh foliage beginning to pop.

Nearby other natives are emerging, and it is a real cast of characters—Arnoglossum plantagineum, Trillium ludovicianum, Antennaria parlinii, Sanguinaria canadensis, Stenanthium gramineum, and even my Sarracenia in the bog. All of them know it’s time to grow.

I delight in seeing the hosta-like foliage of Arnoglossum plantagineum. Plants have finally gotten to a decent size at our place, and soon their shoots will rise for form a white corymb of rice-shaped flowers.

I was also happy to see my Trillium ludovicianum emerging amongst the groundcover of Antennaria parlinii I planted to mark the ephemeral. You can barely see the chicken wire cage that I planted it in to protect it from the gophers that plague our property, and if you look closely, you’ll see some one-leaved baby Trillium in the center!

The fists of Sanguinaria canadensis are shoving their way out of the soil and begun to unfurl as leaves.

The slivers of foliage on Stenanthium gramineum emerge from the ground. I’ve always found their maroon sheaths near the ground to be attractive but quickly hidden by the foliage.

I squealed this weekend when I discovered the antennae-like flower buds emerging on this Sarracenia flava ‘Black Ascot’ when cutting back the pitchers.

Yes, all this fresh growth of spring is truly wonderful . Sure, we may have another frost or two along the way, but for now I will celebrate emergence and the return of my many photosynthetic friends to the garden after their long slumber. It is so good to see them again.

Beauty in the Spring

“I’m probably the only person in Texas doing this.  Well, let’s be honest, Jared.  Probably the whole US.”

I chuckled talking to myself as my shovel loosened the eighth clump of spring beauty from a bed in my vegetable patch.  With a sunny afternoon and the return of warmer temperatures, the flowers were beginning to explode and made finding them easier.  I stood up with the transplant, paused to pull off any weeds that still had purchase in the loosened soil, and reached underneath to check and make sure the corm was there and intact.  It was.  

I smiled thinking about someone else moving this plant because who would waste their time relocating these little guys?  Spring beauty by itself isn’t super showy.  The flowers are maybe the size of a dime, and they are finicky opening and closing with the day or rainy weather conditions.  However, looking up at my yard I was reminded why my fingers were coated in the warming winter muck; drifts of pale pink flowers wafted in the breeze.  And, I couldn’t stand the thought of harming any of them, even if this area was where I would be cultivating vegetables.

Claytonia virginica in full bloom gives the appearance of snow. I had plugged some Narcissus in this area earlier this fall, but I plan to relocate them. The yellow is too saturated for the pink tint of spring beauty.

I have adored spring beauty since I first observed it growing in someone’s yard down the road from our house in Tennessee.  I was amazed at this tiny white bloom that abundantly covered their entire front lawn every spring.  Why couldn’t our homeplace look like that?  I didn’t know the plant at first. I kept wanting to stop and look at it more closely to ascertain its identity, but soon I found it growing in a nearby woods and collected a few to take back to my garden.  I had turned an interesting-looking stranger into a friend by finally meeting Claytonia virginica.  

If you drove by recently and saw me laying on the ground, this photograph was why.

The few I transplanted those many years ago don’t even begin to compare with the thousands that now grow in my Texas yard.  I didn’t know they were here when I chose this location for the edible patch, hence my moving them now to a bed that needs more early spring color and vegetation.  I didn’t even know they were here at all when we bought the house in August 18 months ago!  But, when the first frost erased the turf’s chlorophyll and created a mosaic of tans, thin strips of purple foliage caught my eye.  The Claytonia was slathering on some anthocyanins for winter sunscreen.  And, as the winter unfolded into spring, I would see it was everywhere as it came into full bloom.  

In Tennessee this species became my herald of spring and a sign of warmer days to come.  But, here in Texas I have caught it blooming even before the onset of winter.  In 2017 I noted the first bloom on 05 December, and this past year, I caught two separate plants flowering just shy of the solstice on the 16 of December.  As an ephemeral, it must use its 15 minutes on stage wisely to grow, flower and set seed, and store energy before the canopy closes.  After that, the plant vanishes until the show returns next year.  Therefore, it makes sense that through natural selection it start performing as early as it can.  

I’ve learned much about spring beauty in recent years both digging in the soil and the literature.  There is a single corm from which the flowers and foliage arises.  Some sources will label it a bulb or a tuber, but from what I’ve deduced a corm more accurately reflects the circular storage organ.  The flowers grow out and then up from the mature corm, which gives the appearance of the shoots arising in a circle while the foliage tends to emerge straight upwards.  So, if you decide to move some from the lawn, take care not to slice through the shoots.  I like to sink the shovel in the soil on the outside of a clump and lift.  Then, I take care to settle the plant back in to the same depth.  

A single clump of Claytonia virginica nestled into its new home.

I have often thought of spring beauty as the deep south’s alternative for Galanthus.  We have a sparse selection of geophytes due to our lack of chilling.  Yes, the flowers are smaller, but their bloom time lasts longer than snowdrops due to a dozen of flowers on one raceme.  Claytonia virginica also has color variation within a population. You will likely see white-flowering and dark-pink-flowering plants in the same area with color morphs along that gradient. Research done in 2004 sheds light on why. Pollinators prefer dark-pink-colored flowers; thus, with natural selection you would expect to see the population flower color get darker and darker pink over time. If pollinators prefer a color, that usually means more pollination, more seed set, and more individuals expressing that trait in the population. However, the white flowers get their coloration from compounds like quercetin and kaempferol. These molecules protect the plant from herbivory and fungal infection. It’s a really fascinating look at different selection pressures maintaining variation in a population. One plant I moved had darker pink flowers has some rust-like disease on the leaves. Maybe this research explains why!

And speaking of pollinators, since spring beauty blooms so early, it makes a good model species for studying early spring behavior of bugs.  One paper I read demonstrated that 22 species of insects visited the flowers over a two-year observation period.  Filaments (the structures supporting the pollen-loaded stamens) that reflect UV light no doubt light up the runway for our antennaed friends.  Humans used to depend on them, too. A student once taught me that Native Americans once dug them and ate them. 

Claytonia virginica can have different colored blooms in the same population. Here, you see white and pink flowers. Also, notice how pink the stamens are (the five rice-shaped structures near the center of the flower).

It’s been a few weeks since I transplanted the Claytonia, and they are settling in nicely.   I enjoy walking out the door and seeing them a stones throw away.  With spring on the rise, other tasks call for me in the garden, but know that next year when they emerge again, I’ll find loners that need to be relocated from cultivated beds to less disturbed and more permanent plantings.  One day my garden beds will look look a little less barren and like the lawn will be dusted with this spring beauty, too.