Heading North

July 4-5, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

Saturday evening we have an event for our new wildflower book at Drury Lane Books in Grand Marais, so we leave on  Friday to get in some flower chasing on the drive up. We’re hoping to find all of the pyrolas (except perhaps state-endangered small shinleaf) in one weekend, and with any luck we might also see at least one rare wildflower we’ve been dreaming about.

Our first stop is in Duluth, where we meet up with a naturalist who has generously offered to show us floating marsh marigold, which has been on our want-to-see list for years now. Floating marsh marigold  has small leaves, very small white flowers, and blooms June through August in slow-moving water and along muddy shores.  (Its close kin marsh marigold has large leaves, bright yellow flowers, and blooms in April and May in streams and lakes and ditches. It’s a little hard to believe they’re related, but they are.)  

On our own we might never have seen this tiny floating flower, and we’re grateful to  the naturalist for showing it to us and to the flower itself for blooming when we could see it. As we drive farther north, we are floating, too, with the thrill of finally seeing this state-endangered flower.

Next stop: Tettegouche State Park, where we find pink pyrola blooming under a bridge, our first pyrola of the trip. Despite diligent searching, though, we don’t locate the one-sided pyrola that is supposed to be growing nearby.

At Temperance River State Park we connect with a fellow flower chaser to drive down roads ever more narrow, rocky, and muddy to a stream between lakes and surrounded by pines, a place that feels a little forgotten and more than a little magical.  It’s also a place where state-endangered small white water-lily has been seen somewhere inside an area of 27 kilometers, according to INaturalist.

“The leaves look like Pac-man,” our friend tells us as we don muck boots for our search.  And when, eventually,  we spot first one single leaf, then another and another, they really do look like Pac-man, round with a deep vee. Hoping for flowers as well as leaves we wander along a nearby lake and spot one, then, two, then three plants with bright white buds almost open and more Pac-man-like leaves.  

Without a nearby American white water-lily for comparison, it’s hard for a photo to show how small the flowers and leaves that we’re seeing really are. American white water-lily has flowers 3 to 6 inches and leaves  4 to 12 inches, while small white water-lily has flowers 1 1/2 to 3 inches with  leaves 1 1/2 to 6 inches. These small flowers open for only a few hours each day, so either we’ve come at the wrong time of day or else the buds aren’t quite ready to flower. Several years ago we bought hip waders for just such an occasion, and we gleefully don them for their inaugural wade deeper into the lake and a little nearer these rare and diminutive plants.

Two state-endangered flowers in one day–giddy with delight we head to our rented cabin on Lake Superior for the night.

And wake to a dripping sky and an all-day forecast of rain.

But we are flower-chasers, undaunted by a little water falling on us. We’ve never yet been deterred by rain, and we don’t intend to start  now. 

Fog socks in the lake and blurs the road as we set out, but when we turn inland both fog and rain gradually lighten.  At a gravel pit that we love to visit, we find the green-flowered pyrola that a friend has told us about and that has been on our to-see list for years. Our second pyrola of the trip, and that’s just the beginning. 

Across the road we find a yellow-colored coralroot that we’ve seen here once before and puzzled over (too tall for early coralroot, way too far out of it’s range and bloom time for autumn coralroot). Now we know that it’s a yellow spotless variant of western spotted coralroot.  Close by, early coralroot has gone to seed, and western spotted coralroot blooms in its usual colors. Along a nearby trail we also find ragged fringed orchid in bud, huronensis orchid in flower, and many small green wood orchids (also known as club-spur orchid) in bud.  

Six orchids before nine o’clock on a rainy day when we set out to see pyrolas.  You never know what might happen when you go flower chasing. 

Our search for pyrola resumes when a friend sends us coordinates for a section of the Superior Hiking Trail, where he’s seen several pyrola. The overcast sky and dripping  trees make this place, too, feel magical, as though we’ve somehow been transported to a bit of  the west coast rain forest. A creek burbles beside us on its way downhill as we  follow the trail up.  And up.  And up.  

Along the way we find more clumps of the yellow spotless variant of western spotted coralroot bright under the pines, lots of western spotted coralroot, and a single spotted coralroot barely out of the ground. We love finding these orchids, but we’re still on the lookout for pyrola, and we find them, too:  one-flowered pyrola, one-sided pyrola, shinleaf (elliptical pyrola),  and green-flowered pyrola along with their near-relation, pipsissewa. 

Weekend pyrola total: all the pyrolas except round-leaved pyrola and small shinleaf, which is a plant of state special concern and will most likely take a lot more looking to locate.

One last stop of the day at Icelandite Fen Scientific and Natural Area reveals a few tiny auricled twayblade, bringing the weekend orchid total to eight. 

The evening event at Drury Lane Books is filled with friendly folks interested in wildflowers and in restoring the land. We end our Fourth of July weekend full of gratitude for new friends, new places, and wildflowers both new and familiar.

With so many riches, who needs fireworks?

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Keweenaw Adventure Day Five

Just 26, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

Read this post on our blog at flowerchasers.com

Sunrise streaks the sky pink, yellow, and grayish blue as we make a quick before-class trip back to Horseshoe Harbor. Rocks, water, wildflowers–this is quintessential Lake Superior, and we love it.

In class we study river’s-edge plants, then drive to Bete Grise Preserve and hike through the woods to eat lunch under towering white pines along the beach. This is a new habitat for us, a complex of upland sand dunes alternating with wetlands swales. Delicate bell-shaped flowers hang from lowbush blueberry and velvet-leaf blueberry along the dune edge, and flowers that we’ve only ever seen before growing in woods–bunchberry, starflower, Canada mayflower–surprise us by also growing here in deep sand. In the wetland swales behind the dunes we find leatherleaf, Labrador tea, blue flag iris, and many sedges.

The last stop of the day is a fen, a habitat that makes our hearts happy.  Here we find small cranberry, bog rosemary, purple pitcher plant, rose pogonia (one in bloom, most still in bud), and clusters and clusters of sundew, both round-leaved and spoon-leaf, glistening in the sunlight.

Even though the class is over, Kelly and I haven’t quite had our fill of flower chasing. We stop briefly by a roadside to catch American cancer-root in flower, then head to Cy Clark Memorial Nature Sanctuary where we find tesselated rattlesnake plantain and giant rattlesnake plantain nestled in moss. We’ve made it our goal to see giant rattlesnake plantain in a different location each day we’re here, and we’ve succeeded. Giant rattlesnake plantain doesn’t grow in Minnesota, so we won’t see it again until we return to the Keweenaw Peninsula.  

Which we definitely will. 

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Keweenaw Adventure Day Four

June 25, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

The second day of our plant class on the Keweenaw begins with a hike down through boreal forest past familiar inhabitants–bunchberry, twinflower, starflower, Canada mayflower–along with a new-to-us flower, barren strawberry, a plant of special concern in Minnesota.  Here its distinctive leaves and yellow flowers spread across the forest floor with nary a berry in sight.  The trail ends at a wide rock beach cradled by rock ridges that form Horseshoe Harbor.

On one side of the beach common butterwort, an arctic disjunct, covers a rock wall.  Arctic disjuncts are plants separated by hundreds of miles from their habitat farther north. Butterwort is rare in Minnesota and Michigan, but here the rocks are dotted with the plant’s pristine purple flowers and sticky, star-shaped yellow leaves that trap and devour small insects. Another arctic disjunct, bird’s-eye primrose, grows nearby, its small pink flowers almost done except for two that we find in cheery bloom.  Dwarf raspberry bushes have found rootholds in the rock and are developing berries, and three-toothed cinquefoil with its bright white flowers is scattered along rock cracks and fractures. This is a place that makes our flower-chasing hearts beat with joy. What’s not to love about a Lake Superior beach, and this one is, well, superior.

Over lunch we learn about the geology of this area, how Isle Royale and the Keweenaw peninsula were once connected and share the same geology.  We learn, too, how veins of calcium in the rocks around us help create a habitat for calcium-loving plants, which are often arctic disjuncts. 

On the other side of the beach we climb onto a high rock ridge with a vast view of Lake Superior and wander past microhabitats of three-toothed cinquefoil,  sedges, creeping juniper, and the occasional frog. 

Safely down from the ridge, we learn more about how the layers of rock tell a geologic tale of sediment and stromatolites, which are earth’s oldest fossils. Rocks have stories, if we only know how to read them.

Today’s after-class flower chasing takes us, thanks to some shared coordinates, to a place where at least twenty-five ram’s-head lady’s-slippers grow. Most of the flowers are past their prime, but it’s still a thrill to see these delicate orchids in a new location. 

We end the day with a hike near Copper Harbor where three years earlier I came across giant rattlesnake plantain for the first time.  We don’t find the plants I saw then,  but we do find an abundance  of pink shinleaf almost ready to bloom and another population of giant rattlesnake plantain leaves nestled in the moss.

A spectacular day, and one that brings our trip total of orchids seen so far to thirteen. 

What will tomorrow bring?  We can hardly wait to find out.