A Flower Chaser Fall

October 11, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

Fall offers fewer and fewer blooming wildflowers to chase, so early one morning we head out to Morton Outcrops Scientific and Natural Area (SNA) to look for a different kind of color: lichens. Lichens aren’t plants—they’re a relationship between fungi, algae, and sometimes cyanobacteria, and Minnesota has as many as a thousand different kinds.  For help in identification we bring along our copy of Lichens of the North Woods by Joe Walewski. We arrive just after the sun is rising and wander among granite outcrops 3.6 billions years old, some of the oldest rock on our planet. Splotches of orange, gray, brown, green and yellow dot the pink-and-gray rippled rock, and we tentatively identify yellow cobblestone lichen and rock greenshield lichen.

The year is far enough into fall that it’s possible to wander places we couldn’t get to earlier in the season without thrashing through undergrowth, and we like to avoid thrashing whenever we can.  Now we can easily visit the northeastern edge of the old quarry in the SNA, where cubes of blasted  rocks are piled up like a giant’s building blocks and wind ripples the water in the bottom of the quarry.  

We aren’t many miles from Gneiss Outcrops SNA, so we drive on west to revisit it. In a previous summer visit we were defeated by tall, thick growth (think thrashing) and barely got past the first outcrop near the edge of the SNA.  Now much of that growth has died back, and we head toward a lake on the far edge of the SNA following trampled trails in the grasses, making our way around thickets of bushes and trees. The hike is longer than it looks on the map, but at last we spot water and follow a narrow trail through thorny branches down to a small lake where a swan rests white on the water.  A ridge of rocks leads up the other side of the lake, and a short climb brings us past brittle prickly pear cactus growing in rock cracks and plains prickly pear cactus sprawled across ledges. One way cactus survives our Minnesota winters is to lose water, shrinking into shriveled pads until spring when those pads swell again, and these cactuses are definitely shrinking.  

It’s amazing what color you can find, even when most of the flowers have died back or gone to seed–lichen dappling rock, a few goldenrods still blooming, deep red sumac leaves and berries, flecks  of quartz sparkling, little bluestem glowing red in the sunlight, trees along the road turning golden. And amazing what you might find if you just push on and even thrash a little through the undergrowth and trees–even a lake with cactuses growing on the rocks and a swan resting on the water. 

Aster Abundance

September 22, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

On the autumn equinox, when summer officially ends and when you can stand an egg on end (I’ve done it), we headed out to Lost Valley Prairie Scientific and Natural Area (SNA). Wind whipped mares’ tail clouds across a blue sky, and swaths of big bluestem  bent in the breeze. 

Most of the prairie flowers had already gone to seed or were well on their way–stiff gentian with seeds like little purple rocket nose cones, prairie blazing star like fuzzy bottle brushes on a stick, skinny whorled milkweed pods pointing skyward.  Several goldenrods still bloomed, including a bright line of showy goldenrod, but the pride of the fall prairie is asters, bright bursts of color busily visited by bees. Lost Valley Prairie lists seven asters out of our state’s twenty-three native asters, and we saw six of the seven including one that wasn’t on the list.  

We’ve been trying to learn to identify the asters, something of a challenge because all of the flowers are either blue-to-bluish-purple or white (except for rayless aster, which has no petals). So what else do we look for besides color?  

Height can help, although plants can range from small to tall.  Still, it’s a start–awl asters can reach five feet tall.  Flower position is also helpful:  awl aster’s white flowers grow only along one side of the stalks, while panicled aster’s similar-looking white flowers grow in bunches at the top of  the stem and in leaf axils (where leaf and stem meet). Heath aster’s tiny  white flowers crowd in tight bunches along the branches.  New England aster’s purplish-pink flowers grow at the top of the stem like a little bouquet. 

Leaves help, too.  Silky aster’s narrow leaves are covered with fine hairs that gives them a soft grey-green look.  Sky-blue aster’s basal leaves are heart shaped, and both basal leaves and stem leaves feel sandpapery on both sides. Aromatic aster’s leaves are said to smell aromatic when crushed, and while we didn’t smell them, we identified the plants by the profusion of leaves that grow smaller up the stem.  

The only one of the listed asters that we didn’t find was smooth blue aster whose petals are (or course) blue and whose leaves are mostly hairless and mostly clasping.  But there’s plenty of fall left for flower chasing, and while we likely we won’t see all of Minnesota’s asters this year, flower by flower we are learning them as we go.

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Roadside Riches

August 23, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

On an almost-end-of-August morning we headed down to Highway 56, a road in Mower county with rich roadsides if ever there was one, to see if cream gentian might be blooming in a ditch where we’d seen it last year.  Minnesota has seven species of gentian, all a deep blue except for cream gentian, a pale soft yellow.  

A white waning moon still hung in the sky as we drove along.  And there they were, a ditch full of cream gentians blooming like little bouquets of almost-closed flowers. We pulled off onto the shoulder of the road well out of the way of trucks thundering past. When we’d looked our fill at so many cream gentians that we didn’t even try to count them all,  we drove farther along the highway only to discover where all those  trucks had been headed: road construction.  In Minnesota? Who knew.

The detour around the town of Le Roy gave us a chance to head down to our favorite Iowa prairie, Hayden State Wildlife Management Area, where many flowers had already gone to fascinating seed–tuberous Indian plantain, wild quinine, milkweeds with their pointy pods.  Circling back into Minnesota, we drove down a stretch of  Highway 56 that we’d never been on before, where pale gentian-like blossoms beside the road demanded another stop along  the shoulder.  These blossoms turned out not to be gentians but white turtlehead, blooming among bright blue lobelia.

Have  you ever been so excited to see a flower that you stepped into what looked like a grassy ditch only to find out that hidden beneath the grass was water deeper than your boot tops?  I have. Luckily my go-to bag held dry clothes, and, even soaked to the knees, it was lovely to be among so many cheery white turtlehead flowers.

Our route took us close to Iron Horse Prairie Scientific and Natural Area (SNA), where we’d seen several kinds of blue gentians on past visits. If  cream gentians were blooming, could we find bottle gentians too?  We thrashed our way down the overgrown south entry path, climbed down into the SNA , and found that bottle gentians were indeed in bloom in the wetter parts of the prairie.   Bottle gentian’s blossoms are even more tightly closed than cream gentian’s, so bumblebees are the only pollinators strong enough to fight their way inside. In the more open areas of the prairie, blue asters and white asters bloomed, along with bright yellow sneezeweed and pale yellow lousewort still holding on to a few  of its whirligig petals.

Not far away at Hythecker Prairie SNA we found more bottle gentians blooming, along with spotted Joe Pye weed, marsh bellflower, marsh skullcap, smooth rattlesnake root, and plenty of goldenrods.

One more stop in search of gentians took us to Oronoco Prairie SNA, where we’d seen stiff gentian before, a surprising find in a dry prairie since all of Minnesota’s gentians except for downy gentian seem to prefer wetter places. Even though we didn’t find the stiff gentian we’d seen on previous visits the prairie delighted us with its golden grasses and goldenrods, whorled milkweed still blooming, bright purplish spires of rough blazing star, rattlesnake master’s spiky white globes, and big bluestem’s raggedy seed heads bending in the breeze. 

We started the day with rich roadsides and ended with scientific and natural areas.  Wherever we find native wildflowers, in places protected and places unexpected, they always delight.

Even when you accidentally fill your boots with water. 


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