Flower Chasers

July 15, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

Some trips we set out on with expectations and detailed itineraries. Some trips we simply choose a destination to explore and head out. A recent trip to the north shore combined both sorts of trips. We’d been excited to sign up for a MN Native Plant Society field trip that began at Tettegouche State Park and Palisade Head. We spent the morning learning to go slowly, to notice things, to keep a record of what we see, and to share what we learned. After lunch we climbed a talus slope with the instructions of Joe Walewski, one of the trip leaders, ringing in our ears: “Do not die.  Do not die. Do not die.”

We have new respect for the steep, tumbled, lichen-and-moss-covered boulders that make up the talus slope that led to a sheer rock face where so much life manages to find a hold. A great day of learning and spending time with other native plant enthusiasts. Highly recommended.  

And none of us died.  

The next day we set out on our own to explore three scientific and natural areas  (SNAs) we’d never visited before, following directions on the back of an SNA map because we had no cellular service (translation: no blue dot to guide us) as we navigated back roads.  

 At Myhr Creek Ridge, the first SNA, we didn’t expect to see orchids blooming before we even reached the wooden SNA sign. But there they were, twenty or more Platanthera huronensis (one of the two Minnesota species of tall green bog orchid) blooming in a ditch. Farther into the SNA we came across another unexpected orchid, spotted coralroot.

As we followed directions down back roads toward our next stop, Hovland Woods SNA, we were stunned to find roadside ditches filled with lesser purple fringed orchids in fresh and glorious bloom. We’d been encouraged on the field trip to take notes, including counting things (and we do love to count), so we walked along the road counting at least 200 blooming plants–a lesser purple fringed orchid mother lode.

As we were counting, we realized we could also keep count of the number of different orchid species we were seeing that day. It was still early morning, and we were already  up to three unexpected orchids. Who knew what else this day might bring?

Jubilant, we drove on toward Hovland Woods SNA, only to encounter a minimum maintenance road so rutted and full of water-filled holes that we didn’t dare drive down it. The idea of a roughly two-mile hot and buggy hike down that road and another trail before we even reached the SNA discouraged us, but luckily directions showed another entrance to the SNA. Surely that road would get us where we wanted to go.  

As we headed toward the other entrance we passed the road leading to our third destination, Spring Beauty Northern Hardwoods SNA, and drove down it until we encountered yet another rocky, rutted, washed-out road between us and the SNA. This hike was shorter, so we parked and started up the hill, spotting western spotted coralroot as we went. Unexpected orchid number four. Wandering in the cool shade of northern hardwoods, we promised to come back in the spring to see the wealth of spring wildflowers that by now had already gone to seed.

Back on the road we followed the SNA map instructions once again to the other entrance to Hovland Woods SNA, driving down Irish Creek Road 1.2 miles as directed and searching for a junction with Boyd Road (or any sign of  anything Boyd) where we were supposed to park. The odometer climbed as we passed the 1.2 mile mark and continued climbing until we realized we had come much too far. We retraced our route, wondering if perhaps a wide, grassy, unmarked trail might once have been Boyd  Road and beginning to understand why we’d never met anyone who had visited this SNA.  Neither would we, this time around. On another trip we might find our way in, but for now we had other places still to visit, places we knew we could get to. 

Leaving SNAs behind, we met a friend to look for orchids we did expect to find–we’d seen them at an abandoned gravel pit site in previous years. Small green wood orchid and ragged fringed orchid did not disappoint. What we didn’t expect to see was Loesel’s twayblade, Platanthera aquilonis (the other tall green bog orchid), and Western spotted coralroot orchid with no spots.  Four more orchids and a variation on an orchid (unspotted Western spotted coralroot) brought the count of unexpected (and a few expected) orchids to nine. In a wooded area close by we encountered unexpected orchid number ten, early coralroot gone to seed.  

On the way back to the amazing place we were staying with friends, (Lutsen Sea Villa E3) we pulled over at one last stop, Cascade River State Park.  Here we expected to see a single large round-leaved orchid we’d found on earlier visits, and we did.  What we didn’t expect was to find four more large round-leaved orchids keeping the first one company. This not-quite-unexpected orchid trove brought the total to eleven, not our personal best of twelve orchids in a single day, but still thoroughly satisfying. Then on the trail back to the car we found lesser rattlesnake plantain blooming and, a little farther on, a stemless lady’s-slipper gone to seed. Ecstatic, we upped our count to thirteen (including the unspotted Western spotted coralroot), delighting in the unexpected luck of an orchid-rich day.

Monday, heading-home day, we stopped at Tettegouche State Park for a last quick hike along the Shovel Point trail where we found bristly sarsaparilla, a new-to-us wildflower. At trail’s end we were surprised by a sweep of rock bristling with its own colorful array of lichens and wildflowers–shrubby cinquefoil, hairy goldenrod, ninebark, harebell, three-toothed cinquefoil–and a stunning view out toward Palisade Head and the far horizon where lake and sky met. No orchids needed to make this a spectacular ending to a weekend of wildflower chasing excellent beyond any expectation.

See all of what we are seeing now and what we saw at the end of Shovel Point Trail at Tettegouche State Park HERE!

July 4 and 5, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

On the fourth of July we set off to see wildflowers blooming in some of Minnesota’s western prairies. The rain came with us, a drenching downpour with the light alternating between apocalyptic clouds and intensely saturated colors. By the time we reached Antelope Valley Scientific and Natural Area (SNA) the rain had slowed to sprinkles.

We’d been to Antelope Valley last year, too late to see showy milkweed flowering, but this year we were right on time–true to its name, showy milkweed bloomed gloriously. All of our milkweeds are beautiful, but showy really is spectacular with long pointy pink hoods that enclose the flower’s horns, which play a part in pollination. (The flower’s horns were the closest we came to seeing anything resembling an antelope in Antelope Valley, although pronghorn antelope once ranged as far east as the Mississippi River.)

Foxtail barley bent in the breeze, wild licorice bloomed among the prairie grasses, pale-spike lobelia blossomed in slender stalks of blue, and meadow blazing star and swamp milkweed budded. Thunder and lightning drove us back to the car to head to our next stop, Glynn Prairie SNA, where silverleaf scurfpea, thimbleweed, prairie phlox, and false sunflower bloomed along with larkspur, meadow blazing star, golden Alexanders, and more pale-spike lobelia.

On to Prairie Coteau SNA, where we climbed among leadplant, grey-headed coneflower, silverleaf scurfpea, hoary vervain, whorled milkweed, green milkweed, and prairie clover.

On our way to Lundblad Prairie SNA a ferocious rain storm assailed us with a rat a tat of hail that stopped by the time we reached the SNA, and we wandered among more of the usual prairie flowers we’d been seeing and also figured out how to tell the difference between common milkweed and state-threatened Sullivant’s milkweed: Sullivant’s has much narrower leaves that stick up more vertically and feel rubberier than common milkweed.

By the time we settled into the night’s hotel, we were counting up milkweeds seen so far this trip: common, swamp, curly-leaved green, whorled, showy, and Sullivant’s, a total of six of Minnesota’s thirteen known milkweed species. We love a good hunt, so why not spend part of Friday looking for as many more milkweeds in bloom as we could find?

Friday threatened more rain, but we always bring rain gear and rubber boots for wet weather and wet grasses along with bug shirts for the mosquitoes that fiercely follow the rain. We climbed up into the newest SNA, Purrington Prairie, grateful that another area has been protected for wildlife and wildflowers, then stopped at Des Moines River SNA where vivid, deep orange (almost red) butterfly-weed (milkweed number seven) dotted a hillside. We bypassed Holthe Prairie SNA when we discovered the minimum maintenance road we needed to take was maximally minimal, overgrown with high grasses and with a deep puddle of muddy water right at the turnoff. We’ll come back in drier weather.

We’d seen poke milkweed before along a forested road in Lake Louise State Park, so we made our way east across the state. Sure enough, poke milkweed’s white blossoms drooped gracefully on their umbels. Milkweed number eight.

The last stop on the way home was a Wildlife Management Area where we’d once seen state-threatened prairie milkweed in flower. Would we find the plants again? Would they be blooming? Just as we arrived, the skies opened in another drenching downpour, but we geared up, booted up, and sloshed through wet prairie grasses to where we remembered finding the flowers.

And there they were, two plants with their slender leaves and sparkly, globe-shaped blossoms almost glowing in the wet air. I held an umbrella over Kelly and her camera while she took photos, then we searched for more plants. Previously we’d seen more than fifty, and diligent searching revealed at least twenty-two this year (which we rounded up to twenty-five for the ones we most likely had missed). Milkweed number nine.

Milkweed’s flowers make their own sort of exuberant fireworks, from bright orange to white to pink to green. On two days filled with prairies, wildflowers, and many Minnesota milkweeds, finding prairie milkweed in bloom felt like a flowery grand finale.

Jubilant, we headed home.

See more of what we are SEEING NOW!

Check out all of Minnesota’s Native Milkweeds!

June 15, 2024

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

All our flower chasing last year had one goal: to finish our next book.  This year our goal is to  mosey and meander.

With that in mind we set out to visit a Scientific and Natural Area (SNA) that lists tamarack swamp and black ash seepage swamp as habitats within its boundaries, because who doesn’t love to explore a good swamp?   We know we do. Once we reached the SNA, however, we discovered that entry from the two designated parking areas involved thrashing through brambles and thistles.  We thrashed for a bit, but once we encountered vigorously growing poison ivy we decided instead to drive along the edges of the SNA in search of a more welcoming entry point.  

The drive took us down a winding road  where rainy light fell through tall green trees.  Along that road we found an easier place (no prickles, no brambles, no poison ivy) to explore beside a tiny, meandering stream. Jack-in-the-pulpit and starry false Solomon’s seal  had finished their blooming, but in the rich black mucky soil we also found clusters of rounded basal leaves, one with a flower stalk of tiny round white buds, that turned out to be elliptical pyrola just beginning its bloom.  

On the other side of the road we were delighted by signs that read “Roadsides for Wildlife – No Unauthorized Mowing, Spraying, Haying, ATV Operation or Wildflower Collection.”  We’re always glad to see these protected roadside strips–they may be narrow, but they provide critical habitat for nesting birds, small animals, bees, butterflies, and native wildflowers.

A glance at the map showed we were close to Roscoe Prairie SNA, a longtime favorite of ours, so we headed over and pulled into the parking area where the prairie spread out before us–no thistles, no thrashing, just an exuberant display of native flowers. Prairie phlox stood out brightly pink along with the  purple flowers of fragrant false indigo, and northern bedstraw’s foamy white blossoms bloomed almost everywhere. A few spires of mountain death camas stood tall, and we wandered among purple spiderwort, flat pink prairie rose, and the yellow flowers of two-flowered Cynthia and golden Alexanders.  Everywhere we looked the prairie was gloriously busy making more of itself.

We had set out to see swamps, and what we found instead was a roadside for wildlife, a mucky streamside, and a burgeoning prairie. Plenty enough to delight flower chasers whose only goal was to go somewhere we hadn’t yet been and to see (or maybe not see) something we hadn’t yet seen.

A meandering success.