Counting (Shooting) Stars

May 10, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

In our continuing search for all of Minnesota’s twenty violets, we set out last weekend to try to find state-endangered eastern green violet, one of the rarest flowers in the state, known in only a few places.

We scaled steep ravines, slipped and slid down dry rocky creek beds, wandered alongside (and got our hiking boots wet in) still-running creeks.
Did we find eastern green violet?

We did not. But we saw plenty of common blue violet along with cutleaf toothwort, eastern false rue anemone, Jack-in-the-pulpit, trout lily, Canadian wild ginger, mayapple in bud, Virginia spring beauty, drooping trillium, wild geranium, wild blue phlox, and marsh marigolds in brilliant yellow bloom.

We were close enough to Maglessen Bluff Park for a quick trip to see if the jeweled shooting stars, in bud last weekend, were blooming now. They were, their bright magenta petals folding back, so we decided on a different quest. We would try to see all of Minnesota’s shooting stars in a day instead.

All two of them.

Jeweled shooting star blooms April to May on limestone cliffs in hardwood forests and occasionally in goat prairies. Flowers are almost always a rosy purple-to-pink, very rarely white.

Prairie shooting star blooms April to June in open prairies and savannas with flowers that look very much like jeweled shooting star except that they are almost always pale or white. In Minnesota, though, habitat for prairie shooting star has been reduced so much that only a single known population in a roadside ditch remains. We don’t want to stress this last remnant in any way, even with a quick visit, so we headed down instead across the Iowa border to Hayden Prairie just a few miles from Lime Springs, Iowa. This 240-acre state preserve is considered one of Iowa’s best prairie remnants, a place where on previous visits we’ve seen abundant blooms of the same prairie shooting star that grows in Minnesota.

As we neared the prairie we saw a scene that’s become familiar to us: burned-over land. Prescribed fire burns away dried grasses and returns nutrients to the soil, but we’re never sure what we’ll see when a site has been recently burned. Would prairie shooting star still bloom after the fire?

The answer was yes. An abundance of plants was growing in places where we’d never noticed them before. Most plants were still in bud, but a few had pale flowers open. So our quest was complete: all two shooting stars in one day. Check.

We did see a violet, too, one that we’ve seen before–prairie violet. So our count of violets seen is still ten out of twenty. We’ll continue our search for as many violets as we can find, but we’ll come back to Hayden Prairie, too, to see the prairie responding after the fire.


See more of what we are SEEING NOW

Too Many to Count

April 13, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

We’ve been stalking spring for weeks now, and while we’ve seen signs of it, we found proof positive last weekend when we visited a hillside along a bike trail in southern Minnesota. We’d been to the hillside before in search of snow trillium, a species of special concern. On that previous trip we were too early to see more than buds, but this year our timing was perfect. Countless elegant, small, white, three-petaled flowers dotted the hillside, so many even I, who love to count, was overwhelmed. Snow trillium bloom early and vanish, so we counted ourselves beyond lucky to see this incredible display.

The snow trilliums weren’t alone. Here and there sharp-lobed hepatica bloomed, some white and some purple, their new bright-green leaves unfolding. Small trout lily leaves poked up, most singles but a few in pairs with a bud. (Trout lilies only flower after a plant has achieved two leaves, which explains the vast number of single, non-flowering trout lily leaves we often see in the spring.) Dark red columbine leaves were beginning to open, and Dutchman’s breeches plants no more than two inches high already had tiny buds that looked like miniature peanuts.

But the snow trillium were the glory of the show, climbing up and up the hillside. We climbed, too, marveling, while below the Le Sueur River sparkled brownly in the sun.

You would think an exuberance of snow trillium would be enough for our flower chasing hearts, and it was. But we wondered, too, if it was past time to catch another early bloomer, pasqueflower. The way back to the cities could take us past Ottawa Bluffs, a Nature Conservancy site not far from St. Peter where we’d seen pasqueflowers before, so what could we do but drive there and climb a steep, steep hill crowned with burr oaks to see if pasqueflowers were already done blooming. Halfway up the hill pale purple pasqueflowers began to appear, some singly and some in twos and threes, more and more of them the higher we climbed.

At the top of the hill we caught our breath, admired the flowers, looked out over the Minnesota River and wetlands far below, then began our descent among the small purple flowers still blissfully blooming away.

A wealth of snow trilliums, sharp-lobed hepatica, the beginning buds of Dutchman’s breeches and trout lilies, and pasqueflowers to finish up the day. Not only has spring arrived, it’s about to burst forth in all its flowering splendor.

And we can’t wait to see it.

Signs of Hope

March 14, 2025

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

On a day when almost all of the latest (and maybe last) snowfall has melted and the temperature tops seventy degrees Fahrenheit, we go looking for signs of spring.

Skunk cabbage has been poking up above ground for at least a week, but skunk cabbage is an overachiever, creating its own heat to melt its way free of the ground. Now we’re on the lookout for the next early flowers, snow trillium and pasqueflower.

Snow trillium is the smallest of Minnesota’s four trilliums and also a species of state special concern, which the Department of Natural Resources defines as “extremely uncommon in Minnesota, or has unique or highly specific habitat requirements.” A species to keep an eye on.

Not only is snow trillium small, it’s a plant that can take twelve years or more to flower. Finding its graceful white three-petaled blossoms is always a delight and a sure sign that wildflower season is beginning.

We don’t find the flowers yet, but we do find a very few, very tiny green shoots, one of them smaller than a grain of rice. But it’s enough to reassure us that they are coming, and we’ll come back soon to see snow trillium in full (and brief) flower.

Next stop: River Terrace Prairie Scientific and Natural Area (SNA) to check for pasqueflower, those lovely purple prairie anemones. As we drive down the dirt road to the SNA a bluebird flies in front of us, another sign of spring. On the hilltop at River Terrace Prairie we find still more signs: the small furry nubbins of pasqueflower emerging like little brown noses, along with prairie smoke leaves beginning to green. Farther down the hillside we find what we tentatively identify as last year’s kittentails gone to seed, even though we’ve read that kittentails stalks wither after blooming, leaving just the basal rosette of leaves behind. But these are times of change, so we wonder if flowers are changing, too, in response to the changing climate. If these are kittentails, they clearly don’t care what we’ve read about withering after blooming–they follow their own wildflower ways.

Just being out on a glorious day under a sky streaked with high white wisps of clouds and seeing spring makes its sweet way under trees and over prairies fills up our hearts that are hungry for springtime and hope.