Fields of gold

September is a good month for prairies, even though the year is winding down. The summer flowers and grasses are going to seed, making lots of creatures very happy, but this was the highlight of a recent walk at Blue Creek in Whitehouse, Ohio:

a knock-your-socks-off swath of goldenrod. Further along, there were acres of solidago of various species, including at least one that was wafting an absolutely delicious scent along a mile or more of trail. In my seventh decade, I had never before noticed that goldenrod has scent.
 

My wanderings had taken me to the nursery fields of the Toledo Metroparks, from which some 2500 pounds of native plant seeds are harvested each year to be added to the various sites the park system is restoring.

Serendipitously, my walk coincided with a royal visit. The monarch was surveying the fields of gold.

Have to believe we are magic

A true confession: I was one of those kids who wanted fairies to be real. I would have loved to communicate with the spirits of the flowers and talk to the dryads when they decided to come out of their trees. Didn't happen.

But looking at some landscapes, it is not hard to understand why our ancestors felt spirits there. Forests in particular have this effect on me.

Sometimes I half-expect to see magical beings rising up from the woodland floor.

And who wouldn't love to hear the conversations these polypores are having with the lichens?

A few days ago, an old, not particularly impressive-looking field, now part of a northwestern Ohio park,

was alive with tiny creatures whose wings flashed silver in the sunlight. Could they be--fairies? Alas, no; they turned out to be small grasshoppers. Today, when of course I had no camera, I came face-to-face with one as it munched on a blossom of weedy Canada thistle. When not in flight, these grasshoppers are a very ordinary-looking gray or green. But--a tiny, green and silver flying thing that dines on thistlebloom--isn't that a kind of magic?

End of Summer Extravaganza

Early September is not quite fall in our part of the world, but the seasonal signals are showing up--not yet the full fall foliage extravaganza, but some reminders that the most colorful of seasons is nearly here.

Yesterday found me in Lucas County's Blue Creek Metropark, where the various goldenrods are coming on strong, and the shrub dogwoods have decided that fall is already here.

Goldenrod, in case there is anyone left who is still unaware of the facts about this much-maligned genus of plants, is not responsible for hay fever (the culprit is ragweed, in a different plant family).

Solidago is also the most important genus of herbaceous plants for fall pollinators, according to no less an expert than University of Delaware entomologist Doug Tallamy, author of the wildlife gardening bible, Bringing Nature Home. (You can check out his wonderfully useful website here.)

Some lovely white thing (possibly a eupatorium species) was blooming along rocky outcroppings in this former limestone quarry,

while a few late thistles were still putting out their ridiculous purple puffballs on those wicked stems.

Despite the hanging-on of a few summer flowers like the thistles, evening primrose, and a few annual sunflowers that somehow found their way to the edge of the porta-potty area, hints of fall were everywhere.

The shrub dogwoods were fruiting, as were LOTS of sumac, including this quarry-side lovely in which a spider (which refused to come out enough to be properly photographed) was setting up its hunting lair. (It is lurking in the dark opening among the red berries. If you look closely, you can see its front legs.)

And of course, no beginning-of-fall post would be complete without the obligatory foliage photo. Some tidy folk may consider sumac species weedy (and they are a tad enthusiastic), but the color combination and leaf veining are swoon-worthy, in my humble opinion.

A final fall note: some of the loveliest foliage is that found on poison ivy. If you happen across this beauty (and it is everywhere this year), step to the side.

Just a friendly warning.