Outside My Window

Very soon all the trees will be bare in my neighborhood.  This is already the case north of Pittsburgh.

A week ago I visited the Clarion River in Jefferson County where I noticed all the trees were bare, even the oaks.  At the Allegheny Front last Sunday the leaves on the mountain had fallen but in the valley the oaks were russet, the tulip trees golden.  In the valley it was the final show and by now it’s probably over.

But the show isn’t over yet if there are non-native trees in your area.  Non-natives from northern locations are out of sync with our photo period so most of them still have leaves, some are still green. 

For instance, our native maples lost their leaves two weeks ago but Norway maples still retain yellow and even green leaves.  They’re responding to the amount of light they expect in Norway in October, which is about 10 hours per day.  Our days aren’t that short until early November so these non-natives still have leaves.  They’re on Norway time.

Eventually even the non-natives will catch up.  How will I know when all the leaves are gone?  When I don’t have to rake anymore.

(photo by Marcy Cunkelman)

This morning the fog rose from the river and blanketed my neighborhood in frost. 

Above the fog the sky is clear, the sun shining.  Both fog and frost will be gone soon.

(photo by Dianne Machesney)

Today’s the day for spooks and ghosts.  Its colors are black and orange, the black of night and witches’ hats, the orange of glowing embers and the harvest moon. 

Why aren’t our black-and-orange birds associated with Halloween?  Probably because Baltimore orioles, American redstarts and Blackburnian warblers are small and harmless and they’ve migrated out of North America by late October.  Instead the smart and crafty crows and ravens are symbols of this spooky holiday.  Black is in and the crows are in town.

For the color orange you can’t beat pumpkins.  Did you know that pumpkins are native to the Americas but they’re now grown around the world?  The major pumpkin-growing countries are the U.S., Mexico, India and China.  Pennsylvania is one of the top five pumpkin producing states so when I buy a pumpkin I’m “buying local.”

This Halloween we get a bonus.  We’ll turn our clocks back tonight and get an extra hour of sleep.  The bad news is that the sun will set at 5:07pm on Sunday and the black of night will descend upon us an hour earlier. 

Happy Halloween!

(photo by Chuck Tague)

Not only is this arrangement colorful, it’s a signal to birds that says, “Eat me!”  And that’s just what they did.  The fruit is gone.

These are the green leaves and red pedicels of Sassafras (Sassafras albidum), a medium to large-sized tree that’s unusual in several ways:

• Its leaves have three distinct shapes:  smooth egg, two-lobed mitten, and three-lobed fingers.  Click here to see the shapes.
• Its bead-like deep blue fruit stands up on each bright red stalk and is eaten by birds and bears so quickly that I rarely see it.  Click here to see the fruit on the stem.  Pretty amazing, huh?
• Its twigs are browsed by rabbits and deer.
• And Sassafras is food for humans too.  We (used to!) make tea from the roots’ outer bark and gumbo filé from powdered leaves.  Scroll down to the third paragraph here for more information on its edible qualities.

Sassafras says “eat me” and birds oblige.

(photo by Dianne Machesney)

Plants have many strategies for dispersing their fruits. Here’s one that’s quite ingenious. 

First, wrap the seed in a very sour, very hard pulp.  Then wrap the pulp in a colorful covering that lasts a long time.  The fruit is so hard and sour that no one will eat it.  So why bother making fruit?

Ah, but wait.  As fall turns to winter, frost breaks down the pulp and takes the extreme sour edge off the fruit.  At this point the birds who remain through the winter have something to eat. 

Theoretically this strategy of feeding winter birds would guarantee the seeds don’t disperse far, but the plant has spread thanks to people.  In colonial times we figured out how to add sugar and make jams and jellies from it, and we like its color so much that we plant it as an ornamental. 

Quite a success story for Cranberry Viburnum, a beautiful but sour fruit.

(photo by Tim Vechter)

 
Fall is really here. 

Right now our maples are showing off their oranges, reds and yellows while our ash trees wear pastel yellow and pale violet. 

Soon the maples and ashes will lose their leaves but we’ll get a second burst of color from the oaks – ochre, rust and burgundy. 

Enjoy it now.  The trees will be bare in November. 

(photo by Dianne Machesney of Latodami Nature Center at North Park)

Sometimes the best fall colors come in tiny packages.

Look at the forest floor and you may see this Indian Cucumber.  It’s all decked out in green, red and blue to attract passing birds.  The colors are arranged like a bull’s eye, circling the berries.  “Eat me!” it says to the birds.  And they oblige.

(photo by Dianne Machesney)

No, these aren’t tomatoes.  They’re related to tomatoes, but don’t eat them.  They’re poisonous.

These are the fruits of Bittersweet Nightshade (Solanum dulcamara), a common weed in North America that’s native to Europe and Asia.  Click on the photo to see its flowers.

Until I did the research for this blog, I called this plant Deadly Nightshade but that’s the common name for a completely different and far more deadly plant, Atropa Belladonna.  Belladonna is so poisonous that 2-5 of its deep blue berries can kill a child, 10-20 berries or a single leaf can kill an adult. In Ancient Rome the aristrocracy found it quite effective for killing their rivals.

Both plants are in the Nightshade family (Solanaceae) which includes a wide variety of edible and poisonous species.  The edible plants are so tasty that humans went to the trouble of cultivating them: potatoes, tomatoes, eggplants, chili peppers and paprika.  The toxic plants are beautiful but dangerous: Deadly Nightshade, Bittersweet Nightshade, Mandrake and Jimson Weed (Datura), to name a few.

Somewhere in humanity’s past, people had to figure out which plants were good to eat and which weren’t.   What a risky business!  I’m glad that job is done and we’re able to pass on the knowledge.

Meanwhile, don’t worry that you’ll mistake these berries for tomatoes.  Bittersweet Nightshade berries are tiny and the plant smells bad.

(photos by Chuck Tague)

Here’s a flower that I look for in September at Moraine State Park.  Closed or Bottle Gentian (Gentiana andrewsii) likes to grow in damp soil so I risk getting my feet wet when I look for it.  It’s always a pleasant surprise to find it.

The petals of Bottle Gentians never open but a bumblebee can force its way into the flower at the top.  In fact, bumblebees are just about the only insect who wants to – and can – collect the nectar. 

It seems to me this is a lot of trouble to go to for each flower.  It must be worth it.

(photo by Dianne Machesney)

Here’s a flower that blooms in Pennsylvania – and in Acadia National Park in September.  

Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritaceae) probably got its “everlasting” name because it dries well for use in winter flower arrangements.  It’s a member of the Aster family.

(photo by Dianne Machesney)