Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) grow under an ash tree in our backyard.
They appeared early this year. Fresh green tips of Siberian squill (Scilla siberica) pushed through bare, frost-free soil in February. When they began to bloom, a spring snowstorm buried them beneath a shimmering blanket. Though not a native wildflower, their Russian and Turkish origins outfit them well for the toughest of Minnesota winters. The melting snow watered them, spurring growth and bloom. I love their ultramarine blue radiance, a color infrequent among flowers. They attract many early native bees and honey bees to our urban garden when few other spring ephemerals are blooming.1 Our backyard hums with the gentle drone of bees — the first I’ve heard since last November. I’ve missed them.
1If you don’t have Siberian squill in your garden, it’s best not to plant them. A non-native, they can become invasive, especially near woodlands and other natural areas.
Common snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) blossom early this winter.
Common snowdrops popped early this winter; the calendar said February, but the air felt like March. First, creamy teardrops dangled from blue-green stalks nestled in shredded hosta leaves and fallen spruce cones. The teardrops opened to pearly bells etched in spring green. They look fragile as they quiver in the wind, but these hardy bulbs, which are native to Northern Europe, parts of Asia and the Middle East, usually grow and bloom through snow cover and cold. Even with this year’s mild winter, these fresh blossoms are a joyful sight, a symbol of warming sun and soil.
Gusty winds tease common milkweed seeds from their pods.
Its beauty isn’t on the outside. Common milkweed (Asclepias Syriaca), despite its attractiveness to monarch butterflies, isn’t the showiest of plants. Its large, smooth leaves and warty pods lack the delicacy of many native plants. Milkweed’s beauty is hidden within its pods.
Tiny green pods arise from fertilized pink, aromatic flowers.
Over the summer, small, perfumed pink flowers are fertilized and form tiny green pods or follicles. As they ripen, they grow to three-to-five inches in length. Inside, oval-shaped flat, brown seeds tethered to white, satiny strands designed for wind dispersal are arranged around a central column. Each is neatly tucked into a crevice on a membrane attached to the top and bottom of the pod.
Oval-shaped seeds attached to satiny strands are neatly arranged around a central column.
Wind fluffs the silky fibers into parachutes to disperse the seeds.
When the seeds mature, the pods dry and crack open. As wind enters the split pods, the silky strands unfurl and balloon into parachutes. One by one the seeds spin out of the pod like shimmering wind-borne dancers that glow in the autumn sunlight. I love to watch them sail — sometimes floating on a gentle breeze, sometimes scurrying on gusty winds. The empty pod is pretty too: Cream-to-gold colored and smooth inside, except for the center membrane, which is grooved to anchor individual seeds.
The empty pod is satiny smooth except for the grooved central column where the seeds were attached.
These lovely seeds used to be rare in Twin Cities urban areas, but now many residents grow one or more of 14 native milkweed species in their yard and boulevard gardens to attract monarchs and other butterflies.¹
Milkweed plants are the sole host plant for monarch butterflies.
¹When handling milkweed, it’s best to wear gloves and eye protection. The plant’s milky latex sap can cause eye and skin irritation on contact. According to several sources, the sap is slightly toxic to humans if eaten in large amounts. Animals are also affected by it, but most avoid the plant. This substance helps to make monarch butterfly caterpillars unpalatable to birds.
I’ve battled bishop’s weed (Aegopodiumpodagraria) in my garden for 35 years.¹ As much as I detest it, (please don’t plant it), I’ve learned that what’s despised by one creature may mean survival to another. Bishop’s weed, a member of the parsley family, is one of a small number of host plants or “homes” for native black swallowtail butterfly caterpillars.²
A black swallowtail caterpillar (Papilio polyxenes) feasts on bishop’s weed, a member of the parsley family.
As I dug out the weeds a couple of weeks ago, I spotted a caterpillar with light blue-green and black stripes dotted with yellow. The clues to its identity were its location on a member of the parsley family, the only plant type that black swallowtails live on and eat, and the color and pattern of its stripes. (It looked similar to a monarch, but monarch caterpillars only eat milkweed and their stripes are yellow, black and white.) I searched through the rest of the bishop’s weed and found a second caterpillar. In May I’d seen an adult black swallowtail visiting the weed, where it must have deposited eggs.
Two rows of well-defined yellow spots help to distinguish the black swallowtail from other swallowtail species in our area.
Not a rare butterfly, but a handsome one, the black swallowtail (sometimes called the parsley swallowtail) is native to the eastern United States and Canada. Its body and wings are black with highlights of yellow, blue and orange. The tail ends in two narrow lobes that give it the common name of swallowtail. Two rows of bright yellow spots mark the wings. The hindwings are blue in the area between the yellow rows near the tail. Each hindwing ends in a circular reddish spot. The underside of each wing has rows of light yellow spots, with bands of orange separated by spatterings of blue. Females usually show more blue coloring and males usually have more yellow. The wing span is 3.5 – 4.5 inches, with the female generally larger than the male.
The undersides of the hindwings are marked with bright orange and a dusting of blue.
In the Upper Midwest, black swallowtails produce two generations of offspring between May and October. The second generation overwinters in a brown chrysalis until the following spring. The caterpillars in my garden probably hatched in May. Depending on weather conditions and host plant availability, the eggs hatch in three-to-nine days. The caterpillars eat and grow through five stages, or instars, as they increase in size and change in appearance, which may take up to 30 days. The mature caterpillar forms its chrysalis and molts one final time. The ones I saw will leave their chrysalises in two-to-three weeks as mature black swallowtails ready to produce the next generation. Adults nectar on clover, milkweed, thistle, bee balm and other perennials. Watch for them to be on the wing in July — and, consider growing one of the more well-behaved members of the parsley family, such as dill, carrot, parsley or sweet fennel, on which this lovely creature can live and dine!
1Also known as goutweed and ground elder, this non-native member of the parsley family was imported and marketed as a fast-growing ground cover that was frequently planted with European buckthorn (Rhombus cathartica) and creeping bellflower (Campanula rapunculoides). There’s also a variegated form called snow-on-the-mountain. Over the years, we’ve had it chemically treated, dug out and the soil replaced, but it returned each time. Now, I just try to prevent it from spreading.
²Other members of the parsley family include carrot, dill, sweet fennel, Queen Anne’s lace and, of course, parsley.
Two toddlers exploring rocks under their parents’ watchful eyes. (They both enjoy nature as young adults now!)
Love for the natural world begins when we are very young. Even the smallest of hands-on experiences ignites a child’s natural curiosity and sense of wonder, and these early encounters stay with us. I remember evenings with my mother…sitting on our front steps and listening to her stories about trees, stars, moths and whatever else presented itself. I know the wonder those times created deep inside of me; a reverence and joy I continue to nurture.
Recently, I watched a mom walk with her toddler, stop and lift him up to touch the leaves of a young maple tree, and pluck a leaf for him to carry. Then the little guy spied an ant hill on the sidewalk. He and his mom watched the bustling activity for a few minutes before moving on to explore a boulevard garden.
Colorful tree leaves are a simple way to introduce nature to young children.
Seeing them raised memories of giving our son leaves, pinecones, acorns and rocks to hold under our watchful eyes. He loved his “pet caterpillars.” He squeezed the first wooly bear I showed him too hard, but we worked on “gentle touch” and held other caterpillars, baby toads and small frogs. Butterflies also were an early delight, both in the garden and while out hiking.
Black swallowtails (Papilio polyxenes) and other butterflies are easy to show to children.
Each summer we watched American robins, cardinals, house wrens, blue jays and mourning doves nest in our urban yard. Using binoculars, we observed them raise their nestlings in our hedge and apple tree. At the cabin, we saw yellow warblers, American redstarts, Baltimore orioles, bluebirds, woodpeckers and many others. In both locations, bald eagles, red-tailed hawks and herons were common overhead.
A hairy woodpecker (Dryobates villous) hunts for insects on an old American elm stump.
Something about those early, joyful experiences stuck with our son. Even now as he studies medicine and has little time outside, he’ll text us about a Cooper’s hawk perched on a fence, a barn swallow nest in a hospital parking ramp, a winter moonrise, or the ducklings and goslings paddling on the creek near his apartment.
If you have children in your life, show them the simple things in nature; there are so many easy activities to enjoy together. Finding rocks, leaves and large seeds is a great place to start. Talk about their shapes, colors and textures. Learn to identify a few of the common trees where you live.
Getting dirty in the garden is great fun for most kids and adults! Plant seeds and tend them together. Carrots, green beans, radishes and marigolds were the first seeds we planted. (We also grew a potted cherry tomato.) We checked for progress everyday, from the first sprout, to buds on beans and marigolds, to harvesting and eating the veggies.
“Watering the garden” was a favorite task at our house!
While gardening, watch for butterflies and moths. Large ones, such as monarchs and swallowtails are easy to point out and talk about. If you grow milkweed, dill or parsley in your garden, you may find caterpillars to show children; monarchs on the milkweed and swallowtails on dill, parsley and other plants in the carrot family.
Monarch caterpillar (Danaus plexippus) on a common milkweed plant (Asclepias syriaca).
In autumn, take a “leaf walk” together and collect colorful leaves. Some kids enjoy pressing the leaves to make a book of the different types, shapes and colors. Most will enjoy piling up the leaves and jumping in them! While you’re out walking, watch for colorful birds and listen for their songs. Learn about the birds that inhabit your community.
Many children like to create nature journals. When our son was a preschooler, he made simple journals from scrap paper. He drew pictures of dragonflies, bees, birds, flowers, rocks and whatever else in nature caught his interest. He’d dictate a few sentences for me to write about each item until he was old enough to write his own. There are also simple journals that you can buy to record your observations together. We used both the “Bird Log” and “Nature Log” by Adventure Publications. These days there are many more options from which to choose. Here’s a link to a few other nature journals for children.
The early darkness of winter evenings makes it easier to view the night sky. Watch the moon wax and wane from a tiny crescent to a luminous globe and back to a sliver. Point out the brighter planets: Venus, Jupiter, Saturn and Mars. If you live away from urban lights, or can drive outside of the city, look at the beautiful Milky Way overhead and at a few of the easier-to-recognize constellations, such as Orion, Canis Major, Gemini and Ursa Major in the Northern Hemisphere. Many children, especially those living in cities, have few opportunities to marvel at a sky full of stars.
During a snowfall, walk together and notice the hush that settles over the land as falling snow muffles all sound. It feels magical, especially at dusk or in the evening. Catch snowflakes on your mittens and point out the variety of their beautiful shapes. A fresh, clean snow is also the perfect opportunity to look for animal tracks, and if the time is right, see the creature who made them! A walk in the woods on a mild winter day reveals the shapes of trees, native grasses and wildflower seed heads. Watch for woodpeckers that stay with us through the long winter and listen for the hooting of owls.
Winter walks are a good time to look for tracks and the creature who made them, like this red squirrel (Tamiasciurus hudsonicus).
As children grow and continue to learn, we can talk with them about endangered and extinct plants and animals, and what each of us might do, even in small ways, to prevent further loss. To that end, providing youngsters with fun experiences and happy memories of nature can help them connect meaning and joy with the natural environment — and that may create a deeper commitment to caring for our beautiful world.
Our summer days included checking the flowers and watching bees, butterflies and other garden insects.
On a windy, warm September evening, the sun has set; the air is soft and dusky. Migration is underway, but not the avian sort. A few large common green darner dragonflies zigzag beneath the trees hawking insects. I look skyward and far above me, a river of swarming green darners surges — hundreds of them — straight south ahead of a cold front.
Born in Minnesota, these green darners migrate to the Gulf Coast of the southern United States and Mexico. When they arrive, they’ll mate and lay eggs to produce the next generation, which will migrate north in April or May. When they arrive here, they will mate and give rise to a new generation before dying. These progeny will hatch by late August and continue the cycle of migration and reproduction.
But that’s not the entire story! Common green darners are present in the north all summer — so where did they come from? There’s a resident population that doesn’t migrate. They’re active and deposit eggs throughout the summer and autumn. However, their young, called naiads, won’t mature until the following spring. They will wait out the winter on the bottom of a pond, marsh or slow-moving river or stream.
Averaging 3 inches in length, and with a wingspan of 3.5 inches, green darners are among our largest dragonflies. This one also is a female. Males’ abdomens are bright blue.
Green darner adults eat mosquitoes, midges and other flying insects. The aquatic naiads feast on mosquito larvae and other aquatic insects, tadpoles and tiny fish. Green darners are eaten by spiders, large robber flies and birds such as kestrels.
I found this little wooly bear asleep in the garden under a pile of fallen leaves and tucked it back in for the winter.
I miss the hum and activity of bees, butterflies and other insects that populate our garden. But, as I finished up some outdoor work, I was reminded that their absence is temporary. I spotted a familiar small, fuzzy form: a banded wooly bear caterpillar (Pyrrharctia isabella) asleep for the winter beneath some fallen leaves.
Though we usually call these little creatures wooly bears or wooly worms, there are more than 260 different species of them in North America. Each has a different coloration and becomes a distinct species of moth. The banded wooly bear is black on both ends with rusty orange in the middle. When the caterpillar reaches maturity, it becomes an Isabella tiger moth. Though I’ve seen many banded wooly bears, I have yet to see the moth, which is usually a muted orange, salmon or yellow color with black spots on its body and wings.
Wooly bears are generalists — they eat many types of plants including grass, clover and weeds. This one had just crossed the Lake Nokomis walking path in Minneapolis.
The banded wooly bear caterpillar grows up to 2 inches in length. Its fuzzy body is covered in tiny bristles called setae that are black on the caterpillar’s ends and rusty orange in the middle. The number of orange segments increases as the caterpillar grows. Though a few people might be sensitive to the bristles, most have no problems handling the caterpillars. I remember carrying them around as a child and holding them with our toddler son on nature walks.
Is it true that the size of a wooly bear’s orange band predicts the quality of the winter ahead? No, according to the sources that I read (please see the list below). Explanations include: the size of the orange band increases as the caterpillar grows; those with more orange grew up in a drier habitat and those with more black segments grew up where it was moister; lots of variety occurs naturally among caterpillar populations; and there’s plenty of disagreement among all of these views. In spite of the arguments, it’s fun to observe, compare and chart the size of wooly bears bands — especially with children!
Banded wooly bears in Canada and the northern United States typically produce one brood each year, though two generations are possible. Those that hatch in August feed until late autumn. They eat a broad range of grass, weeds and wildflowers, and aren’t crop pests. In autumn, they enter quiescence (a type of insect dormancy) for the winter, usually in leaf litter, or under a log or rock.
Look for wooly bears on sunny, mild autumn days. This one crossed the Sakatah Singing Hills Trail in southern Minnesota.
How do they survive our harsh winter? They produce a cryoprotectant,¹ an antifreeze to prevent cells from rupturing when they repeatedly freeze and thaw. The bristles or setae also help the caterpillar to freeze on the outside first, protecting the inner organs. In the spring, each caterpillar will awaken from quiescence, resume feeding and spin its cocoon. About two weeks later, an adult Isabella tiger moth will emerge.
Banded wooly bears range throughout the United States, Canada and even into Mexico. You might catch a glimpse of them feeding in the spring, but it’s more likely that you’ll spot one in autumn when you’re out walking, biking, or working in your garden.
¹The cryoprotectant is produced by other wooly bear species, too. In fact, the Arctic wooly bear (Gynaephora groenlandica) caterpillar has a life cycle that stretches over seven or more years! The Arctic summers are so brief that the caterpillars must feed and enter quiescence repeatedly for several years before gaining enough biomass to metamorphose into a moth. Overall, they spend 90 percent of their lives dormant and frozen! (For more about the Arctic wooly bear, follow the link above to the Scientific American Blog.)
This tiny gray tree frog’s green camouflage helps hide it in nature. (All of the tree frogs for this post were photographed by my sister in her garden.)
Like tiny amphibious chameleons, gray tree frogs (Hyla versicolor) change color to match their surroundings. Sometimes bark-like gray or brown, at times a leafy green, and at others a mottled combination of color that mimics lichens or rocks, these tiny frogs elude predators through camouflage. Sometimes they even display a shade of creamy white or tan. No matter what color they exhibit, all gray tree frogs have bright yellow or orange marks under their thighs.
Why are they “tree” frogs rather than just frogs? All species known as tree frogs (or treefrogs) have large toe pads that enable them to climb trees, sides of buildings, and other structures. Climbing trees is all about catching the wide variety of food available there on warm summer nights: small insects and their larvae, spiders, mites, aphids, snails and even smaller frogs. At night gray tree frogs also climb sides of houses to perch on windows and capture small moths and other insects attracted to light. Because gray tree frogs are nocturnal, I often hear rather than see them unless they perch on the windows. What preys on them? Small mammals such as skunks, raccoons and opossums. Snakes, birds and larger frogs also eat them.
Artificial lights attract gray tree frogs in search of insects. This little one climbedthe side of the house.
Gray tree frogs typically inhabit woodland edges and gardens near water. We’ve seen them at our cabin in rural Minnesota, and my sister, who lives in a Twin Cities suburb, has regulars that hang out in her garden. They pop up in damp places — the cat’s water dish, inside her garden watering can, under flower pots, on the patio furniture and in her small fountain. Adults are typically found higher up in trees or shrubs, while younger tree frogs are more terrestrial.
This tree frog’s golden color blends well with the potted plant.Gray and charcoal hues help camouflage a tree frog on this weathered deck.
Unlike most frogs, the gray tree frog sounds more like a bird as it trills its one-note call. They breed from April to July and call most frequently during May and June, though it can be as early as April and as late as September. Females lay their eggs near a shallow pond or pool of water. Hatching and development takes about 7-8 weeks. They reach adulthood in two years and the average life span ranges from 5 to 7 years. Adult size is generally 1-to-2 inches (3-to-5 cm) in length.
Tree frogs hibernate on land, usually buried under leaf litter, fallen logs and other materials. Their bodies produce glycerol, which is converted to glucose. Large amounts of glucose in the frog’s vital organs acts as an antifreeze. Ice crystals will form in the body cavity and under the skin, but the lungs and heart are protected from freezing, and stop functioning until spring. Warm weather will thaw the frog and it will revive and continue its life. Gray tree frogs live in eastern North America from New Brunswick to Manitoba, south to northern Florida and west to central Texas.
Native bloodroot flowers (Sanguinea canadensis) emerge with a single leaf tightly wrapped around each of them. (Notice the early native bee near the top of the photo!)
One of Minnesota’s earliest native wildflowers is bloodroot, (Sanguinea canadensis). Given its name, you might expect a scarlet or crimson flower. In fact, it blooms ice-white with a sun-gold center, though some emerge light pink. They look out of place, so stark and fresh among the remains of last year’s woodland growth and garden detritus. Its name refers to the toxic red-orange sap in the rhizome or root.
Each bloom emerges wrapped in a single curling leaf like a little blanket. The leaf remains curled until the blossom withers and then unfurls into a rounded leaf with a varying number of lobes. The leaves range in color from light green to blue-green depending on the plant’s age and condition. In its natural setting, bloodroot often grows along woodland edges, which provide sun in early spring and shade when the trees leaf out. In my garden, it grows along the edge of an arbor vitae hedge and under an ash tree. With shade and regular watering, bloodroot creates a pretty ground cover that lasts all summer under deciduous trees. If they aren’t watered during summer’s hot, dry spells, bloodroot leaves just go dormant until the following spring.
Sometimes the flowers have a pink coloration when they open.
Native bees, honey bees and beetles pollinate bloodroot, which also can self-pollinate. Fertilized flowers form elongated capsules that enclose spherical seeds colored black, red, or brown. Here’s what’s special about bloodroot seeds: Each produces an elaiosome, an attachment containing lipids, amino acids and other nutrients. Attracted to these nutrients, ants carry the seeds back to their nests and feed the elaiosomes to their larvae. The ants either discard the remaining seed in a separate chamber of their nest, or toss it back out onto the ground. Either way, this process, called myrmecochory, helps ensure that the bloodroot seeds are dispersed for germination. Other spring wildflowers, such as violets, trilliums, hepaticas and Canada wild ginger, also form this mutual relationship with ants.
Ants help disperse the seeds after ripe bloodroot pods split open.
A member of the poppy family, bloodroot is native to much of eastern North America from Nova Scotia south to Florida, west to Manitoba and south to Texas. Native Americans used the plant’s red sap to make paint and to dye clothing, leather and other items. It blooms from March to May in Minnesota woodlands and was one of the first native wildflowers that I identified in the woods at our cabin years ago. The plants in most of these photos grow in our backyard. They hold special meaning for me because they were a gift from my aunt, who grew them under her trees for decades. They remind me of how she nurtured my love for nature when I was young.
Native bloodroot covers a hillside above the Mississippi River in the Twin Cities.
Raindrops collect on new spirea (Spirea japonica) leaf rosettes.
On a recent morning, a friend looked outside and noticed the green blush beginning on trees and bushes. She recalled a teaching colleague’s comment during playground duty years ago. The colleague, a quiet woman of few words said, joyfully, “Oh, take a look! Spring is happening right before our eyes!”
Indeed it is. Thunderstorms, rain and mild temperatures coaxed baby leaves from their snug buds. They open like tiny green roses, flawless and smooth, not yet chewed upon by insects or mammals. Even on these cloudy, gray days buds and baby leaves paint the landscape in soft pastel greens and yellows. Don’t miss their fleeting, fragile beauty! They’ll quickly mature to full size and summer’s cool greens.
Many baby leaves, like these oaks, emerge in shades of yellow or “spring green” and later deepen to their full color.
New leaves open like flawless green roses on dwarf Tina Sargent crabapple (Malus sargentii ‘Tina’)
Nature, Garden, Life 