according: to season TALKS. ABOVT THE FLOWERS IN THE OP,J)£IV OF THEIP^ A P P £ A R A N C E IN THE V OODS AND T EDS .Y yAP^ WILDA/A STAI\1\_ DANA -^ .; V.M viOMNSTON 62i3 LEXINGTON AVENUE NEW YORK ^ 2S3/,l ACCORDING TO SEASON ACCORDING TO SEASON TALKS ABOUT THE FLOWERS IN THE ORDER OF THEIR APPEARANCE IN THE WOODS AND FIELDS BY /\"^ Mrs. William Starr Dana AUTHOR OF "how TO KNOW THE WILD FLOWERS" ' Ahl well I mind the calendar, Faithful through a thousand years, Of the painted race of flowers." —EMERSON UNTAUT HEW YOHK SOT A NIC A L CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1894 Copyright, 1894, by CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS TROW DIRECTORY PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY NEW YORK cr> Preface /« that the aim of this little volume is the stimula- tion of an observant love of nature, and espe- cially the increase of knowledge about our plants., it is similar to ''How to Know the Wild Flower s^ "But in each book this has been attempted in so different a mood and manner that I feel confi- dent that neither encroaches upon the province of the other. The present classification — if a word so suggestive of technicalities can be used — is " according to season," and incidentally, Jocalitjf, enabling the reader to start upon each tour of discovery with so clear a notion as to what he may expect to find, and where he may expect to find it, as materially to increase the chances of a successful expedition. Thanks are due to the editor of the Tribune for permission to republish the articles which ap- peared in his journal last summer. CO Csj Frances Theodora Dana. New York^ March 5, 1894. Table of Contents PAGE Introductory i April and Early May 13 May and Early June 31 June and Early July 47 Midsummer 67 Early August 93 Late August and Early September . iii Autumn 129 Index 151 I Introductofy Self-sown my stately garden grows , The winds and wind-blown seed, Cold April rain and colder snows My hedges plant and feed. From mountains far and valleys near The harvests sown to-day Thrive in all weathers without fear, — Wild planters, plant away ! —Emerson. Behold there in the woods the fine madman .... he accosts the grass and the trees ; he feels the blood of the violet, the clover, and the lily in his veins ; and he talks with the brook that wets his foot.— Emerson. I Introductory jHAT we know so little, as a people, of our birds, trees, rocks and flowers, is not due, I think, so much to any in- born lack of appreciation of the beautiful or interesting, as to the fact that we have been obliged to concentrate our energies in those directions which seemed to lead to some immediate material advantage, leaving us little time to expend upon the study of such objects as promised to yield no tangible remuneration. Then, too, our struggle for existence has taken place largely in towns where there is almost nothing to awaken any dormant love of 3 Introductory nature. But, little by little, we are changing all that. Each year a larger portion of our city population is able to seek the refreshment and inspiration of the country during those months when it is almost, if not quite, at its loveliest. And while among this constantly increas- ing class, there are many, undoubtedly, who ''having eyes to see, see not," even among sights sufficiently fraught with interest, one would suppose, to awaken the curiosity of the dullest, yet there are others, many others, who can cry with Mr. Norman Gale, *' And oh, my heart has understood The spider's fragile line of lace, The common weed, the woody space ! " who are quick to detect each bird-song, and eager to trace it to its source ; who follow curiously the tiny tracks of the wood creatures ; who note the varied outlines of the forest leaves, and discover 4 Introductory the smallest of the flowers that grows be- neath them. If we do not happen ourselves to be blessed with a natural turn for observa- tion, a little companionship with one of these more fortunate beings will persuade us, I think, that the habit is one which it would be both possible and desirable to cultivate. It had never occurred to me, for example, that it would be worth while to look for wild flowers on Fifth Avenue, until a certain morning when a keen- eyed botanical companion stooped and plucked from an earth-filled chink in its pavement, a little blossom which had found its way hither from some country lane. Since then I have tried to keep my wits about me even on that highway of the Philistines. We are prone, most of us, to be inac- curate as well as unobservant ; and I know of no better antidote to inaccuracy than a faithful study of plants. It is 5 Introductory sometimes difficult for the flower-lover to control his impatience when he hears his favorites recklessly miscalled ; and in this improving exercise he has ample oppor- tunity to become proficient, for many people cling w4th peculiar tenacity and unreasonableness to their first erroneous impression of a flower's name. They consider anything so vague and poetic fair game for their ready imaginations, glibly tacking the name of one flower to another with inconsequential lightheart- edness. Occasionally they have really been misled by some similarity of sound. Such was the case of an acquaintance of mine who persisted in informing the va- rious companions of his rambles that the little pink-flowered shrub which blossoms in June on our wooded hillsides was the sheep-sorrel ; and refused to be persuaded that the correct title was sheep - laurel. His ear had caught the words incorrect- ly; but although this explanation was 6 Introductory suggested, supplemented by the argu- ments that the laurel - like look of the flowers at once betrayed their lineage, and that the sheep - sorrel was the plant with halberd-shaped leaves and tiny clus- tered flowers which in spring tinges with red the grassy uplands, he would only re- ply with dignified decision that his convic- tion was based on trustworthy authority. So, perhaps, in at least one small circle, sheep-laurel is sheep-sorrel to this day. But the uninitiated probably allow their imaginations to run more rife with the orchids than with any other flowers. They are usually quite positive as to the general correctness of their conception of an orchid, and unless you are prepared to be made the object of a very genuine aversion, you will beware of trying to convince them of the error of their ways. In response to any such attempt they will defiantly challenge you: ''Well, then, what is an orchid ? ' ' and woe betide you 7 Introductory if you cannot couch your reply in half a dozen words of picturesque and unmis- takable description. The term orchid is dear to their hearts. Whenever they discover a rare and striking flower they like to grace it with the title, and are sure to bear you a grudge for depriving them of the pleasurable power of confer- ring this mark of floral knighthood at will. Last year a friend of mine hap- pened for the first time upon the lovely fringed polygala. Her delight in its but- terfly beauty was unbounded. Having learned its name and studied its odd form she turned appealingly to me : '' Could you ever call it an orchid ? " she asked ; and I was unpleasantly conscious of my apparent churlishness in refusing to ennoble, even temporarily, so exquisite a creation. And perhaps it may be explained as well here as elsewhere that to the botanist the chief charm of the orchid lies in its 8 Introductory marvellous adaptation to fertilization by insects. Even the schoolboy nowadays is taught that the object of vivid coloring and striking form in a flower is not man's delight, but the production of seed ; in other words, the continuance of the species. He learns that by these means insects are attracted to the nectar-yielding blossoms, and that while rifling them fo their treasure, they inadvertently brush upon their bodies, from the little dust- bags known as anthers, some life-giving pollen which later they are sure to de- posit, again unconsciously, upon the moist, roughened disk or stigma of the next flower they visit. Here, the botany teaches, the tiny grains emit tubes which penetrate to the ovules in the ovary be- low and quicken them into life. Now it is believed that ' orchids are pe- culiarly unfitted to fertilize themselves — that is, if the pollen from the dust bags, or anthers, of any given flower of this 9 Introductory family should contrive to reach the moist disk or stigma of that same flower, the chances are that either the little grains would fail to act at all upon the ovules, or that the resultant seeds would lack the vigor so necessary to their survival of the fierce combat in which they are destined to engage. So we observe that the dif- ferent organs are often so placed that the pollen cannot reach the stigma of its own flower ; and in the orchids especially we find that the most elaborate devices are resorted to in order to attract insect visi- tors, and to insure the lodgement of the pollen in the right spot. After twenty years of study of the subject, Darwin doubted if he thoroughly understood the contrivances in a single orchid ; so it is not to be wondered that these flowers, even the most inconspicuous among them, invariably awaken eager interest in the student of plant life. " I hke flowers, but I hate to pull Introductory them to pieces," is the cry of the lazy nature-lover. Surely if we like a thing we wish to know something about it, to enjoy some intimacy with it, to learn its secrets. Who actually cares most for flowers, the man who glances admiringly at them and turns away, or he who stud- ies their structure, inquires into the func- tion of each part, reads the meaning of their marvellous coloring, and translates the invitation expressed by their fra- grance? I doubt if he who has never been so brutal as *' to pull a flower to pieces," even dimly understands all the strange, sweet joy of a wood walk these spring days, when we are tempted eagerly — almost breathlessly — but always rever- ently, with the reverence that is born of even the beginnings of knowledge, and by so much superior to that which springs from ignorance, to turn the pages and decipher what we can ** In nature's infinite book of secrecy." Introductory AVhen we learn to call the flowers by name we take the first step toward a real intimacy with them. An eager sports- man who had always noticed and won- dered about the plants which he met on every fishing expedition, wrote to me a few weeks since that hitherto he had felt toward them as the charity-boy did about the alphabet, ' ' he knew the little beg- gars by sight, but he couldn't tell their names ! " And it has seemed as though a series of papers describing the different flowers to be found in the woods and fields, and by the roadsides, during the months designated in their titles, might not only be helpful to those who care to "tell their names," but might increase the actual number of plants discovered, as one is far more likely to be successful in his search if he has a definite concep- tion of what he can reasonably hope to find. 12 II April and Early May April and Early May he rides, he drives, fearful of missing some prize, with watchful eyes ''down- ward bent." I confess to the warmest sympathy with that host or guide whose efforts as cicerone are constantly frustrated by the impatience with which his well- meant expositions are met. It must be exceedingly annoying to have the com- panion of your drive persist in scanning that side of the road which affords no view, apparently, save that of underbrush, while on the other hand stretch ranges of glorious mountains or peaceful valleys; and simply irritating that the friend whom you have chosen to share with you the beauty of the sunset, say, should incon- siderately interrupt your dissertation upon the quality of the light which is envelop- ing the hillside, by a disproportionate ex- clamation of joy as he tears a bedraggled- looking weed from a cleft in the rocks. No, the would-be botanist can hardly be called companionable, save to himself. i6 April and Early May Here, indeed, lies the secret of the charm. He needs no listener to make his rhap- sodies satisfying. Every walk abroad is companioned. He rides a hobby which carries him quite as satisfactorily as far more expensive steeds. Less unattainable than a hunter or an indefinite number of polo-ponies, equally it keeps him out of doors, yields him infinite excitement, at times bears him into actual danger, for many a botanist has taken his life into his hands in his search for a coveted specimen. One case of a life's being lost for a flower has come within my personal knowledge. While as a cure for a cer- tain sort of nervousness, I know nothing better than a taste for field botany. A marshy, deep-grown meadow once meant to me only a place to be avoided at all costs, a possible, nay a probable, harbor- age for the kind of snakes only familiar to me from visits to the Central Park me- nagerie, the London Zoo, and closely ensu- 17 April and Early May ing dreams. The mere thought of vent- iirinsf across such a tract of land made me shrink with terror; yet to-day the chance of discovering some new orchid, or even a less rare plant, would lead me knee-deep into its midst, without even stopping to consider its slimy possibilities. Once the reaction of disappointment should set in, I own that my retreat might be far from stately. But I began by saying that during one season only, with the exception of winter, are the eyes of the botanist fixed above more uniformly than below. This is during the early spring, when pretty nearly the only flowers are borne by the trees and shrubs. Ordinarily, these blos- soms do not seem to be accredited with any existence at all. I have heard peo- ple exclaim with surprise, at the mention of an elm in flower. The city room of a friend of mine looks out upon the spread- ing branches of a maple. Its occupant i8 April and Early May takes great pleasure each spring in watch- ing what she calls ' ' the first leaves ' ' un- fold themselves; these so-called leaves really being the flowers, very evidently flowers, it would seem, from their brief endurance ; very easily ascertained to be flowers, should a few specimens be gath- ered for inspection from the thickly strewn pavement below. I remember, too, that when I first planned to write a book about wild flowers, an exceed- ingly intelligent man asked me if I purposed including ' ' fruit - blossoms. ' ' ''Fruit-blossoms?" I asked, sincerely puzzled, not apprehending why one kind of blossoms should be thus designated rather than another, the object of the life of flowers in general being fruit. "Yes! fruit-blossoms," he repeated im- patiently ; " surely you know what they are ! " " Frankly, I don't," I answered. "Why, /r^^-blossoms, of course; apples and pears and peaches and cherries ! " '9 April and Early May he explained, evidently supposing, in common, I find, with many others, that * ' tree-blossoms ' ' were chiefly confined to the domesticated fruit-trees. We find some of the shrubs flowering even earlier than the trees. During the winter we noticed that the thickets were hung with the scaly catkins of the al- ders. As spring comes on these catkins swell and soften into tassels of gold and purple ; tassels which are composed of male or staminate flowers, the female or pistillate ones being borne in two or three erect, oblong, cone-like heads. In hollows still filled with ice and snow, the willows are wearing their soft gray furs. If we break ofl" a branch closely set with the silken " pussies," as the children call them, and place it in a jar of water in the sunshine, the gray soon tiu-ns to gold, and the least touch dislodges a yellow cloud of pollen. A shrub which flowers a little later than the early wil- April and Early May lows is the spice -bush, bearing on its leafless stems close little bunches of pale yellow blossoms which yield an aromatic, faintly penetrating fragrance. The swamp maple has long been noted for the brilliancy with which it lights the borders of the autumn woods, edging the forest with a flame which daily creeps farther and farther into its midst. It is almost equally noteworthy in April, when from its bare branches burst small clusters of scarlet flowers which show viv- idly against the cold blue of the spring skies ; and which later, as I remember one year, may fall, like a shower of blood, upon smooth sheets of late snow ; snow which, as it melts, gently uncovers to the sun blue patches of violets. There is a wonderful enchantment about these surprises of the young year. For they are always surprises, never mind how often we have experienced them or how unfailingly we await them. The aroma 21 April and Early May of the first breath of spring, the concen- trated exhalations of the earliest growing things, is fraught with an irresistible in- toxication — the intoxication of youth it- self. The silver maple flowers even earlier than its sister of the swamps and low woods, but its yellow or reddish blos- soms are less conspicuous. The sugar- maples leaf and flower simultaneously ; while the blossoms of the striped and mountain species appear when the trees are in full foHage. With our native elms we find that the blossoms invariably pre- cede the leaves. From the graceful branches of what is perhaps the most beautiful of our trees, the American or white elm, the also yellow or reddish flower- clusters droop from their slender stems in April ; while the little, close-set bunches of the slippery, or red, elm may be looked for as early as March. Like their near of kin, the alders, the April and Early May birches have long been hung with the cat- kins which are now developing into tas- sels of yellow flowers ; the female flowers, again, as in the alders, being borne in j short, oblong clusters. A little later we / notice the blossoms of the beech, the male i ones drooping in small heads, the femalei ones (which later yield the prickly " beechy nuts ") usually being paired at the tip of a short stalk. Although most of these blossoming trees make little show of brilliancy, relying largely, I suppose, upon the winds for the transfer of their pollen, and thus without inducement to deck themselves as gayly as would be advisable were they depend- ent upon the visits of insects, the effect of their leafless branches festooned with slender tassels and tiny flower-clusters is wonderfully delicate and feathery. Once appreciated — for these earliest revelations seem strangely ignored, as though there were no visible life until the facts of 23 April and Early May flower and foliage became conspicuously apparent — their significant beauty is al- ways anticipated with renewed eagerness. If one looks earthward — where these days the pale sunshine lies with the brood- ing tenderness of a bird upon its nest, patiently awaiting the life about to burst into being — he sees a multitude of little green cornucopias that are pricking their way upward with a vast deal of de- termination, undaunted by the matted mass of decaying leaves, failing to be driven back even by the late snowfall. These small objects are so closely ' ' done- up ' ' that they suggest young babies out for their first airing. They have the air of aggressive secrecy peculiar to prize-packets — as if challenging one to guess their con- tents. And unless our eyes are trained by years of observation, we are indeed quite unable to identify the different plants ; to conjecture that this papery wrapping in- folds the pale leaf and pure blossom of the 24 April and Early May ruj ZJ bloodroot ; that that vindictive looking ;-^* • spear, composed of closely plaited leaves, heralds the yet remote appearance of the unlovely flowers of the false hellebore; that these slender needles will expand with the feathery foliage and fragile blossoms of the anemone. But from some last year leaves we are enabled to predict that from certain silken coils will peep the blue eyes of the liyer- •^ ^ woi^- We greet joyfully the familiar ever- green leaves of the trailing arbutus, and when our eager fingers have pushed aside the drifts of dead leaves, we discover a few early, aromatic clusters of its waxen flowers. Not till the shad-bush flings its white clusters across the brook, does the blood- root consent to lay aside its wraps and spangle the ground with its snowy gold- centred blossoms. The purity of this flower is only accentuated by the blood- like drops which ooze from its broken 25 April and Early May flower and foliage became conspicuously apparent — their significant beauty is al- ways anticipated with renewed eagerness. If one looks earthward — where these days the pale sunshine lies with the brood- ing tenderness of a bird upon its nest, patiently awaiting the life about to burst into being — he sees a multitude of little green cornucopias that are pricking their way upward with a vast deal of de- termination, undaunted by the matted mass of decaying leaves, failing to be driven back even by the late snowfall. These small objects are so closely ' ^ done- up ' ' that they suggest young babies out for their first airing. They have the air of aggressive secrecy peculiar to prize-packets — as if challenging one to guess their con- tents. And unless our eyes are trained by years of observation, we are indeed quite unable to identify the different plants ; to conjecture that this papery wrapping in- folds the pale leaf and pure blossom of the 24 April and Early May nil^J bloodroot; that that vindictive looking t ^