The first hint of fall was delivered to me in quite the unusual way. I was sitting in my truck at the corner of Mannsdale Park Drive and Highway 463 at what must be the longest red light in the state. Pondering whether to pretend to be color blind and make a left regardless of red, yellow, or green, and head towards the delta, my hesitation turned out to be a wise decision. Not that Madison’s finest was lurking behind a bush, it was what I would have missed had I proceeded forward. Crossing from west to east, while I was facing north, far above the tree line, the erratic flight of a group of small birds caught my attention. They jockeyed for position in a horizontal line, twisting and turning at seemingly Mach 1 speed. I knew in an instant the species, and I bet the small, blue-winged teal were headed for the reservoir. Most years the changing hue from late summer to early fall is indicated by subtle changes in the local flora instead of migrating waterfowl. However, this year the first sign goes to the ducks.
For me, I usually pick out the first change on the sycamores just west of highway 49 on the bank of the Big Black River. The ever so slight transition from dark green to a hint of gold is barely noticeable unless you know what you’re looking for. However, this year, the drought stopped the production of chlorophyll prematurely instead of the normal process that usually occurs. When daylight wanes, and photosynthesis downshifts a gear, the dominant pigment chlorophyll slowly gives way and allows the other pigments like the carotenoids, anthocyanins, and flavonoids to be expressed. The orange, purple, crimson, and gold colors have been in the leaf hiding all summer. They have just been masked by the overwhelming power of Mr. Green Jeans. Just waiting for their opportunity to come to the show, as soon as the chlorophyll takes a deep breath, they jump out for the center of attention until Jack Frost knocks them from the tips of the branches.
One of my favorite plant species has just begun to emerge from the drought-stricken soils re-emphasizing the fact that fall is truly on her way. You may notice it more in late fall and winter than now. If you look closely, you can pick out the blue-green stems along the sides of the ditches and right of ways. It has an iridescence that is very appealing. Only about two feet in height right now, it waves in the breeze like shimmering fields of grain. This species of grass known as broomsedge bluestem or whiskey grass is popping up everywhere. It got the name whiskey grass because it was once used as packaging for bottles of American whiskey that were shipped to Australia. In a few weeks the blue stems will begin to turn purplish to orange and then straw-colored when mature. When gathered and tied into bundles, it makes for a nice addition for Halloween decorations. Of course, a “witches’ broom” can also be made from this species, complementing seasonal décor. Be on the lookout for this telltale sign of fall, it’s everywhere.
Have you noticed the abundant display of small, bright yellow flowers in dense clusters on top of tall stems across over-grown weed fields? These plants, like hidden pigments in leaves, have been growing all summer. Not catching our attention until late summer, the fields seem to burst with yellow almost overnight. A member of the family Asteraceae, and to the genus Solidago, there are over 100 species of this herbaceous perennial known as goldenrod. For the next month or so, goldenrods can be noticed in masse in the late summer landscape. These plants provide nectar for butterflies and honeybees. Often thought of as the cause of late summer allergies, the species is falsely accused as the more bothersome ragweed is present at the same time the goldenrod blooms. Keep in mind, you won’t find the abundance of these yellow flowers until this time of year offering another hint of what’s on the way.
Along the walking trail in our neighborhood, stands an iconic tree, almost umbrella in shape. In most years, one can detect the most pleasant aroma as you walk past it in late summer. Cyclists ride the serpentine trail frequently, crushing the fallen fruit with their skinny tires. If they only knew what they were “stomping.” Coming across as a combination of strawberry and figs in smell, at least to me, the small drupes or stone fruit of this species is bitter to the taste. However, when rendered into jelly, there is nothing better than what the wild September plum offers. Deep purple in color on the tree, these morsels from the branches produce the most vibrant red colored jelly one can imagine.
However, the color is pale in comparison to the taste. It’s a hard choice to make when those biscuits emerge from the oven. Should I reach for the pear preserves, or go for the plum jelly? I think I will have one of each, or perhaps more. Sadly, the only choice I have this fall will be the pears. The cold snap in late March stole the blooms thus no fruit was produced. At least this is what happened to “my” tree. If yours produced, I’ll trade a few jars with you. You’ll only find these in September, hence, another sign from the flora that fall is near.
Maybe I saved the best for last. You can be assured that fall is truly on the trek to our quaint villages when this magical plant makes its appearance on the landscape. Even Mother Nature can’t be fooled when this one emerges, seemingly almost overnight, when conditions are just right. Flowering in late summer or early autumn, often in response to heavy rainfall, most everyone will recognize it by the brilliant, bright-red flowers extending slightly upward and outward from the flower’s center. When in peak bloom, the spindly stamens resemble that of spider legs. Now you know I could only be referring to what we know as the red spider lily. Others may refer to this novel plant species as the red magic lily, corpse flower, or equinox flower. If one does, this is a telltale sign that “they not from around these here parts.”
This species was one of my mom’s favorite fall flowers. Not just because of its beauty, but for the anticipation of when it would arrive and what that meant for all of us that simply live for this time of year. I’m a little ahead in my writing, perhaps by a few weeks. I haven’t yet noticed them, but maybe by the time this article lands at your doorstep, they may have blossomed. There are several clumps of these hidden gems up and down Stokes Road west of Canton. We have a game of who will be the first to see them. The winner is still to be announced.
Yes, summer is drawing to a close. I invite you to take notice of the signs the local flora is subtly sending to us offering clues of what is on the nearby horizon. What a spectacular season, hopefully, is in store for us as autumn’s arrival will be nature’s last hurrah before the wrath of winter takes over. It is uncertain what the fall foliage will bestow upon us with the extreme drought we have experienced. I hope color is not subdued and all that we will have to admire is brown, desiccated leaves. Time will tell, but I have faith that the color will still explode. Join me with this thought and who knows, it could venture to something spectacular. We’ll know for sure soon. Until next time, enjoy our woods and waters and remember, let’s leave it better than we found it.
