The lower meadows and cliffs at the east end of Cloverpatch Butte can be seen from across the river.

The lovely sunny weather of the last week made me anxious to go for a real hike, so yesterday (February 4), I decided to continue my attempt to survey all the meadows of Cloverpatch Butte. This time my goal was to explore the large area directly below the largest meadow the trail cuts through. I wasn’t entirely sure it would be possible—there are cliffs at the base of every section of meadow—but it was worth trying. Then, if I could find a good route, it would save me time when I return after the flowers are actually out.

The unusual cotyledon leaves of Clarkia species look a bit like bowling pins.

After a quick stop at the Black Canyon Campground to get a look at the meadows from across the river, I drove up to the trailhead on Tire Creek Road 5826. Thankfully the road is in fine condition. This early in the year, you can’t count on that. I was a little surprised to see quite a few snow queen (Synthyris reniformis) starting to bloom along the trail. There were far more than at my house, a thousand feet lower in elevation. There were lots of fairy slipper (Calypso bulbosa) leaves evident, some quite a deep purple. This is a great trail for viewing these gorgeous flowers. I was able to collect five more types of seeds to scan for my new gallery, but most plants had already dispersed all their seeds. Many seedlings are already up, among them Nemophila parvifolia and a Clarkia, most likely amoena from the tall dead stalks above them. I’ve seen three species here, so I can’t be sure.

It didn’t take long to get to the main meadow. Like all the other openings on the south side of Cloverpatch Butte, the bottom of the meadow ends in a cliff. I’ve been down here before to see a population of white Phacelia linearis and a good show of Crocidium multicaule. The latter were in evidence on the rocks, but there were no buds showing yet. There’s no climbing down the ten or so feet of rock, but it was almost too easy finding a spot where the vertical cliff gave way to an easy set of rocky steps. I was down in the woods following some deer trails and into the first narrow meadow in minutes. Again there were cliffs at the bottom, but after a quick glance to see nothing much of interest, I headed to the east end and found another relatively gentle slope at the end. Another short stretch of woods and I came out into a large meadow with a great view. I could see Diamond Peak and Groundhog Mountain to the east, Patterson in front of me, and the Middle Fork of the Willamette glistening down below. The perfect spot for lunch.

Miniscule water chickweed (Montia fontana) enjoys mossy seeps. The larger leaves are a monkeyflower (Mimulus sp.).

From here it was it was fairly simple to get down to the next level. Perhaps “level” isn’t the right word for this area—there is precious little flat ground to be found. And with so many serious dropoffs, it is important to watch every step. I made my way over to the east where there were some small seeps in the rocks. This is the most likely place to find interesting plants. I was pleased to find a number of tiny plants and even two flowers of Romanzoffia thompsonii. This grows in the uppermost meadow and in the one just below the trail near the road, so I wasn’t surprised to find it. Still, it is the lowest I think I’ve ever seen this lovely endemic annual. Growing with it were Mimulus and lots of even tinier Montia fontana. These were coming into bloom as well. It is thrilling to see flowers blooming in February, even if they do require a handlens to spot! I also found a single flower of Nemophila pedunculata, another early blooming seep lover and, growing in the drier rocks on the cliff, the first Lomatium hallii had begun to bloom.

Coastal shield-fern (Dryopteris arguta) grows abundantly in the mini oak forests.

Meadow, cliff, and oak habitat alternate in succession in these steep lower openings.

Having gotten down this far as easily as I had, I figured I’d better see if I could get down to the lowest open area as well. This was no problem either. I was quite dismayed when I came out of the woods to find a patch of Scotch broom. This nasty weed could be devastating to these gorgeous meadows. Luckily, the ground was soft enough to pull the small ones and I had the foresight to bring a pair of clippers (in case I got stuck in some of the poison oak that is abundant at this low elevation). I managed to dispatch the couple of dozen plants only to discover another, larger population around the next corner. I didn’t have the energy or proper tools to deal with these larger plants. Perhaps on a return visit. It didn’t appear there was much new to see, at least at this time of year, and with the days still being so short, I decided not to explore this large area. At least I know it is reachable.

The characteristic brown tinge of Heuchera merriamii comes from the way it retains so many dead and dying leaves. Perhaps this protects the plants in their exposed locations.

I headed back up through the woods to the meadow I’d eaten lunch at. As I approached the base of the large cliff I had sat upon while eating, I noticed a number of dense clumps of brownish-green foliage growing high up on the rocks. I dismissed the first thing that popped into my head—Heuchera merriamii—as this was much lower elevation (about 1900′) than any other site I’d seen it at before and on a south-facing cliff to boot, and I’ve never seen it on the more likely cliffs higher up the mountain. I had just started a drawing of the Heuchera the day before, using a cutting I took on Youngs Rock on my last outing, so it was not surprising that it would be on my mind. But what else has that coloring and grows in cracks on cliffs like that? When I finally got close enough to see some lower plants with my binoculars, I was shocked to find my first guess was correct. Eventually I even found a plant low enough to touch for complete reassurance. Damned if I know what it is doing down here in such a warm spot. The lowest I’d seen it growing before was at Watson Falls in Douglas County, but that was closer to 3,000′ and on the cool, north-facing cliff near the waterfall. I guess any plant can surprise you—nor is Cloverpatch done revealing all its secrets to me!

Delphiniums have irregular seeds. Those of the very tall D. glaucum are much larger and a different shape than those from a population of what appear to be hybrid D. nuttalianum x menziesii from Balm Mountain (inset). It will be interesting to see if these last seeds differ from their purebred parents. The ruler increments are millimeters.

For many years, I’ve collected seeds of our native plants, both for my personal use and to share with the NARGS seed exchange, so others could grow some of our beautiful rock plants. After I bought a microscope, I discovered how much variety there is among seeds, even in plants of the same genus. In fact, some species are distinguished by their seeds. This can be hard to do with the naked eye, but it is well worth looking at small seeds under a handlens or microscope.

The fine mesh covering of Romanzoffia thompsonii seeds, similar to that on Castilleja seeds, was a surprise to me.

I set up a system so that I can photograph through my microscope, but, unfortunately, I’m not really satisfied with the results yet. Several years ago, I bought a scanner to replace my old one, which was no longer compatible with my then-new computer. Since I wasn’t doing any artwork at the time, however, I never got around to setting it up. Recently I decided I needed to scan drawings and some old artwork, so I finally set it up. Except for a few that I actually got around to sowing, my collection of seeds has been sitting around for ages waiting for me to figure out how to photograph them. This new scanner is capable of very high resolution in order to scan slides. It occurred to me it might work well for seeds, so I decided to give it a try.

These are seeds of an unidentified rockcress (Boechera sp.) on Eagle Creek Rd. 5883 near Hell's Half Acre. Not all rockcress have wings on the seeds, so this is an important feature to note.

Starting with the larger seeds, I poured some out directly onto the scanner plate. I was thrilled with the results. The smallest seeds—things like saxifrages and Heuchera—are still a bit blurry, but most look quite good. They are nowhere near as detailed as an electron micrograph image, but they are certainly decent enough to use for most identification purposes. And even if one is not interesting in identifying plants by their seeds, they are quite fascinating in their variety and detail. Some I would even say are quite beautiful. I spent several days scanning everything I had available. This fall, I will have to be on the lookout for species I haven’t collected before or haven’t wanted to try to grow, just to see what they look like. I’ll try to add many more to the gallery in the future, but for now, click here for the Seed Gallery to take a look at some of our native seeds. While most are from the Western Cascades, I have included a few from some of my other hikes, so you can see the variety within the genera.

"Gateway Rock" at the top. Large patches of low-growing buckbrush are found to the right of "Uncle Pete" tree.

The first buds appearing on gold star (Crocidium multicaule)

In spite of the dry winter we’ve been having, I haven’t gotten out much. I’ve been focusing on getting back to doing artwork rather than on botany the last few months, so this is my first post for quite a while. But today was another sunny day—although rather chilly—so Sabine, Ingrid and her darling poodle Bogy, and I headed over to the Hills Creek Reservoir area, one of our favorites any time of year. As always, we stopped along the cliffs that line the west side of the reservoir. This is one of the earliest spots to find blooming Crocidium multicaule. We’ve seen an amazing show of it here the last couple of years as a result of the wet springs (see Hills Creek Reservoir,  take 2). While we didn’t really expect to find any blooming on the second week of January, we did manage to see some small plants of these little annuals. Those growing right by the pavement seemed to be farther along and even had a few buds. Their lovely yellow flowers may well start to show up here in February.

Yesterday, I had been looking at a specimen I had collected at Jim’s Oak Patch on a trip to the area last spring. I had trouble finding the location on the map at first, so, since we were close by, we drove up the road to see if it was where I thought it was. There was evidence of recent logging at this restoration site. We could hear the loud chain saw noises across the river at Jim’s Creek, another nearby area being enhanced for oak habitat. The Forest Service had warned us that they were logging there, causing us to nix our plan to hike some of the Youngs Rock Trail. We walked around here a bit, but we wanted to be in a more open area where we could be in the sun, so Sabine had the great idea to see if we could find the ridge immediately to the east of Youngs Rock, an area we named “Gateway Rock Ridge” when we first explored it in 2005. We hadn’t been to the bottom of the ridge since then, and I didn’t have the best maps for the area with us, but somehow we made our way through a maze of back roads to the bottom of the open ridge.

Gorgeous winter color of Oregon grape (Berberis aquifolium)

The sun was really pleasant, and some of the chill had lifted from the air. It was already well after lunch, so we didn’t have much time to explore. We went up only to where we could get close enough to Gateway Rock for me to get a photo. That’s a mere third of a mile from the road, but the 600′ of elevation and abundance of small loose rocks made it more of a workout  than it might seem. We could see a number of plants that would provide colorful blossoms later in the spring. Lomatium utriculatum with its delicate, dissected leaves was abundant throughout the meadow, while the more robust Lomatium hallii appeared in the rockier spots. Gilia capitata seedlings and tiny Lotus micranthus were also evident. Large mats of Eriogonum compositum showed no signs of life yet. Two uncommon shrubs that grow here are rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa) and buckbrush (Ceanothus cuneatus). While the former—a seriously late bloomer—was completely dormant, the latter looked very healthy with many small green leaves and no sign of browsing. It should have a great bloom this spring.

Sabine, Bogy, and Ingrid make the steep descent down the slope.

We sat for a while below Gateway Rock to enjoy the sun and pleasant breeze. There is a great view of Diamond Peak to the east. Unfortunately, that was the only mountain with any significant snow. The ridges of the Calapooyas to the south had only a smattering of snow above 5000′. There was so much more snow in these mountains in June—what’s wrong with this picture? Hopefully, we’ll get some snow before too long—we really need it— but not, like last year, late in the spring when we want to be out botanizing! Ponderosa pines grow abundantly throughout this area, and there is one tree growing alone in the opening just below the rock feature. As I walked by it on my way back down, I noticed someone had bolted an old saw blade to the trunk. On it was written: Uncle Pete 2004. Whether the name referred to the tree or the person who put up the odd sign, we will probably never know, but I’m sure there’s an interesting story there.

Summer is definitely over. The vine maples are turning on a distant talus slope, and new snow has fallen on South SIster.

Thursday (October 13) was supposed to be a nice day, so Sabine and Nancy and I headed east to the mountains. I was hoping to collect a few Gentiana calycosa seeds to go along with the samples I’m going to send to the gentian researchers (see Singing the Blues at Tidbits for more about this project) and any other good rock plants that might be in seed. I decided I’d rather do the longer but less steep to Lowder instead of nearby Horsepasture Mountain where they also grow. The promised sun didn’t materialize, and there were even a few drops of rain, but it was still a pleasant and successful trip.

Indian pipe (Monotropa uniflora) just emerging

We were very surprised to see at least five clumps of blooming indian pipe (Monotropa uniflora) near the beginning of the trail. At least one clump was just starting to nose up above the soil. They were already turning black at Patterson Mountain a couple of weeks ago. Their alarm must not have gone off because that’s a serious case of oversleeping! There were a few thistle (Cirsium remotifolium) and aster (Eucephalis ledophyllus and Symphyotrichum foliaceum) flowers left along the trail and late-flowering annual knotweeds (Polygonum cascadense and P. minimum) in some of the open bare spots. Even the Hall’s goldenweed (Columbiadoria hallii), one of the last flowers to bloom each year, was on its last legs. Otherwise most things were in fruit. There were still some huckleberries, the pretty bright red berries of baneberry (Actaea rubra), and the shiny black fruit of swamp gooseberry (Ribes lacustre), along with more of the pretty blue berries of queen’s cup (Clintonia uniflora).

There were many ripe tiger lily seed capsules near the trail, just starting to crack—perfect for collecting. The buckwheats were also ready for collecting, but I couldn’t face the idea of cleaning all the chaff of their sharp seeds. Penstemons are far easier—you just tip the capsule over and let the seeds roll into the envelope—so I got a small quantity of Penstemon procerus. Paintbrush are quite similarly easy, so I got a few Castilleja hispida to toss into my rock garden. We took a look at the seeds through my hand lens to see the unusual mesh layer around the seed. I’ve been told that it prevents germination, so I’m going to try to remember to rub it off before dumping them in the garden. It’s a really interesting adaptation.

Explorer's gentian on the upper part of the cliff. Most of the buds are aborted. Only the flower on the upper left succeeded in blooming.

My main goal, however, was to find some ripe gentian seeds. After lunching in our usual spot on the ridgetop rock garden part way up, I left my companions to relax while I surveyed the cliff on the front side of the ridge. Unfortunately, most of the gentians grow out of reach on small ledges on the vertical face. There’s only one easy-to-access plant on an upper ledge. I’d seen it on our NPSO Trip to Lowder Mountain in August before it had any buds. Now it was turning yellow. It looked as though most of the flower buds had died without even blooming. They were shaped more like Hershey’s Kisses than their normal long tubes. Perhaps they were coming into bloom just as that late heat wave hit. Only one had a developed seed capsule, but at least it was ripe. There were many other plants turning yellow lower down and farther along the cliff. One plant in particular had bloomed really well, and there was even some blue color left in the flowers. It was quite out of reach, however. But there is one other plant that is growing along the trail rather than on the cliff. On the way back we relocated it, and it had numerous capsules filled with tiny seeds. I collected some and tossed some out along some other rocks. It would be wonderful if it would spread around here. While hanging out on this ridge, we also noticed a flock of birds kept gathering on the one Englemann spruce (Picea engelmannii) on the east end. They turned out to be pine siskins. Clearly the spruce cones were a favorite of theirs because they returned several times.

From the viewpoint on the east side of Lowder, you can see across to O'Leary Mountain and down to the talus slope well below the summit and more cliffs.

When we reached the large opening on the summit, we had hoped to see the masses of Newberry’s knotweed (now Aconogonon davisae) in splendid fall color. It was disappointing to find most of them already collapsed and drying out. Only a few showed how brightly colored they can be in the fall. Whether the heat wave or a frost got them, we weren’t sure. The area where the gentians grow on the ridge is very small, and I’ve wondered if there wasn’t a larger population on the massive cliffs on the east side of the mountain. While there is a huge amount of vertical rock habitat on Lowder Mountain, it is frustratingly and scarily hard to see. But in 2008 (see New Plant for Lowder Mountain), I found a few places where I can get down a little ways north of the main viewpoint and at least get a better look at the front of the cliff with the binoculars. I’d discovered Campanula rotundifolia on the large cliffs after finding it on the small one on that trip, so I wanted to see if the gentians weren’t growing below the summit here as well. I had looked unsuccessfully in the past, but now that the plants were turning bright yellow, they were much easier to see.

Once again, I ditched my patient companions while I climbed down through the woods a little ways. I was really surprised to find quite a few white rhododendron plants (R. albiflorum). They grow to the north on Olallie Ridge, but I didn’t realize they were up on Lowder. Finding additions to my lists always makes me happy, but I was even more pleased to finally be able to see what I’d hoped was there—a number of gentians on the front of the cliff. They were quite a ways below me, but with the binoculars I could see at least one plant clearly enough to recognize the fading flowers at the end of the yellowing leaves. Of course, now I’m again obsessed with the idea of getting down below the summit as well as farther northwest along Sawtooth Ridge to the where there are more massive cliffs that are undoubtedly home to more gentians and other cool cliff lovers. But as I still can’t see any reasonable way to do it, I’m afraid it will just have to remain a pleasant pipe dream. Some places aren’t meant to be intruded upon, even by the most well meaning nature lovers.

Rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa) going to seed on the south-facing front of the cliff. The little bumps in the distance are Fuji Mountain and Mount David Douglas.

After a week of rather dreary weather, the weekend turned out to be quite nice. I decided I had too much to do to take the whole day off for a hike, but the clear blue sky Saturday morning (October 8) made it impossible to stay home. My compromise was a quick trip up to Eagles Rest—only a half hour drive and 1.5 mile round-trip hike. I had thought about heading farther up the road to Mount June, but as I drove up Eagles Rest Road, I could see clouds hanging on the summit. That made the decision to do the shorter hike easy.

A ladybug hides in plain sight among the red hairy manzanita (Arctostaphylos columbiana) fruit. Seeing next year's flower buds already makes it easier to be patient until next spring comes.

While next to nothing was in bloom, there was still plenty to see. Many of the shrubs have ripe fruit now. There were blue fruits on both the Oregon grape (Berberis nervosa) and salal (Gaultheria shallon) in the woods. Out on the rocks, the Garrya fremontii had lots of ripe dangling fruit in grape-like clusters. Garrya shrubs are dioecious, so only female plants were covered with fruit. I squished a few to see what the seeds looked like inside. The fruit was quite juicy but didn’t seem to be a big favorite. Most of them were dropping on the ground below. Perhaps small rodents enjoy them. The manzanitas were also covered with fruits. Manzanita is Spanish for “little apple”, and they do look quite a bit like apples, but these Arctostaphylos columbiana “applets” were fuzzy, as are the leaves and stems.

The small raspberry-like fruits of snow bramble (Rubus nivalis) are never very abundant. Perhaps with its running habit, it isn't so dependent on seeds to reproduce.

Clarkia species have long, narrow capsules, much like their relatives, the willowherbs (Epilobium spp.), but their seeds don't have the pretty tufts of white hairs.

Many herbaceous plants were in seed as well. While the down-turned capsules of Calochortus tolmiei lose their seeds immediately upon opening, the upright ones of Fritillia affinis sometimes hold their seeds for a while. I got lucky and found several capsules with seeds still intact. Other bulbous plants including Triteleia hyacinthina and what appeared to be a Brodiaea (not on my list but a late bloomer I could have missed) had ripe seed as well. The capsules of the Brodiaea were on long stalks in an open umbel. Those of the Triteleia were similar but on shorter stalks with rounder capsules. On this grassy level well down the cliff face, there were many dried Clarkia stalks as well. According to an NPSO list, they are most likely Clarkia amoena, but I didn’t get back here to see them bloom, so that’s just a guess. But I collected a few of all these pretty plants to toss in my rock garden. If any come up, they’ll be a nice addition. Unfortunately, the seeds of the pretty cutleaf daisy (Erigeron compositus) were all gone. Like many composites, the fluffy pappus attached to the seed helps keep it aloft while the wind carries it to new sites. If only it would land on nearby Mount June where the habitat seems equally suitable.

Goldback ferns dry up in the summer, but fresh fronds appear with the fall rains.

There are many rock ferns on the giant cliff at Eagles Rest. Lace fern (Cheilanthes gracillima) looks about the same as it does all year, but new fronds of goldback fern (Pentagramma triangularis) were just coming up in the seemingly dead clumps. This is how they weather the summer drought. Lots of large clumps of indian dream fern (Aspidotis densa) were also a combination of dead brown and fresh green fronds. I relocated the single plant of  Rocky Mountain woodsia (Woodsia scopulina) I found in June (see Peak Season at Eagles Rest). It was curling up, but it still looked quite different and far hairier than the similar fragile fern (Cystopteris fragilis), which usually consists of nothing but limp, dead fronds by the end of the summer. I kept my eyes open as I climbed around the rocks, but I never could find any other plants. It always amazes me how a plant can find a home in a crack miles from any others of its species. I hope this one survives and can multiply into the surrounding rocky area.

Explorer's gentian (Gentiana calycosa) growing out of a crack in the rock face at the base of the "east Tidbit". Seeing this same plant well over a decade ago was what first made me wonder if these rock-loving gentians were really the same species as those that grow in wetlands in the High Cascades and elsewhere in the West.

On Friday (September 23), Nancy Bray, Ingrid Ford and her adorable dog Bogy, and I headed up to Tidbits to see the gentians. I had planned to get up there early in the season to see the many great plants that grow on the massive rock formations, but there are just too many places to visit. But although it was actually the first day of fall, there are still a few things to see. Thank goodness for the gorgeous gentians. They are somewhat like dessert after a great meal, saving the best for last, the final sweet treat that lingers with you and tides you over until the next flower season. There are not very many species of Gentiana in the Cascades, and they are never terribly common. Tidbits is one of the few places in the Western Cascades with a good show of gentians, so it is always worth a late season trip.

These Gentiana calycosa were blooming in a wetland near Whitewater Creek on the way up to Jefferson Park.

I’ve mentioned before that I’ve wondered for a long time about the unusual preference for rocky habitat of the Gentiana calycosa in the Western Cascades. In the Vascular Plants of the Pacific Northwest (VPPNW), Gentiana calycosa is described as growing in “meadows, swamps, and streambanks.” It is commonly called mountain bog gentian. Another common name is explorer’s gentian. This is the name I use because our Western Cascades plants never grow in bogs—and, of course, I’m an explorer, and it is my favorite gentian! They do, however, grow in wetlands in the High Cascades. So earlier in the week, my husband Jim and I made the long hike up to Jefferson Park where they were blooming beautifully. I hadn’t been up there in many years, and it was great to see the two different forms of the gentians in the same week. I’ve been collecting Gentian specimens for a couple of researchers (more about this is mentioned in fifth paragraph of  The Quest for Enemion Flowers at Table Rock) and brought home flowering stalks of each. Being able to compare live plants of each type side by side was especially interesting.

Left: Gentiana calycosa from Jefferson Park; Right: from Tidbits

The High Cascades plants near Mt. Jefferson look quite different from those at Tidbits and other Western Cascades sites. They were shorter and quite upright with small, fleshy leaves and very red stems. All these could be just normal adaptations to being out in the sun. The rock-loving plants tend to sprawl and have large, spreading leaves, some as large as the flowers, that feel thinner and floppier. Many were even wilting at Tidbits. These always seem to be found on north-facing talus slopes and cliffs where they get little sun. Larger leaves would help to gather more light. VPPNW describes the leaves as 1–2.5 (3) cm long. Some of the Tidbits plants had leaves as much as 4.5 cm long. They are also much wider near the base rather than ovate and widest in the middle like the Mt. Jefferson plants. But the species is known to be quite variable, and photos from some of my other sites show quite a variety of leaf shapes, although never as small as the wetland ones.

Growing near the plant in the first photo, I originally assumed these were seedlings, but now I think these are just stems from the same plant that popped out of the crack a few feet away.

The flowers look similar, but I did notice that the Jefferson wetland ones had blue anthers and the Tidbits ones had white anthers. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have taken very many photographs looking straight down into the flower, which is the only way to see the anthers deep inside the tube. This is the kind of thing that could be important or could be just local variation. The most striking difference was in the calyx. The flowers from Tidbits have five lobes spreading out evenly at right angles from the tube. This seems to be true at the other Western Cascades sites, judging from my photos. Those from Jefferson Park had two lobes on one side, three clustered together on the other. Like the leaves, they were more-or-less pointing upward.

Another difference was evident when I tried to dig a specimen out of the edge of the talus. I was trying to get back to where it branched, usually just underground. The thick white root just kept going and going. While there were many stems next to each other, the base of the plant seemed to be quite far away. This would be a necessary adaptation to living in unstable rock. I looked at a plant that wasn’t in as much rock and all the stems did branch just under the soil. So while there are certainly differences in the plants in these two habitats, based on my limited data, I would definitely not want to make any conclusions about whether they are genetically different now or just adapted to their local conditions. Many plants can look different from others in their species growing nearby but in different conditions. I will have to see what Gentiana calycosa looks like elsewhere in the West. I am really looking forward to finding out what the Swiss researcher, Dr. Adrien Favre, will find out from the leaves I’ve collected for him to do DNA work on. With such a different preference in habitat and the resulting adaptations needed to survive in these different conditions, I expect they would eventually form their own species, if they haven’t already. VPPNW briefly mentions Gentiana saxicola English, which “appears to be an ecological variant of this variety [var. calycosa], with widely flaring calyx lobes; it is apparently restricted to rock slides and drier areas, rather than moist meadows. Its status at present is uncertain.” I’d sure like to clear up some of that uncertainty!

Left: Bluebells or harebells (Campanula rotundifolia); top: blueberries or huckleberries (Vaccinium membranaceum); bottom: bluebead or queen's cup (Clintonia uniflora); right: blue grouse, now known as sooty grouse (Dendragapus fuliginosus)

The gentians weren’t the only blue things that caught our eye. There were a few left of another late bloomer, Campanula rotundifolia. It also likes the cool, north-facing rocks and becomes more common to the north. I wanted to see if the one light blue gentian I’ve seen in the past was out, so I dragged my friends up the old trail that winds around the east side of the “west Tidbit” rather than the main trail which heads up to the lookout via the west side. Here were the first really good, large, juicy huckleberries (Vaccinium membranaceum). We spent quite some time here, and along with a great afternoon snack (Bogy loved them, too), we each brought home around a pint of berries. On our way down from the top, we scared up two grouse, one of whom flew into a tree by the trail, not really sure what to do next.

Golden hairstreak on pearly everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea)

The color theme changed to gold, however, on our drive back down Road 1509. We stopped at about the 8 mile marker (right by an old green watertank) to look at the bright yellow flowers of Arnica discoidea, a rayless Arnica I rarely see but had noticed here in the past. While many were going to seed, there were still some good flowers on them. There were lots of golden chinquapins (Chrysolepis chrysophylla) growing on the roadbank, one even still with blooms. Where there are chinquapins, there are often golden hairstreaks late in summer as well. These little butterflies use the chinquapin as both a caterpillar host plant and a nectar plant. There were quite a few of them chasing each other up in the trees, but to my great thrill, several were staying low, drinking from pearly everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea) by the road. I usually find them hard to photograph, but these didn’t mind me at all. Earlier, on our way back down the trail, we had wondered why there were a number of them flying around an area filled with rhododendrons, with only a few chinquapins around. Most likely, this was just above where we were here, and some of the numerous butterflies were just flying farther up the slope. Mystery solved and a nice way to end the day.

A lilac-bordered copper nectaring on Alice's fleabane (Erigeron aliceae)

On Tuesday (September 6), I returned to Groundhog Mountain to spend more time watching butterflies and seeing what was still in bloom. Groundhog Mountain is my go-to place when it seems too hot to do any real hiking. After stopping several times to photograph some difficult plants like the tiny-flowered spreading groundsmoke (Gayophytum diffusum), I parked in the wide spot where the bottom of Road 452 meets Road 2309. Already there were lots of butterflies including an unusually pale-bordered Lorquin’s admiral and a fresh hoary comma where the water flowed across the road. He kept disappearing on me when he closed his golden wings and his cryptic gray underside seemed to melt into the gravel road. The first of many Anna’s blues were also enjoying the damp soil. Since I only wanted to go as far as the Monardella area, just under a mile up the road, I walked up from here. It’s only 200 feet or so of elevation gain, and there really are flowers all along the road. The goldenrod was still blooming well along with loads of Eriogonum nudum. I don’t know why these weren’t of interest to the butterflies. They all seemed to be much more interested in the masses of leafy aster (Symphyotrichum foliaceum) and Cascade aster (Eucephalus ledophyllus). There were a good many fritillaries, all apparently hydaspe fritilliaries with cream undersides. I rarely see any of the species with the lovely silvery spots underneath. They seemed to be particular about the coyote mint (Monardella odoratissima). Their other favorite foodplant in my experience is horse mint (Agastache urticifolia), which blooms in one of the wetlands nearby but not along the road. There were lots of skippers and parnassians also enjoying the coyote mint, but the coppers never seemed to land on it at all. I did see one duskywing, a very dark individual, so possibly a Pacuvius, but these little guys seem very hard to tell apart.

It was surprising in September to see water spilling out of the ditches at the intersection of Roads 452 and 2309. The butterflies were puddling here and flowers still bloom along the road.

Miniature gilia (Gilia or Navarretia capillaris) is actually quite pretty when it grows en masse in seepy open spaces between large perennials. I was lucky there were any flowers left this late in the year.

After enjoying the lively butterflies for quite a while, I walked back down to the corner and then down the main road 2309 for a ways. Where the road bends around a hairpin turn, there is an area with lots of columbines earlier in the summer and many patches of open ground in the otherwise lush growth along the road. I’ve stopped here when there were numerous tiny annuals including a great show of the itty-bitty pink Mimulus breweri, which only shows up when it grows en masse like that. I suppose it’s typical of me to walk past all the 3-foot-tall perennials in search of tiny annuals, but this time it paid off. While most of the annuals in this spot were pretty well dried out, I did notice some unusual but vaguely familiar three-parted seed capsules. Gilia capillaris (now Navarretia capillaris, but I’m reluctant to follow yet another name change in this mixed-up family) popped into my mind. With a little more searching, I discovered several dozen individual flowers still hanging on. Sure enough, they were the little gilia. This delicate annual grows commonly in this type of habitat in the Rogue-Umpqua Divide, but Lowder Mountain (see New Plant for Lowder Mountain) is the only place I’d seen it so far in Lane County, so this was a welcome find. I’m not sure how I’ve missed this before, but I do remember finding some unusual little knotweeds (Polygonum sp.) in this same area. I’ll have to survey it more carefully earlier in the season next year.

There's a nice view to the north from the wetland on spur road 445.

It had been years since I stopped at the wetland just south of here on side Road 445. The road is getting a little overgrown but was quite passable. Luckily there is a turn around spot right before the wetland, as the road is awfully narrow for turning around and disappears into the alders just past it. The wetland had lots of bog laurel (Kalmia microphylla) in seed and a great many of the big floppy leaves of marsh marigold (Caltha leptosepala). There were even a few flowers left in bloom. There were nice clumps of little Stellaria calycantha on mossy logs next to a small creek and some bistort (Bistorta bistortoides) and lovage (Ligusticum sp.) still in bloom. These lovages are driving me crazy, but I’ll leave that discussion for another day. This wetland was larger than I remembered. I think it is well worth checking out again in the spring.

An Edith's copper nectaring on leafy aster (Symphyotrichum foliaceum) at Waterdog Lake

I had just enough time left to make a quick stop at Waterdog Lake. I quickly wished I hadn’t as some thoughtless hunter had left the sliced off head of his victim—an ill-fated elk—lying right in the area where people park and camp. It was covered with flies. When I returned to the car, I tried very hard not to look at it again. It’s just too upsetting. I checked out the area where the hooded ladies’ tresses (Spiranthes romanzoffiana) grow and only found three, oddly fallen over. Perhaps they were stepped on. By the lake, all the tadpoles were gone, but there were many tiny toads, some with a vestige of a tail, hopping about. They had made a lot of progress since I’d seen them just a week and a half earlier (see Groundhog Mountain Still Blooming Well). The asters were still blooming along with many lovage and the tail end of the Potentilla drummondii. A few butterflies were still flying around as well, but it still had the bittersweet feeling of the changing season. Fall is approaching, and I won’t be back up here until next year.

The devastation left by the Rainbow Creek fire of September, 2009. Black Rock in the distance is right across from the trailhead.

On Tuesday (August 30), I left the Hemlock Lake campground and drove the 18 miles or so east along the ridge to the Whitehorse Meadows trailhead at the northern end of the Rogue-Umpqua Divide. I wondered what might still be in bloom at the relatively high trail at about 5700′. Just a mile or so before the trailhead, I stopped at a favorite spot, a lovely roadside wet slope. It was filled with Parnassia cirrata, Kyhosia bolanderi, Erigeron aliceae, and there were also some lovely leopard lilies (Lilium pardalinum). It looked like things would be great along the trail. Then I noticed some burned trees above the wetland. Hmm. It wasn’t until I came around the corner and saw Black Rock, the prominent feature in this area, completely surrounded by dead trees, that I realized what had happened. What a shock! One of my favorite trails utterly devastated. The trail meanders slowly downhill over 3 miles to the large Whitehorse Meadows. Until just before the Whitehorse Meadows, almost no trees had survived this fire except a few in the many small patches of meadows, outcrops, and wetlands along the way. How did I not know this area had burned? It wasn’t until I got home and called the Diamond Lake Ranger District office of the Umpqua National Forest that I found out it burned in the fall of 2009, just a couple of months after my last visit here. The fire was named after Rainbow Creek, a tributary of Black Creek that starts nearby. It burned over 6,000 acres. It occurred around the same time as the Tumblebug Fire, which was much closer to me and kept me away from southern Oregon entirely. For a dramatic aerial photo of the fires, see Earth Snapshot.

The meadow areas were blooming just fine with perennials like this arrowleaf groundsel (Senecio triangularis).

Whitney’s goldenweed (Hazardia whitneyi var. discoidea) is found only in the Rogue-Umpqua Divide and the Siskiyou mountains of southern Oregon and northern California.

As tough as it was to walk through the charred remains of the forest, the best parts of the trail—the meadows and rocky areas—were carrying on as though nothing had changed around them. Small wet spots were lush and green and filled with the large white flower heads of Boykinia major. The larger damp meadows were filled with Senecio triangularis, Kyhosia bolanderi, Castilleja miniata, and Trifolium howellii. The outcrops that used to be somewhat hidden in the woods were more open. They were blooming with sulphur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum) and had evidently had a great bloom of Phlox diffusa. I was able to collect a good amount of seed, being careful not to prick my fingers on the sharp foliage. Quite a bit of Nothochelone nemorosa was blooming. Usually found in the shade, its stems typically lean over and have all the leaves on the same plane in order to maximum light. When growing out in the sun, they stand straight up with their leaves perpendicular to the stem. Their flowers also seem to be a lighter pink. They look much more like a penstemon and are frequently not recognized by people familiar with their woodland habit. Lots of Eriogonum marifolium was still blooming in the large sloping scree area that looks out upon Whitehorse Meadows. Some of the rare enemic Hazardia whitneyi, a not very showy composite, were also in bloom. On all my previous trips, I’d seen a small patch here of Lotus crassifolius, a large perennial that is usually found along roadsides because of its preference for disturbance. It also likes burned land, so it didn’t surprise me to see many young plants starting near the original ones. The burn was apparently just what the seeds needed.

Someday these 2" seedlings will be handsome tall trees that will once again cast shade on the forest floor.

The woods themselves might look completely dead at first glance. Down here in the Rogue-Umpqua Divide, they are not as lush as farther north anyway. But there was actually quite a bit of life. A closer look at the ground made it clear that the forest was already recovering. Tiny conifer seedlings were everywhere. Both Rhododendron macrophyllum and Vaccinium membranaceum were resprouting well from the base. There were many small plants of the normally large Ribes viscossisimum, also recovering well. I noticed some had been eaten and were covered with frass. I checked several of these and turned up three hoary comma caterpillars, all at different stages from very small to nearly full grown. Later, along the road outside the burned area, I checked a 6-foot-wide shrub and found my very first chrysalis of a hoary comma. There was frass all over this particular plant. Some of the lower growing forest plants seemed to be benefitting from the burn. There was more Arnica latifolia than I remembered, some Arnica that I’d never even seen here, possibly mollis but more attractive than I’ve seen elsewhere, super large patches of Mimulus moschatus, and large areas of a liverwort, a Marchantia I think, covering areas of damp ground.

I was particularly saddened to see that this little contorted lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta), which I had photographed in the large scree area in 2007 (L), was killed in the fire (R)

Whenever I see burned or clearcut forest, I always wonder what it must have been like for tree dwellers like squirrels. Did they make it out alive? If so, where could they go? Do squirrels from intact forest welcome these refugees? I was thinking about this while passing through a particularly hard hit and blackened part of the forest. A glint of blue caught my eye. Then more, flying in the same direction. It turned out there were at least 10 mountain bluebirds making their way through dead trees. It’s always a pleasure seeing these gorgeous birds, but I can’t remember ever seeing them on the west side of the Cascades. Mount Bailey was in sight, only 12 miles due east, so they weren’t that far across the Cascade crest. I heard the tapping of woodpeckers a number of times during the day and watched one downy woodpecker working a dead tree. Red-breasted nuthatches and some flycatchers also roamed the remains of the forest. Clearly there is still value to the trees for these animals.

A real treat—a gorgeous monarch (Danaus plexippus) enjoying a western coneflower (Rudbeckia occidentalis)

I finally reached the large green expanse of Whitehorse Meadows. The far side of the meadow was unaffected by the fire, and even on the trail side there were finally live trees. It was a relief to see the fire did not reach any farther east here. I spent a while poking around the meadow. Some blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium idahoense) and Penstemon rydbergii were still showing some flowers. Goldenrod and yarrow bloomed well. There were a number of butterflies flitting about, but one in particular made me perk up—a monarch! I have only seen monarchs in the Western Cascades a few times. This gorgeous female was nectaring on the seemingly uninteresting dark heads of Rudbeckia occidentalis—actually a bee and butterfly favorite. She flew right in front of me and stayed just long enough for me to get a couple of photographs before she sailed across the meadow. There really is plenty of life after a forest fire. While this area will never look exactly like I remember it in my lifetime, it will be fascinating to return and see how it changes and recovers in the future.

Mist burning off the lake in the early morning. Goldenrod and many other flowers bloom along the west edge of the lake near the campground.

Hydaspe fritillaries have a decided preference for nectaring on horse mint (Agastache urticifolia) in southern part of the Western Cascades where this tall plant grows.

It had been four years since I’d been to Hemlock Lake. With time running out on this summer, especially with colder, longer nights making camping at high elevation less pleasant, I figured I’d better make one last trip down to the North Umpqua area. So on Monday, August 29, I headed to Hemlock Lake and spent the night at the campground there. There was plenty still blooming in the many meadows and wet areas the Yellowjacket trail passes through as it loops around south from the campground. Goldenrod (Solidago sp.) season has begun. New classification has left me bewildered as to what to call these. The bees love their flowers, but I was surprised at how few butterflies I saw. The tall yellow wands of tongue-leaf luina (Rainiera stricta) were also attracting bees and many skippers. Large stretches of horse mint (Agastache urticifolia) and arrowleaf groundsel (Senecio triangularis) were fading but not done. Scarlet paintbrush (Castilleja miniata) added some bright color to the mix. In the wetlands, there were large areas of western oxypolis (Oxypolis occidentalis), a relatively rare member of the carrot family. The tall yellow flowers of Bolander’s tarweed (Kyhosia bolanderi) were also still blooming. In these wet spots were also a few of the gorgeous orangey-red leopard lilies (Lilium pardalinum), always a treat to see on my trips south of Lane County.

Unusual white berries on Hooker's fairy bells (Prosartes hookeri)

Flowering was pretty much done in the woods, but berry season had begun. I’ve been needing to photograph the fruits of Hooker’s fairy bells (Prosartes hookeri), which was unusually abundant here. Flipping over many leaves to look for hanging fruit, I was quite surprised to find none of the red berries I was expecting. Instead, all the flowering branches had either dropped their berries already or had early green fruits or large white ones. I never could find any I was sure were ripe and white, but it seemed obvious that none of them were turning red. Is this another local variation? I also checked the unripe fruits of dwarf bramble (Rubus lasiococcus). As with other locations I’ve checked over the last couple of years, they certainly seemed to be developing into white berries not red as the flora all indicate. Is there something about the Western Cascades, at least the southern end, that makes the plants do odd things? There were lots of both red- and white-berried baneberry (Actaea rubra) here, but that’s a plant that is well known for having two berry colors. I can’t find any references to these other two species having fruit with different color forms. Another mystery to unravel… hopefully.

The broomrape (Orobanche sp.) I saw on this trip was finishing, so I'm "cheating" here and posting this photo from a trip to Hemlock Lake in 2007. If anyone sees this form of Orobanche that parasitizes Oregon bedstraw (Galium oreganum), please let me know!

Another unusual plant I’ve seen in these southern woods is a bright yellow form of a broomrape (Orobanche sp.) that parasitizes Oregon bedstraw (Galium oreganum). I once dug one up and pressed it for the OSU Herbarium just to be sure that was indeed its host. Just because it always grows near a certain plant does not mean that is its host. I hadn’t been at the right place at the right time the last couple of years, so I was really pleased to find it still blooming here in several spots. I’m not yet sure what species it is. It is a much brighter yellow than our O. fasciculata and also has the rounded not pointed lobes of Orobanche uniflora. Perhaps it is a different variety of that species, usually purple or lavender in the Western Cascades. Or maybe it is something new. After all, it has a completely different host and habitat than either of those species. If it has separated itself from its parent species long enough, it will presumably be its own species eventually. I’m really looking forward to the upcoming treatment of Orobanche in Flora of North America. I’ve communicated with one of the authors, Alison Colwell, and she has seen a similar plant down in California growing on a different species of bedstraw. Hopefully she is making progress on giving this pretty thing a name.

This section of Road 452 is a veritable smorgasbord for butterflies, bees, and other pollinators.

With the continued warm weather, I didn’t feel like exerting myself, so on Friday, August 25, I went to Groundhog Mountain, accompanied by Sabine Dutoit and Nancy Bray, to do some relaxing roadside botanizing and butterfly watching. There’s too much to see to do everything in one trip, so we started by heading up Road 452, which goes around the east and north sides of the mountain. The best butterfly area, a little less than a mile up the road, was really superb. The coyote mint (Monardella odoratissima) and Oregon sunshine (Eriophyllum lanatum) were at peak, along with lots sulphur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum), leafy fleabane (Erigeron foliosus), fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium), and skyrocket (Ipomopsis aggregata). What a sight. There were oodles of butterflies including pale swallowtails, hydaspe fritillaries, variable checkerspots, Anna’s blues, pine whites, parnassians, a tiger swallowtail, one painted lady—possibly my first of the season, a woodland skipper, a mylitta crescent, a Lorquin’s admiral, and several coppers, including a purplish.

A pine white (Neophasia menapia) nectaring on Oregon sunshine (Eriophyllum lanatum).

Next we parked at the beginning of Road 454, now unmarked and quite overgrown for a little ways. After plowing through some alders and willows, we reached the open part of the road. This is such a special place. The water is flowing quite well across the road, which has now become quite mossy and covered with flowers. White bog orchids (Platanthera dilatata), Senecio triangularis, Mimulus guttatus, and Micranthes [Saxifraga] oregana were going strong. Lovely Epilobium luteum and Parnassia cirrata were just getting started. We also found some bronze bells (now Anticlea occidentalis) in good bloom. The sundews didn’t appear until lower down the road, but they grow all the way up the seepy slope—just amazing. Sabine spotted a caterpillar eating some Sitka alder (Alnus viridis) leaves. It looks like the ones I’ve seen before on currants (Ribes spp.) and thought they were hoary commas. It turns out that although oreas and hoary commas eat currants, the caterpillars of green commas are found on willows and alders, so perhaps this is a green comma. Learning the host food plants is really important to butterfly identification. Just a few minutes after that, we saw an adult hoary comma flying around nearby. He finally landed on some scat and remained there happily for quite some time. Green commas have a similar underside but with greenish patches that are a dead ringer for lichen on tree bark.

The caterpillar might be a green comma (Polygonia faunus), but the adult is definitely a hoary comma (P. gracilis)

Our next stop was farther up the road at the twin ponds, one of which is almost always dry when I get there. This year was no different, but for the end of August, things were amazingly fresh, with some blooming Dodecatheon jeffreyi at one edge. The shallow lake in the back was even better. The south end, partly shaded by the forest still had a small patch of snow and lots of marsh marigold (Caltha leptosepala) just coming out. At last year’s field trip (see Group Trip to Groundhog), we saw Cascade frogs as well as boreal toads. Thankfully both were evident once again with adult frogs and both small dark tadpoles and large brown ones. Presumably the little ones were toads. They seem to prefer swarming together in dark masses. The much larger tadpoles kept a little distance from each other. The shallow water in this small lake makes it really easy to view them all. Unfortunately, the mosquitoes were much worse here than elsewhere nearby. While trying unsuccessfully to relocate some Lycopodium sitchense I’d seen here a few years back, I discovered some very tiny lewisias that looked to me more like Lewisia nevadensis than L. triphylla except for the size. I stopped to photograph them, and a swarm of mosquitoes attacked me. That really takes the fun out of exploring places like this. But out of the hundreds of times I’ve been out in the Western Cascades, and two dozens trips to Groundhog, mosquitoes have rarely been a problem. The snowy winter has really changed the conditions this year. Hopefully all the bugs will give the frogs and toads plenty to eat. Of the far more welcome insects, we saw a great arctic and a mariposa copper to add to our day’s butterfly list.

Tadpoles of boreal toads (Anaxyrus boreas—formerly Bufo boreas) and Cascade frogs (Rana cascadae). While these photos are not to scale, the toads were much smaller. Apparently they do a lot of their growing in their adult stage.

Our last stop was at Waterdog Lake, to check on the toads there, among other things. There were thousands of them last year in varying stages of development (see Awesome Day at Groundhog). This was good news since boreal toads are declining in much of their range. I hoped that they would be doing as well this year, but it took a while to even find any here. Eventually we found some black masses similar to those at the upper pond. None were developing legs yet or emerging from the water as they had been on August 10 of last year. With September right around the corner, I hope they have enough time to finish developing before the cold sets in. I also spent some time relocating the small population of tiny Botrychium simplex: 27 plants, some no taller than an inch and sporing well. We also saw large gatherings of puddling Anna’s blues at the edges of the lake. What a great day for butterflies and amphibians!