Yellow is the Color of Spring at Patterson Mountain
Mountain buttercups (Ranunculus populago) spread across many parts of the wet meadow.
Mountain buttercup has shiny, unlobed leaves that are oar-shaped to somewhat heart-shaped at the base.
On Tuesday, May 14, I spent a lovely afternoon enjoying the fresh flowers of spring in the newly melted out wet meadows of Patterson Mountain. The long drought was making the rock outcrops too depressing, so after a late start due to the morning fog, I thought Patterson Mountain would be a perfect place to forget about how dry everything had become (hopefully the last couple of days of showers has moistened things up at least a little bit). Some nice people had cleared out both the road and the trail already (thank you!), even though there were still patches of snow in several places. I was pleased to see there was still a little snow because I was really looking forward to seeing the early blooming buttercups. I was not disappointed. The mountain buttercup (Ranunculus populago) was in its prime and putting on a great show. This beautiful flower is usually seen to the north, with the smaller Gorman’s buttercup (R. gormanii) filling the buttercup niche in most wetlands in Lane and Douglas counties. I spent quite a while taking photographs and looking the perfect plant where the leaf shapes were not hidden by surrounding plants. I did at last find what I was looking for. The only thing that would have made it better was a frog in the photo. I’ve taken photos of frogs among the buttercups before, and I did see a few on this trip but not next to the buttercups. The name Ranunculus is derived from Rana, the latin name from frog, so it just seems appropriate to sneak one into the photo.
With the light coming through them, skunk cabbage flowers look like they are lit from within.
The other big show of bright yellow came from the abundant skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus). I’d seen good stands hidden among some of the side thickets of alders, but I didn’t remember there being so many out in the open meadow. I’ve heard them called swamp lanterns, and the way their translucent spathes glow when back lit really does look like a lantern. Yellow stream violets (Viola glabella) and some fresh glacier lilies (Erythronium grandiflorum) near the last patch of melting snow added a bit more yellow to the scene. The next show of color coming on was the pink of masses of alpine laurel (Kalmia microphylla) just beginning to bloom along one side of the wetland. Depending on the weather, they will probably peak in a week or two.
Alpine laurel (Kalmia microphylla) blooming in the Lone Wolf Meadow
The fresh anthers of alpine laurel are tucked into little depression in the corolla until an insect comes along to spring them, propelling the pollen onto the insect.
After spending most of the day relaxingly photographing in the wet meadow, I headed back toward the trailhead. There really wasn’t time to go to the top, and I didn’t have the heart to see how dry the rocky area was, in any case. But when I got back uphill to where the trail is at its highest, I just couldn’t resist cutting through to check on the southside wet meadows. I’d never gone this way before, but I’ve wandered around on this mountain enough times to know my way around, and I was pretty sure I’d get there fairly quickly. And indeed, it only took me a few minutes of easy walking through the open old growth forest to pop out just where I hoped to, right near a pool of water I think of as the bears’ tub because I’d once seen their trail going in one way and out the other and had seen bears in the area several times before. As if thinking about bears could conjure them up, as I had almost reached the edge of the woods and could finally see through to the upper meadow, I spotted a bear! He/she was a hundred yards away on the far side but had also spotted me or at least heard me clumsily negotiating the vine maples at the edge of the forest. I got off a couple of photos, but unfortunately I didn’t have the presence of mind to check them first—they were out of focus— before I called out in my sweetest, gentlest voice “Hello, sorry to disturb you!”, at which point the bear slowly headed off under the vine maples onto a trail I’ve used many times to reach the seepy meadow beyond.
The lowest meadow on the south side of Patterson is green and lush in spring.
That made my day but also made me feel a little guilty for trespassing on their lovely estate. It really does look like a park on that side of the mountain. There are several areas of sloping meadow, patches of alders, pools of water and small creeks, and lots of pretty flowers. On my way down, I passed lots of bear scat. No doubt they were eating heartily after a long winter’s nap. The skunk cabbages were gorgeous in the lower meadow, and some little white Brewer’s bittercress (Cardamine breweri) dotted the spots with standing water, but other than those and the alders and maples, little else had started to bloom, so after a few more photos, I said goodbye and left the lovely meadows to the bears.