Spring Ephemeral Flowers
“Trout lilies!” Ashley stops midstride. She tosses her spade to the side—we trudged out here to this plot of woodland just south of Manistique to plant trees for our deer habitat grant—and crouches close to the greenery-clad ground. Her hand is gentle as she skims it over what look to me to be perfectly unextraordinary brown-mottled leaves.
It’s May of 2023. I’ve been working at the Schoolcraft Conservation District little more than a month. I have a lot to learn.
“Look how pretty they are.” Ashley Reitter, SCD’s District Manager and expert in all things native plants, fishes her cellphone from a back pocket and snaps a few pictures of what are, apparently, trout lilies.
While my new boss Ansel Adamses over the lily leaves, I panic. I was an English major, I think. I’m vastly underqualified for this job.
Spring ephemerals, a unique group of deciduous woodland wildflowers that have evolved to bloom for a fleeting few months in early spring before the sunlight that filters down to the forest floor is greedily swallowed by the tree canopy above, are easy to overlook for those, like me, with untrained eyes. For foresters like Ashley whose love of nature is constant and core as a heartbeat, these flowers—trout lilies among them—are defining spectacles of the spring season.
I use the word ‘spectacle’ deliberately. Though short, their bloom time is something reminiscent of a pageant with its kaleidoscope of colorful personalities. Trout lilies, from whose splotched leaves shoots up a delicate yellow flower. Squirrel corn and Dutchman’s breeches, their drooping pink and antiqued white heads nodding to passersby. Spiderwort boasts a regal blue. White toothwort dances on its slender stalks like a wind-blown peace flag. Trillium is a robe-donned children’s choir, tiny and pure as it sings a silent symphony. Each species contributes to the tapestry.
Perhaps it’s unfair to put so much emphasis on the flowers themselves when their plants live much more chasmic lives. While only obvious for a handful of weeks annually, spring ephemerals have a rich underground life year-round, dormant but thriving beneath the soil surface in the form of bulbs, corms, rhizomes, or tubers for most months of the year. As the post-winter months kindle warmer temperatures, these plant parts rouse from their slumber to send up new shoots, taking advantage of their brief window of sunlight before the tree shade lulls them back to sleep.
So yes, perhaps it is unfair that the only press ephemerals seem to get captures only a brief portion of their lives. But their fleeting, flowery bursts come with one big plus: it makes for easy identification.
“That’s bloodroot,” I tell my dog Autumn, who’s paused on our hike to sniff at the petite white flowers carpeting a section of ground just off the trail. I’m proud of my newfound knowledge. Autumn is not impressed.
It’s May of 2024. I still have a lot to learn, but I’ve gotten better at species ID—at taking the time when out in nature to pause and pay attention to the goings on around me—and spring ephemerals are easy. When there’s no other flowers in sight, even a novice like myself can hazard a decent guess.
Like these bloodroots, I’ve grown in other ways too: this job doesn’t feel quite as intimidating as it once did. Maybe my background isn’t anywhere close to Ashley’s, but I’ve learned I can bring my own strengths to the District. We all have our niches.
They are pretty to look at and fascinating for their strategy of brief blooms, but what makes spring ephemerals truly special is the unique role they play in their ecosystems. In addition to fertilizing forest soil and suppressing invasive vegetation, they’re a crucial food source for pollinators (who are in turn crucial themselves) during a time when other food sources are either limited or nonexistent. Their loss would have catastrophic effects, and conservation efforts aimed at protecting ephemerals are becoming more important than ever as habitat loss and fragmentation continues.
With their distinctive personalities and unique nature, spring ephemerals are not only a joy to see, but also an accessible group of plants for those wanting to learn more about our native flowers. The next time you’re out in the woods, take some time to look around. Find some blooms. Snap some pictures. It will enrich your life; it’s certainly enriched mine.
It’s May of 2023. I’ve been working at the Schoolcraft Conservation District little more than a month. I have a lot to learn.
“Look how pretty they are.” Ashley Reitter, SCD’s District Manager and expert in all things native plants, fishes her cellphone from a back pocket and snaps a few pictures of what are, apparently, trout lilies.
While my new boss Ansel Adamses over the lily leaves, I panic. I was an English major, I think. I’m vastly underqualified for this job.
Spring ephemerals, a unique group of deciduous woodland wildflowers that have evolved to bloom for a fleeting few months in early spring before the sunlight that filters down to the forest floor is greedily swallowed by the tree canopy above, are easy to overlook for those, like me, with untrained eyes. For foresters like Ashley whose love of nature is constant and core as a heartbeat, these flowers—trout lilies among them—are defining spectacles of the spring season.
I use the word ‘spectacle’ deliberately. Though short, their bloom time is something reminiscent of a pageant with its kaleidoscope of colorful personalities. Trout lilies, from whose splotched leaves shoots up a delicate yellow flower. Squirrel corn and Dutchman’s breeches, their drooping pink and antiqued white heads nodding to passersby. Spiderwort boasts a regal blue. White toothwort dances on its slender stalks like a wind-blown peace flag. Trillium is a robe-donned children’s choir, tiny and pure as it sings a silent symphony. Each species contributes to the tapestry.
Perhaps it’s unfair to put so much emphasis on the flowers themselves when their plants live much more chasmic lives. While only obvious for a handful of weeks annually, spring ephemerals have a rich underground life year-round, dormant but thriving beneath the soil surface in the form of bulbs, corms, rhizomes, or tubers for most months of the year. As the post-winter months kindle warmer temperatures, these plant parts rouse from their slumber to send up new shoots, taking advantage of their brief window of sunlight before the tree shade lulls them back to sleep.
So yes, perhaps it is unfair that the only press ephemerals seem to get captures only a brief portion of their lives. But their fleeting, flowery bursts come with one big plus: it makes for easy identification.
“That’s bloodroot,” I tell my dog Autumn, who’s paused on our hike to sniff at the petite white flowers carpeting a section of ground just off the trail. I’m proud of my newfound knowledge. Autumn is not impressed.
It’s May of 2024. I still have a lot to learn, but I’ve gotten better at species ID—at taking the time when out in nature to pause and pay attention to the goings on around me—and spring ephemerals are easy. When there’s no other flowers in sight, even a novice like myself can hazard a decent guess.
Like these bloodroots, I’ve grown in other ways too: this job doesn’t feel quite as intimidating as it once did. Maybe my background isn’t anywhere close to Ashley’s, but I’ve learned I can bring my own strengths to the District. We all have our niches.
They are pretty to look at and fascinating for their strategy of brief blooms, but what makes spring ephemerals truly special is the unique role they play in their ecosystems. In addition to fertilizing forest soil and suppressing invasive vegetation, they’re a crucial food source for pollinators (who are in turn crucial themselves) during a time when other food sources are either limited or nonexistent. Their loss would have catastrophic effects, and conservation efforts aimed at protecting ephemerals are becoming more important than ever as habitat loss and fragmentation continues.
With their distinctive personalities and unique nature, spring ephemerals are not only a joy to see, but also an accessible group of plants for those wanting to learn more about our native flowers. The next time you’re out in the woods, take some time to look around. Find some blooms. Snap some pictures. It will enrich your life; it’s certainly enriched mine.