In Search Of The Folklore Of St. Johnswort

St. Johnswort of course is known as an antidepressant and has many other medicinal uses. It has also been believed to hold magical powers through the centuries such as foretelling one's longevity, conjuring up evil spirits or protecting one from evil spirits.

But the legend I wanted to pursue was that of the plant's sap on the day of St. John's beheading. The way I originally heard it, the sap of St. Johnswort would turn red on that day, which is usually observed on August 29. Many years ago I checked and found that the sap was actually sort of red, which fueled my curiosity. This year I promised myself I'd try again as we got close to August 29.

I went out to the ditch along the county road to check for myself and was amazed at the abundance of colorful wildflowers. In this photo alone, I see Goldenrod, Butter-and-Eggs, Orpine (our wild Sedum) and Deptford Pinks. Of course there are many other plants without flowers too:

 Another angle, showing Queen Anne's Lace, Opine, Goldenrod, Deptford Pink and Butter-and-Eggs:

 It was all fascinating and photogenic, but I was after St. Johnswort, and I knew there was some nearby:

 I found a plant and broke off a stem. Alas, I couldn't find any sap at all. Perhaps our drought had left the interior of the plants low on sap this summer. I read one account saying that St. Johnswort sap turns red when it contacts air, which would explain my earlier experience, but of course that would only work when the plant has enough sap to ooze out:

 I went out again later, this time to the far south field fence line. It was filled with Joe-Pye-Weed and Jewelweed, another wildflower rich in folklore:

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 There is an orange flowered species and a yellow flowered species. Mine appeared to be a hybrid. I know that's possible, but I wonder if it's likely:

 The fence line was also abloom with Blue Vervain;

 But again, I was there to check the sap of St. Johnswort. I found another plant and broke the stem in search of sap. Again I couldn't find any, not even a micro-drop. Perhaps the next time I check, it will have to be in June, when St. John's birth is celebrated. Maybe they'll have more sap then. So I never got proof or disproof of the legend, but I did enjoy being outdoors on a beautiful August afternoon:

Around The Farm

Along a country road I observed this tableau: Jewelweed, Purple Loosestrife, Queen Anne's Lace and Sundrops, the day blooming version of Evening Primrose. Behind them is a corn field:

Although the dawns are getting later each day, I still often get to see these glorious skies:

I was surprised to find these calyx (sepals) reminders of June's flowering bonanza on the Mock Orange bush. I had not noticed them before. They are not as showy as the actual flowers, but lovely nonetheless:

The aptly named Butter-And-Eggs:

And my own little patch of Orpine, a wild Sedum. Those are windfall apples in the grass at their feet:

The baby fantail pigeon who had been so badly picked on is almost an adult now, and her injured head is nearly healed. I sometimes find it difficult to pick her out when I enter their room now:

The pear tree has resisted whatever disease struck the apple trees, and the fruit is getting bigger each day:

The only two trees which produced apples are the two alongside the road, away from all the others:

And though their fruit is smaller than usual and falling earlier, they certainly produced a lot of them. I fed them to the cattle a few times but then stopped because I want my cows (and horses) to lose weight:

The little bantam hens are down to only 3 or 4 eggs per day, but they are still pretty to look at and tasty to eat:

I discovered another baby fantail pigeon, this one strong and healthy (and not being picked on). I'm guessing it was ten days old when I discovered it and snapped this photo. They do look like they are related to dinosaurs:

The adult birds mob the water fountain every time I refresh it. I don't know if they are just curious or looking for fresher water (they rake shavings and dried poop into it during the day). They also probably would love a bath and I haven't provided one lately. It's time I did so:

Roadside Wildflowers

I've had enough free time this summer to get to know more of the wild plants with which I share this part of the planet. Here's some of my more recent photos and what I learned about them. This plant, obviously in the mint family (square stems, opposite leaves, tube shaped flowers with upper and lower lips), but I've never found it in my field manual or online. This year, however, I really, really searched and finally found it in the "Pink or Red Flowers" section. I'd previously only looked in the "Blue and Purple Flowers" section because that's what they look like to me. It is called Motherwort and probably originated in Europe and southern Asia. Now, however, it is considered invasive, though the bees sure like it.

I've previously photographed the minuscule Least Hop Clover, but this one, growing by my barn door, was bigger and I assumed it was (regular) Hop Clover. When I looked it up, though, I learned that it wasn't big enough and was therefore Smaller Hop Clover. It's nice to know there are bright yellow clovers:

A favorite of mine, Ladys-Thumb Smartweed:

Another common mint which I've never been able to identify before. This time, however, I tracked it down and decided it was Hemp-Nettle":

Springing up all around my house and barn are these Smooth Hawksbeard flowers. These only get to about 12" although taller, related species along many roadsides grow to over three feet tall:

Another of my favorites, Jewelweed, has begun blooming in wet places. The sap of Jewelweed plants is soothing for Poison Ivy, Nettles and bee sting irritations. I'm sensitive to Stinging Nettles and luckily, they tend to grow together in wet soil. Jewelweed's leaves shine like silver foil when submerged in water. If you scratch off the seed coat, Jewelweed's seeds are a bright blue color and, I've read, White-Footed Mice feeding on them develop blue bellies. Also called Touch-Me-Not, their ripe seed pods explode when touched, scattering their seeds up to six feet away and leaving tightly curled shreds of pod:

You've no doubt seen this plant all over waste areas where not much else will grow. Its seed pods turn dark brown when ripe and cling to the stalk. We used to think they looked like coffee grounds when we were kids and would strip them off the stalk and pretend we were going to make coffee. Apparently the tender young leaves are edible for humans, but cattle, sheep and chickens find the leaves and seeds toxic:

Queen Anne's Lace, of course, but surrounded by a Wild Cucumber Vine in full bloom:

A wildflower tableau: Northern Bedstraw, Butter-And-Eggs and Orpine:

I've seen Sedum plants growing along a drainage ditch in front of my house for years and assumed they had been planted by someone. This year I looked them up and discovered, to my surprise, that they are an alien wildflower which grows in some rather cold, northern locations:

Orpine looks for all the world like someone planted it here, and it looks even better with a bumblebee atop its bright pink flower head:

Goldenrod began blooming early in August and will continue right through autumn. There are over 60 species and I haven't even tried to learn them. I just enjoy their beauty, at least when they are not in my pastures:

One of the first flowers our mother taught us was Nightshade, a relative of potatoes, peppers and tomatoes. Our mother allowed a wild plant to grow in her flower garden just because we kids liked it so much:

The Last Leg Of The Windham Mountain Hike

The dogs and I had made to the summit of Windham Mountain in the Catskills and were on our way back to the trail head. I noticed that yellow Jewelweed grew along the trail at the higher elevations and orange Jewelweed at the lower elevations:

Jewelweed is an amazing plant. Besides its beautiful flowers and attractive foliage, its sap wondrously eases bee and nettle stings. The leaves, when held under water, look like shiny tinfoil. The ripe seeds, beneath their green skin, are bright robin's egg blue. And the ripe seed pods give the plant its other nickname, Touch-Me-Not. When touched, they explode and send the seeds flying in all directions. I wanted to take a video of this phenomenon but didn't have enough charge left in my camera's battery. So I decided to take a couple of stills. Here's a seed pod:

I touched it and it exploded, its walls splitting and curling back while the seeds were sent flying great distances in all directions. What a great way to spread seed and continue the species:

Well, that was fun but we had a long way yet to hike and I was sore and tired. Seamus too was weary. His legs were wobbly as he tried to cool off in this mountain stream.

Fergus and Papillons were less fatigued yet considerably slowed down from their great energy levels at the beginning of the hike:

The sun was beginning to set and I was beginning to have difficulty seeing those blue trail markers as it became darker. The night insects and frogs began their songs just off in the forest and a Barred Owl began hooting not far away:

This hike was only 6.6 miles but seemed more difficult than the 12 mile Jug End Ridge hike we'd taken just two weeks previously. Well, there was nothing for it but to keep on putting one foot in front of the other. We had to make it back to the trail head before dark:

We traveled back through the spruce forest. It doesn't show here because my automatic camera adjusts itself to the available light, but it was growing quite dark. :

And across those exposed roots which bruised the soles of my feet and caused me to feel foolish for wearing sneakers. The Barred Owl continued to hoot every now and then interrupted, I guessed, by short, silent hunting flights. I began to worry about tiny Clover running ahead of me with her bright white flag of a tail displaying over her back. One of the things I read about Papillons is that they often activate the predator instinct in bigger dogs. Would an owl be tempted? I didn't know, but it was growing darker so I put Clover and Daphne on leashes and told Seamus and Fergus to heel:

And we did eventually make it to the trail head. I let the dogs loose briefly and signed out:

But we weren't back to the car yet. We crossed the boardwalk and bridges built since Tropical Storm Irene:

And finally I could see the highway. I put the dogs back on leashes and hobbled and wobbled my way across the highway to my car. The pooches were also happy to lie down in the back of the car. They scarcely moved all the way home:

A Wildflower Afternoon At Beebe Hill

I had a day off in the middle of the week and it was very hot. I decided that I really needed to get out somewhere into the woods and take a hike - as long as it was a short hike. I chose my old favorite, Beebe Hill, just south of Albany in Columbia County. The dogs and I began hiking up an old service road with deep forests on each side but lots of sun and wildflowers along the road. I first stopped to photograph the abundant Butter-And-Eggs, Linaria vulgaris. It's an alien wildflower, but a common and lovely one:

We passed by Bartlett Pond and began ascending the hill:

The dogs were, of course, happy and excited. They ran and played and sniffed and had a grand time:

And then I encountered a patch of creamy pink trumpet flowers, a new species for me. I took several photos so that I could identify it when I got home:

I checked my Peterson's Field Guide, turning the pages slowly until I arrived at a picture of Spreading Dogbane, Apocynum androsaemifolium. It was a beautiful flower, striped on its interior with a deep rose color:

And there were, of course, lots of more common wildflowers such as this Daisy Fleabane, Erigeron annuus:

Another common and abundant wildflower was Common St. Johnswort, Hypericum perforatum:

And what hike would be complete without the beautiful and useful Jewelweed, also known as Spotted Touch-Me-Not, Impatiens capensis. There is plenty of interesting lore about this wondrous plant. Maybe I'll do a whole post on the subject some day:

And then I encountered another wildflower new to me. It looked much like the Whorled Loosestrife which I'd only discovered this year, but not quite. I figured it must be related and have since concluded that it must have been Fringed Loosestrife, Lysimachia ciliata:

And another old friend, Sundrops, Onagraceae fruticosa. This plant is pretty much like Common Evening Primrose except that it blooms by day instead of by night. Well, I hadn't planned for this to be a wildflower hike, but it sure was turning out that way:

And another old friend, Bladder Campion, Silene cucubalus. I'll post more tomorrow: