Arthur’s Seat, the royal backdrop of Holyrood Park

One of the remedies for homesickness is hiking and Arthur’s Seat was calling. Holyrood Park is visible from most places in the city, even from the coast of Granton. I’d already resolved to hike it more than ten years ago when I first saw it. Finally, I had a chance to!

After running errands though the bustling streets of the Edinburgh Sunday, I was released to the base of the ancient volcanic hills. Some of them look like old slices of earth that were pushed up millions of years ago. They don’t seem that high, until you see the tiny people climbing all over them.

I assessed how and where I wanted to explore. People had made paths all up the sides of the hills, for better or for worse, besides the main path that lead around the sides of the hills. There was a steep path that quickly ascended the top that was perfect to get to walk along the rim of the rocks and see the city sooner.

It was rigorous, but every brief break was full of breathtaking views of the city. The higher I went the more I could see in the horizon. When I reached the top, I realized I hadn’t reached the top I thought I had. There was a larger mountain, the actual Arthur’s Seat, beyond. A golden valley stretched down below me, so vast the people were even smaller. I saw more hills beyond and more to explore. Yes!

The plants were mostly grasses and flowering herbs on the first hill. Only when I got to the base of Arthur’s Seat did I see trees, and even then they weren’t very tall. Gorse and other shrubs dominated, really. When I rounded the northeastern side of the Seat there were patches of heather all over. Ahh!

I chose another steep path to the top of Arthur’s Sear through a patch of heather. The air smelled like honey and the fuzzy white-bottomed bumblebees were hard at work. Both the climb and the views were dramatic and a couple times I had to remind myself to stop to look at the plants because the way down was straight to the bottom. I took a few breaks to take in the views of the valley below and the land beyond. I was taken aback each time I tried to understand how wide the valley was below. It was like nothing I’d ever seen; so beautiful.

I clambered over the last few rocks and found a path to the top of the mount. The rocks were smooth and slippery from the thousands of people who’d walked over them. I found a seat on the edge looking to the north so I could see over the city to the Highlands. The cold wind ripped over the top, but I was still happy to be on top of the world. I was really here.

I am really here.

Left, left, left….but look right: settling into Edinburgh

“Left, left, left….” My cousin and I chanted, as my grandfather pulled out of the rental car place in Glasgow in 2003. That was my first time in Scotland and it was an unforgettable trip.

As I rode the bus from Granton, my nerves were on end as the double decker drove through the narrow streets. On the wrong side of the road. Of which I was reminded of after getting on the bus going the wrong way because I was standing on the wrong side of the road. Again.

And then there was crossing the street. We’ve been told since we were little to look both ways to cross the street. Okay, I’ve got that. But, what I didn’t realize is that in the United States we look left then right, because the traffic is coming from the left. Well, here it isn’t.

There are thousands of people from all over Europe and Asia here for the festivals, so it’s been hard to gauge the normal Edinburgh society. Throngs of tourists have flooded the streets and tourist shops are everywhere in the Old and New Towns. I’m not a native, but even I am tired after a few days. And these poor folks have had to deal with the festivals for the past month. Yuck.

There is a lot of Mediterranean, Turkish and American food and the traditional Scottish food is faded in the background (although there is plenty of fish and chips to be had). And then there’s plenty of whisky to be had too. It’s its own food group anyway. Thinking now though, this is a major metropolitan area, and just like in the U.S., the “traditional” foods of the region aren’t really front and center and readily available to visitors (or are only known by the locals, of which I’m working on). The backbone of the society is dictated by “The Council” and social programs are pretty well-organized, you just have to figure them out! Things are certainly more expensive here and it will be nice to be able to cook for myself.

So, in a way, it’s very much like being in Charlotte: the weather’s similar, the people look similar, there’s a smattering of immigrants, and there is are a lot of options shopping/food-wise; except…..the accents are definitely not the same and it’s in Scotland.

But, traffic and people aside, Edinburgh has been amazing. It is set in a beautiful place, full of beautiful, ancient buildings. Thankfully they thought to save many of them in the 60s and 70s. The view from Holyrood Park is incredible and you can see north to the Highlands and far into the Firth of Forth. I’ve been able to learn the city by walking around and looking around from the tops of the buses.

As an American, I think I can appreciate the architecture more than most of the native folks. Just the other day I went to an art show that was part of the Fringe Festival and it was held in the courtyard of an old, stone abbey and Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline behind it. The Londoner, Irishman and lady from Spain couldn’t understand why I was so excited. Everywhere you look there is history. Even as the bustle of modern society fills in most of the available space around me, and the skillfully crammed buildings of the streets of Edinburgh, I can still appreciate that I am in one of the most beautiful places in the Western world.

The Night No American Could Make Up

So, Saturday night an American, a Londoner, an Irishman and a lady from Spain walk into a bar…

Sounds like the lead up to a bad bar joke. But it was essentially my night.

The Fringe Festival has been the dominant festival for the time I’ve been in Edinburgh. Performers and artists are everywhere, and where they aren’t there are folks handing out bills for shows elsewhere. Most of the Royal Mile has been closed, if not for the Fringe, then for the Military Tattoo at Edinburgh Castle. What a time.

The “best mate” of the gentleman I am renting my room roped me and John into going to Animotion. I had no idea what it was about, but it was supposed to be so good the guy was going to see it again. Heck, why not experience part of the Fringe on my meager student budget? I was in.

John and I met his friends, an Irishman and his girlfriend, who was a lady from the north of Spain, at Sandy Bells, one of the finest folk bars in Edinburgh for pre-show Guinness. I couldn’t believe my ears as we all conversed, holding Guinnesses on the street corner in the center of Old Town Edinburgh. Amazing.

We made our way around the corner to the show after we finished our beers. The wrought iron gates stopped at a large, ancient stone portico where they were taking tickets. As my American eyes took in the gate, the old stone abbey beyond took the cake. The lights suddenly went off and the super moon’s bright light lit the front. Crazy. Until we came around the side of the old church and the Edinburgh Castle filled the skyline. I couldn’t make this up if I’d tried.

After the show, we made it back to Sandy Bell’s and after getting another round of drinks, I pushed our way back to small group of tables closest to the motley crew of musicians having a jam session. Folks from all over Edinburgh and the world played fiddles, there was a handful of fifes, a traditional drum, a standing base, a banjo and guitar. A gentleman from the U.S. had brought a cello-like instrument to play. A small Scottish man had brought a mandolin. By 1 a.m., after much convincing by me for the Scotsman to play the mandolin, there was a homely set of traditional songs being played. If it weren’t for the accents I’d’ve sworn I was in North Carolina.

All was suddenly well.

Animotion, a snapshot of the Fringe of Edinburgh

What I learned as I watched the light of a painter smear oil paints masterfully over the façade of the courtyard of an old stone abbey:

“Art is something that was that will never be again. But then becomes the journey to find it again.”

She brought her paintings to life in vibrant colors and great strokes but then could quickly wipe them away, change them as the musicians created music that was and never would be again. I was able to understand art for the first time in my life.

Fire on the Hill: Burning the Longleaf Pine Forest at the Mobile Botanical Garden

It was an early morning on Tuesday, but well worth it for the electric anticipation of what was going to happen: eight acres of the forest was going up in flames this day. The sun rose over the 35 acres of the treasure forest. The way it lit up the trunks and made the needle glow seemed to foretell what was coming.

Burning the longleaf forest, June 16, 2015

 (Click for more photos of the burn and other scenes of the Longleaf Pine Forest through the spring)

A crowd gathered as time got closer to when the fire crew would light the first part of the fire. Volunteers had their tasks and news crews stood ready with cameras as the fire crew came riding down Pat Ryan Drive. After Andrew said a few words, the first stream of flames were released and a defining line of fire licked away at the duff. The tell-tale smell of a campfire filled the air and smoke billowed into the morning.

Part of the fire crew watched as the fire line moved down the main drive and south through the forest. Other members of the crew went to other parts of the perimeter to set more fires. Volunteers and bystanders moved to get a better view of the expanding fire. People driving down the street slowed down to look at the flames eating away at the brush in the forest. The wind played with the smoke, blowing it this way and that; giving the scene an otherworldly appearance.

As the morning moved on, I took a moment to go closer to the smoking line to see how the Sabal palms bent beneath the touch of the fire. I then spotted a couple of ground bees flying lazily around a small opening in the fire break. Lucky, the brush had been raked away and their home wasn’t in the line of fire. The bees themselves seemed pretty confused as to what was going on as they flew in circles around the opening. Amazing luck.

I was taking a photo of them when the burn master came down from the hill and asked if I’d been to the top of the hill yet. I hadn’t because of my knee, but the tempting view helped me overcome that. 

My slow footsteps were warmed by the smoldering brush as I passed over the fire line and into the center of the burn. Spot fires were growing in front of me and the comforting crackle of fire sage and other brush catching called out from them. A large fire rose higher into the canopy as the flames reached a particularly willing patch of brush. It was a large tongue, licking the lower branches of the longleaf pine full of glistening needles. It soon calmed down and coalesced with the rest of the fire. 

A stand of longleaf pines as old as me stood in a cluster along the road, living remnants of a good seed year, much like the one we’d had this past year. I made my way through the brush towards the trail to join up with the rest of the burn crew and to see my tree cohorts wrapped in the fire. They looked good in their state of transformation, through the smoke and flashes of orange and red. 

"A Pine that Fire Built", the title of a pamphlet  in the office rang true. As I stood there watching, fire creeping along the ground and smoke filling the air, I knew the next year was going to bring new life to the forest. Fire, although seemingly impatient and all-consuming, can teach us a lesson about time and temperance. Change seems to happen in almost an instant, but real change is slow, patient and accumulates over time. This fire is just one of many that will happen, and without this one the next would not be as effective. Time is a continuum and fire is just a part of it.

Mobile Botanical Gardens: Week of April 13

Lots going on at the garden, despite the astronomical amount of rain and thunderstorms we got this week. The Rhododendron Garden is full of azaleas in various stages of flowering in all different different colors of whites, pinks, purples and reds. It really is quite amazing to walk through and observe.

Here's a photographic snippet of how things are going in the garden:

Trillium Expedition to Northern Alabama with Christopher

So...remember last year I went to Washington, D.C. for the APGA Plant Collections Symposium. Well, that trip made this trip possible. I met both Christopher Elenstar, a horticulturist at Brookside Gardens in Maryland, and Carol Lambden, the special projects manager at Huntsville Botanical Garden, during the symposium and it was then these plans were hatched. Serendipity at its finest.

This is probably one of my favorite vignettes at the Birmingham Botanical Gardens: Sanguinaria canadensis, bloodroot; Trillium cuneatum, sweet betsy; Thalictrum thalictroides; and Xanthorhiza simplicissima, yellowroot.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, and we were still getting the logistics ironed out, but the trip was still on! Whew.
I started the long drive up Interstate 65 the overcast morning of April 2, IDing plants as I drove (and man, there were some impressive Cornus florida and a handful of Chionanthus virginicus). The weather held off for me until I got to Birmingham, when a thunderstorm of epic proportions chased me to the airport where Christopher was just about to land....(and yes, his pilot landed in the middle of the thunderstorm).

We started our epic journey with pizza. No! Who has time for food when there are awesome plants waiting to be found?!

Dodecatheon meadia, shooting-star, Primulaceae. Click for more photos.

Nope, food first. But afterward, we were off to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens for a botanical primer of North Alabama plants (which are more akin to those in Maryland and the North Carolina mountains than those in southern Alabama). We pointed ourselves in the direction of the native wildflower garden and we were off. Neither of us were expecting the intricate detail of the floral and botanical offerings we witness therein. We recognized most, some only to genus, and then there were others we eagerly sought the tag for.



We closed down the Birmingham Botanical Garden (and killed our cameras) and then made the drive to Huntsville to stay the night.

~~~

The next morning we got up to an overcast, humid morning, but our stop for breakfast made it all better. Christopher made an excellent find with the Mason Dixon Bakery. It was a great way to start the day!

We headed over to the Huntsville Botanical Garden first thing to meet up with Carol for a tour of the garden and the Trillium collection they are hoping to get NAPCC certified. It was a happy reunion and Christopher and I were quickly whisked off in a 6-seater golf cart with Harold Howard, the Trillium man.

Trillium pusilum, Melantiaceae. Click for more photos of the nursery.

Again, we were immediately in awe of what we'd signed up for. Harold gave us a two-hour tour of their native nursery area that was full of Trillium, native azaleas, Hexastylis, Asarum and a myriad of every other native flowering herb you could imagine. He picked up seed flats, trays, and pots; lifted leaves and pointed out flowers. There seemed no end to the experimentation and learning and discovery that was going on back there. I was so impressed with the volunteer support they have and their support of wild-collecting and rescuing of native plants. Whoa!


We were whisked off to the actual outplanted Trillium collection and the native wildflower area as soon as we could pry ourselves away from the nursery. Just countless "one more Trillium"s later, Carol, Christopher and I had gotten the crash course of a lifetime in the 28 species of Trillium Huntsville had. I was furiously taking notes and pictures and asking questions, and time flew by until my body reminded me it was lunchtime.

Trillium in the Woodland Garden at Huntsville Botanical Garden. Click for more photos.

Carol drove us through the rest of the garden, including the clever children's garden and butterfly house. Sadly it was a little early for the butterflies, but I guess I'll just have to see them on my next visit!

As if the morning-long tour wasn't enough, Christopher and I made out like bandits with Trillium flexipes, Asarum and Hexastylis, as well as several different native azaleas (which is exactly why I keep plastic in the back of my car)!

After a tasty lunch from the garden cafe and a wonderful discussion about what we learned that day, we made our way to Monte Sano State Park, the mountain that loomed over Huntsville, to hunt for wild Trillium. The southeastern side of the mountain was a sheltered valley and looked promising after appraising the nice $3 map we got with our entrance fee.

Shades of spring in the canopy of the forest at Monte Sano. Click for more photos.

The overlook we parked at presented a beautiful view of the valley below and allowed us to feel the breath of spring coming up from it. We started on the Sinks Trail, slowly making our way to the trailhead down the hillside. At first it wasn't looking promising as the understory seemed empty, but as well looked closer the ephemerals of all sorts came into focus. And the Trillium appeared in great swaths. Score.

A ring of Jeffersonia diphylla, Cardamine concatenata, and an unknown herb.

As we made our way further into the valley, a more stunning diversity of plants dotted the landscape. We'd barely made it halfway the hillside when we came to a limestone shelf and Christopher saw the first patch of Jeffersonia diphylla, a rather curious mono-generic member of the Berberidaceae, barberry family. Suddenly there were several clumps and then the whole hillside was dotted with them. It was mind-blowing to see so many in one spot. There were other plants there too, Heuchera villosa growing out of the cracks in the rock and Hepatica nobilis doing its thing. Unreal.

We had to keep moving, though the going was slow. Every five feet was a new plant, a new photo we had to take. Everywhere I looked there was something astounding about the landscape: the contour of the hill, the way the light lit up the emerging leaves on the trees, the towering trees, the stream we came upon. Everything. It was all as if we'd stepped into a fantasy world you only read about in botanical fairy tales.

Mertensia virginica, Virginia Bluebells, Boraginaceae

Our cameras started dying as we came upon a valley of Mertensia virginica, Virginia Bluebells. What started as a random patch of the beautiful, true-blue flowers and a carpet of Sanguinaria canadensis, bloodroot, opened up into an almost acre blanket of the Mertensia in full bloom. We stared in awe as we tried to understand the scale of the scene we were seeing. A closer look showed more Sanguinaria, ferns and even a few Trillium flexipes in the mix. I went into the valley for a scale picture and then Christopher and I spent at least 20 minutes just taking in everything.

But I could hear thunder whispering in the distance and I could tell there was a warning in the air, so it was time to move on. The sun had disappeared behind the mountain towering over us and we had to make it out of the park before sundown. Time to move.

We booked it up the hill and down an adjoining trail back to our car. We got a few more photos out of our phones, playing hopscotch with each other as we tried to hurry down the path while also taking photos. Just as we were starting the final ascent, the thunder cracked above us and the rain came in a gentle, steady stream. We made it back to the car just a little damp.

But the view as we drove back down the mountain was incredible. The sun was setting, emerging from the clouds clearing the horizon. There was another dark warning coming on the western horizon, but for the moment we could enjoy the beautiful sunset, a few more healthy clumps of Trillium cuneatum and some Mason Dixon Gluten-free cupcakes.

~~~

An ocean of Mertenisa virginica in the morning sun. Click for more photos of the morning.

I'm not one for early rises....but this trip was a special occasion. We had a lot to fit into such a small amount of time. We rose just as the sun was coming over Monte Sano State Park and we were ready
for a follow-up trek to see some more of what we missed. It was surprisingly chilly that morning, in the mid-40s by the time we got to the top of the mountain. With out hand firmly buried in our pockets, we descended into the valley as the sun was lighting the mountain side. It seemed spring had taken a queue from the sunshine and a deeper haze of green lit the canopy around us. It was a brisk jaunt and very successful.

We'd started our morning with a minimal breakfast, so it was off to another lovely gluten-free place! We fueled up and then we were off to our final stop: Wheeler National Wildlife Refuge.

It was still chilly in Decatur and it seemed the Saturday morning was prohibitive to many hikers. We stopped in the visitor's center to get our bearings and found out there really weren't many hiking trails. It makes sense, since it is a wildlife refuge, not a human recreation area. We found some trails though and so it was out to the Cypress Trail.

Clear morning path through the cypress swamp. Click for more photos.

It started as a beautiful walk on a boardwalk through the understory of a drove of Taxodium distichum. They were some of the largest I'd ever seen (and Christopher was wonderful enough to volunteer later to be my human yardstick so I could really show how large they were). After we left the boardwalk, however, there was a lot of evidence of invasive species. Ligustrum sinensis had taken over most of the understory and was working on choking out the overstory. It was a sad sight to see after such a beautiful stand of bald cypress. It was heartening to see their efforts to control the Phyllostachys though! Keep it up, USFWS!

Although not robust, these native azaleas made up for it in stature and the breadth of their colonies.

Our next and final stop was just across the road at a peninsula extending out into the Tennessee River. Our first impressions were full of more invasive species, including an Ilex cornuta, Chinese holly (which is a good argument again selling 'Carissa' hollies!!), which I took the liberty of taking out with my hand saw. It was hard to see any native shrubs and herbs through the thicket. There was a healthy overstory of pines, hickories and oaks though. A very interesting diversity of trees, which we'd hardly paid attention to the couple days before.

But finally, as we moved farther away from the trailhead, we started to see more natives than invasives, and then the invasives faded out almost completely. What came into view was a rich understory of native herbs and native azaleas. We saw at least three species of native deciduous azaleas: Rhododendron periclymenoides, R. alabamense and R. canescens. Just like with our experiences with the Trillium the days before, we saw one thicket of azaleas and then we'd look closer and see more and more. I was also heartened by the few healthy Cornus florida I saw as well.

~~~

And all of that was 50 hours curb to curb. Overall, it was an amazing adventure that turning into more than a pilgrimage for Trillium. It was an intensive field course in woodland ephemerals and the simple beauty in natural vignettes. It inspired me to bring more natural elements into the landscape and proves Mother Nature has better taste than I do.