NorthStarNature

Appreciating the Beauty and Wisdom of Nature

You are here: Home / Archives for Purple Pitcher Plants

Courage of an Explorer

by 2 Comments

Imagine your life as a lake. There’s a trail around the life lake that allows us to explore, day after day, this gift we are given. There is mystery, uncertainty, beauty, sustenance, and a calling of spirit that keeps us moving onward. Our lives are the ultimate exploration!

Our fourth hike at Savanna Portage State Park encircled Lake Shumway, the lake adjacent to the campground. Curious about the name, I found out ‘Shumway’ is the Americanized form of the French name ‘Chamois,’ which is a metonymic occupational name. In essence, it names a person by what that person does for a living—in this case, a person closely associated with the mountain goat ‘chamois’ or the leather produced from it. Interesting!

The beginning—of our lives or of the day—is pristine and fresh, misty and mysterious as to what lies before us. The colloquial saying “Today is the first day of the rest of your life” is true! Each dawn of a new day reminds us of that.

After our morning Continental Divide Trail hike and lunch, we began the loop around Lake Shumway. The lake reflected the early afternoon sky—a different look from the sunrise sky and water.

Much of the trail was covered in Pine needles which gave rise to the heady, comforting scent of glorious Pine with each step. We passed by the impressive work of a beaver who had felled a large Pine and removed a chunk of it from the trunk—his work was ongoing.

As with many places along the trails of life, we came to a divergence—one trail continued around the lake, another veered off into the forest towards a bog. We took the bog trail, knowing we would need to backtrack to continue around the lake. How many times do we have a choice in life, take a path, have to backtrack, ‘lose’ time or money, and/or find a treasure?

The bog was in a sad state—our Summer drought had taken its toll on the wetland. The mosses were dried up and discolored; luckily the rhizomal roots of Labrador Tea provided enough water to have kept them green. We found a few Pitcher Plants near Bog Lake with red leaves and dried, nodding flowers. The environment matters as to the flourishing of the members in any ecosystem/community. Temporary droughts/setbacks can be overcome, but continued distresses often cause permanent damage.

Red leaves of Pitcher Plants
Spent flower of Pitcher Plant and seedhead of Cottongrass
Spent flowers of Pitcher Plants

We backtracked back to Lake Shumway trail and found the lodge of the busy beaver. He had a great place to live in the protection of a jutting peninsula.

We boardwalked over a stream and wetland that still had rosy blossoms of Joe Pye Weed and a bright array of yellow Sneezeweed. Beautiful ‘weeds’ in just the right places.

The trail rose in elevation where Maple trees lined the path. We crunched through red leaves that had fallen in the early Fall. Sunlight dappled the dotted trail.

A stand of Pines lined the shore about halfway around the Lake. It was a peaceful place to loiter, to stand back-to-trunk with a tree to breathe in the beauty.

Two-thirds around the Lake, we left the water’s edge to skirt a wetland area. Again, we climbed up into the forest hill until, again, we came to another fork in the trail. After examining the map, we decided to take the narrow, more rugged trail that would take us by the lakeshore. It would also lead us to a backpack/canoe-in campsite I wanted to see. The campsite was situated on a rounded peninsula, tucked into the cove side. It had a beautiful view of the Lake from a tent area closest to the water. A picnic table sat under the tall trees with a fire ring close by. A three-sided, rough-hewn Oak lean-to with a long bench and peg hooks offered protection for firewood and sun- or rain-drenched campers. I was really excited that the site had its own outhouse, not just a trail latrine! I could live here! I thought.

I didn’t take any pictures of the campsite, but I kind of want to go back and camp there sometime. It was an unexpected find with a special feel to it—that spirit of the wilderness that combines discovery, freedom, peace, and a satisfactory sense of being.

The white sign shows the campsite from the water’s view.

Tree roots made stair steps, ‘like a railroad track’ observed Chris—the ways we get where we’re going.

The bright berries of a Winterberry shrub that climbed close to an old Birch tree help us know that we can be fruitful during any season of life.

On the last part of the trail we passed another beaver lodge that was covered with Jewel Weeds, and beside the lodge was an old, fallen tree that seemed to be a practice log (or maybe a teeth-sharpening log)?

We also passed a random boulder that was at the edge of the Lake—out of place but purposeful, it seemed.

We finished our hike and found the campground had cleared out—it was only us and one other couple in this loop of the campground. Evening on Lake Shumway was peaceful and calm. We had circled the Lake—what more could we see and learn?

The random boulder from the water’s view.

The next morning after some rain and before more rain, we paddled a canoe onto Lake Shumway. There’s more to a lake than a person can see from the shore, and there’s more to life than walking the trail over the years. Our interior life is a whole new adventure to explore, and in most cases, takes even more courage to navigate.

Reflecting on the paths we have taken, the work we have done, the bridges we may have burned, and the special or not-so-special people and places we have encountered is the soul work of our lives. Asking ourselves questions and waiting patiently for the absolute truth of the answer—the answer that wells up tears in our eyes and resonates deep in our hearts and bodies. It takes so much courage to go there, to explore there, to be present there. But therein also lies the trail to freedom, peace, and satisfaction. We may have felt out of place in the world, but after exploring our interior life, we can be like the lake-side boulder and stand in our purpose and dignity. Our soul work is ongoing.

On a Quest for the Elusive Pitcher Plant

by 6 Comments

Two years ago for my birthday we hiked at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park where I discovered the intriguing deep red flower of the Purple Pitcher Plant. But it was in the middle of a bog, unreachable, unattainable, elusive. So I was never able to see the actual plant—the ‘pitcher’ part, the insect-eating, carnivorous, cartoonishly-scary part of the plant. So a few days after my birthday, when I knew the Pitcher Plants would be blooming, we got up early in the morning and headed north to Lake Bemidji State Park. The boggy land between and among Lakes Bemidji, Big Bass, Timber, and Big Bog has been protected as a park since 1923. The bogs are a result of water-filled depressions formed by the receding glaciers that over the years has filled with partially decayed plant material or peat. Bogs contain decayed sphagnum peat moss which can hold water like a sponge and is used to enrich garden soil. The bog environment is cold, acidic, and low in oxygen, a rather challenging ecosystem for plants to thrive. So they have adapted by becoming efficient in the use of light, moisture, and nutrients. Many have evergreen leaves to extend the growing season, some have thick, fleshy leaves to store moisture, and many have showy flowers to attract pollinating insects, then produce huge numbers of seeds. We found our way to Bog Walk Trail, prepared for mosquito attacks, and walked through the upland woods to the bog boardwalk.

Bunchberry Dogwoods are a low-growing groundcover, a northern Dogwood with the iconic showy white flowers. A cluster of bright red berries forms after flowering.

Soon I spotted the elusive Purple Pitcher Plant flower among the Horsetails, its heavy head bent over, its stem buried in the abundant vegetation of the bog! I strained to see the base of the flower, the ‘pitcher,’ but could not see it.

My attention was drawn to a single purple flower on a smooth stem, a Dragon’s Mouth Orchid! This beautiful flower will produce up to a million seeds! That is mind bog-gling!

I did not have to walk far before I saw more Pitcher Plant flowers on their sturdy, curving stems, and this time I was just able to find the green-mouthed ‘pitcher’ at their base.

If one was walking the boardwalk even at a stroll, there are many plants and flowers that would be missed. This is a place that compels a person to look closely, to stop and peer into the green wonderland of this soft world. Twinflowers rise from a single stem, then a pair of pink, bell-shaped flowers opens above the creeping evergreen leaves. These tiny flowers (1/3″ to 1/2″) are fragrant for their diminutive size (almond scented), are part of the Honeysuckle family, and have the lovely Latin name of Linnaea borealis!

At the Mille Lacs Kathio bog, I was enthralled with the clumps of Tussock Cottongrass. At Lake Bemidji bog, a different species—Slender Cottongrass—grows. It is smaller, droopier, but no less stunning!

Large-leaved Showy Lady’s Slippers (Minnesota’s State Flower) were in the bud stage, just about to bloom. Another of the Orchid family species, the Stemless Lady’s Slipper or Moccasin Flower, was in full pink bloom.

Starflower, a type of Primrose, and Labrador Tea, a type of Heath, were abundant in the bog. Most of the Labrador Teas were past bloom, but we found some in shadier spots that were open and seemingly desirable to some insects. (Speaking of insects, we were amazingly not bothered by mosquitoes!)

I saw more and more of the nodding Purple Pitcher Plant flowers as we walked the boardwalk trail. Even when they were close to the trail and in relatively open vegetation, the Pitcher Plants were well-camouflaged. The ‘pitcher’ is a very specialized leaf in the shape of a cylinder. It is an engineering marvel with a ‘wing’ structure down the front to strengthen it when it is full of rainwater. The lip is densely covered with stiff downward-angled hairs that help glide the insects into the enzyme-rich rainwater where it drowns and is ‘digested’ so the nutrients can be used by the plant. The red-purple veining and nectar attract the insects to their demise.

We saw more bright Moccasin Flowers, a few other Dragon’s Mouth Orchids, and some Wild Lily of the Valley. The forest part of the bog was occupied by Tamarack (Larch) and Black Spruce trees who like wet feet and acidic conditions.

The Pitcher Plant flowers are in and of themselves a work of art. Their thick, waxy petals can be in all states of opening—from tight buds to open, expanded umbrellas. After the petals fall the seed capsule remains on the long stem into Fall.

The mossy floor of the bog is suspended above water and is the substrate from which the plants grow. The trees grow horizontal roots to help them stand in the wet conditions. Marsh Marigolds, with their veined round leaves, were at the end of their blooming season; we saw a few of the rich golden flowers.

As we got closer to Big Bog Lake, we began to see some cattails growing with the bog plants. Wild Calla Lilies, with their beautiful heart-shaped leaves, grew in the outlet of the lake.

Wild Blueberries were bountiful in the bog and were setting fruit.

Smaller even than the Twinflowers are the Bog Cranberry flowers (1/4″) with pinkish-white petals that curl back away from the stamens and pistil. They have viney evergreen leaves and produce a small, red fruit. Now look even more closely—at the bottom center of the photo below the small Cranberry flowers is another carnivorous plant of the bog—Round-leaved Sundew. The round, reddish tinged leaves have sticky hairs that trap and enfold insects that are digested for nutrients for the tiny plant.

The bog is a fascinating ecosystem with beautiful and interesting plants. The elusive Purple Pitcher Plants ended up being plentiful in the Bemidji bog! Their pitcher leaves turn more colorful with the sun and the progression of the season. They are a perfect example of evolutionary adaptability that all the plants of the bog display.

From my first encounter with the alluring Purple Pitcher Plant flower, I became kind of obsessed with them. I had heard of carnivorous plants, but did not realize they were right here in the wilds of Minnesota! And while they were elusive in the bogs I had visited, I was hardly a bog aficionada (well, I do have the enthusiasm and appreciation.) I had the desire to see more and learn more (a quest) and was happy to get up early to go to a place we had never been before. There are many desires in our lives that seem unreachable, unattainable, or elusive. How can we find these hard-to-catch yearnings? Being in the right place at the right time is more than just a cliché—some of our longings absolutely need to be timed correctly and situated in the right place—or the pursuit will be unreachable. It also helps to have the right people who are willing and able to walk beside us, be patient and encouraging, and who possess a kind heart and sense of humor. I’m grateful my bog boardwalking partner is all of that. Most every one of us have a bountiful life teeming with beauty, diversity, and goodness. Stop for a moment or two and peer into the wonderland that is your life on this amazing, great green Earth.

Nature’s Art Museum and the Art of Aging

by 4 Comments

It’s a mystery to me how I can be as old as I am. I never think about my face having lines and sun spots; it’s just the opposite. From the inside, I’m pretty sure my face is only forty—a young forty, I’m thinking—so that’s a great set-up for some dismay and disappointment when I look in the mirror! Aging is a humorous mystery that we all endure when we are lucky enough to do so.

In celebration of my turning another year older (almost four weeks ago now), Chris and I hiked at Mille Lacs Kathio State Park. It was a beautiful, blue-sky day, warm but not too hot, with a breeze that made shade-dwelling just about perfect. We went to the bog boardwalk first—the Touch the Earth Trail. (I love that name.) I get a thrill seeing the blooming plants that inhabit the bog, and the mystical, long-stemmed Cottongrass was as spectacular as when I first saw it! What an unusual, awesome plant!

I was expecting to see a bed of white-blooming Labrador Tea in the bog (or bog azaleas, as I call them), but only a few were blooming. We had had a freeze those two nights before Memorial Day, so I thought that must be the reason. There were other signs that frost had damaged the mosses and leaves of other plants.

There is nary an insect as mystical as a dragonfly—their gossamer wings, their large, compound eyes, their quick, multi-directional flight, and how they light upon some object in peaceful repose.

Another insect crawling up a dead tree that his relatives likely caused the demise of—a Western Sculptured Pine Borer—had his own air of mystery and flair. With large copper-speckled eyes, artfully segmented legs, and textured, metallic and black body, the Pine Borer shimmered in the sunlight.

Large, vase-shaped Cinnamon Ferns were abundant in the bog. The fertile fronds are the namesake, like cinnamon sticks among the green.

Wild Blueberries were setting fruit, though I imagine the fruit buds were also nipped by the freeze, as fruit was scarce.

We drove to a parking area for a trail we hadn’t been on before that was described as hilly and rough terrain. I was surprised by how damp the trail was in areas, considering how drought-like our Spring had been. Soon we were in thick woods on a little-used trail, the undergrowth brushing our legs and arms as we walked through. I resigned myself to the fact that we were picking up ticks and vowed to enjoy the trail and deal with them later. It’s always a bit of a challenge to ‘watch’ my feet on a rocky or rooty trail and to watch for beautiful things around me, but I have gotten fairly good at it. So I was lucky enough to see this beautiful creature looking at us from behind a tree! His velvet-covered antlers were in the growth stage, when the fuzzy-looking skin supplies blood, oxygen, and nutrients to quickly grow the antlers for another season. When fully grown, depending on genetics, health, and age of the buck, the antlers harden, and the velvet is shed with the help of rubbing action on trees. We stood and looked at one another, both of us curious about the other.

The trail brought us to a wetland area that opened up in the middle of the forest. Crows cawed from the top of a dead tree, the self-appointed sentries for the woodland creatures. A board walk elevated our feet above the Wild Calla water plants and was a table for a crayfish-eating animal who didn’t clean up his leftovers.

Another dragonfly posed in the sunlight amidst the art of logs, sedge grass, duckweed, Wild Callas, and moss. We were in a museum of Nature’s Art.

We circled around the wetland on the trail that kept us guessing whether we were on the trail! Soon our elevated vantage point allowed us to see open water reflecting green vegetation and blue sky. An open waterway through the wetland plants and chewed trees indicated that we were visiting the home of a beaver family.

We passed a stately Pine that had a large, old wound scratched head-high into the bark. Dried amber droplets of sap had oozed from the wound, like healing tears to a wounded soul. They glistened in the sunlight.

Another board ferried us across a black, icky-looking swamp. A closer look revealed decaying leaves, Maple seeds, and a thick mat of green slime algae.

At the farthest point on the loop trail was a backpacking campsite overlooking the White Water Lily-covered pond. A breeze evaporated the heat and sweat we had generated to get there as we took a water and rest break. A pair of rusty-headed Trumpeter Swans flew in and settled into their peaceful, secluded home.

Back on the trail, we walked through Oak, Maple, and Birch trees until we came to a Tamarack bog. The wispy soft needles and craggy branches create an other-worldly effect in the bumpy bog, along with the bunches of four-foot-high ferns.

Deep in the bog, I caught sight of something red-colored. I left the trail and walked closer to get a better look. At one point I stepped from the firm forest floor into the squishy bog. I pulled my foot back from the wetness. The bog maintains its boundaries to protect the highly specialized plants and delicate ecosystem of sphagnum peat moss. From my dry footing, I zoomed in to see dark reddish-purple flowers with long stems and nodding heads. They were all pointed away from me, though I was able to get a slight sideways shot of one that showed a bright yellow center. What were these amazing flowers?! I had never seen anything like them before! I circled around the bog, hoping to see ‘the other side’ of the flower…but I never could. They were so deep into the center of the bog that I could not see more than their dark red backs.

It wasn’t until I was home with access to the computer that I discovered the amazing flower was that of a Purple Pitcher Plant, a carnivorous plant that grows in the acidic bog. The rain-catching ‘pitcher’ of the plant attracts flies, ants, spiders, and moths that drown in the water and are ‘digested’ by a certain species of mosquito and midge along with bacteria. The plant is able to use the digested nutrients to grow.

The edge of the bog was scattered with ferns, club mosses, and an occasional Pink Lady’s Slipper, a hardy orchid pollinated by bumblebees.

Another wetland flower that graced the early June trails was the Northern Blueflag Iris with their long, spear-like leaves and paper-thin lavender flower petals. They begin as dark purple conical buds, open to exquisite light-purple variegated blossoms, then curl and wither in the progression of age—the lifeline of us and all of Nature.

It was a happy birthday for me—I had discovered a ‘new’ flower and an amazing bog. I watched an elegant pair of swans and exchanged curious glances with a deer. I saw a black swamp and pristine white water lilies. I witnessed the progression and mystery of life and admired Nature’s art museum. My June birth flower is the Rose, and I appreciate and embrace the wild version for my flower. After our hike, we had a picnic by the roses alongside the Rum River. And even though I removed dozens of crawling ticks while we sat there, another mystical, magical dragonfly lighted on a stick nearby.

The mystery of aging—how we feel on the inside, how we look on the outside—spares no one lucky enough to struggle with their young-old identity. We grow with expectations—sky-high dreams and naïve aspirations. We are fresh, innocent, deep-colored buds of humans. We open to reality—our whole-hearted beautiful selves, shiny objects that can destroy, wounds that heal with amber tears forever embedded in our hearts, discoveries of muck and beauty. And then we fade, we wrinkle, and we attain a level of understanding that is only possible after staring into the wild eyes of Life. And through it all, we are the curators of Nature’s art museum. We choose how to look at, how to ‘see’ the world around us. If we’re lucky, we discover new things, we respect portraits of pain, we appreciate images of awesome beauty, and we imitate the mystery and magic of dragonflies.