Spring Ephemerals

In the northern hardwood forest, trout lily begins to bloom almost before the last snow melts in the deepest stands of fir or cedar. All winter, the root has slowly grown deeper into the earth; before the snow has melted, the shoot has begun to push through last autumn’s duff. The mottled, red and green leaves emerge all at once, seemingly overnight, to blanket the forest floor. Another day or two, and their drooping flowers unfurl to entice the early, forest pollinators. For a week, in the sun beneath the bare trees, they adorn the forest in yellow. And then they vanish before the spring has ended, withdrawn beneath the earth until the next awakening.

Two trout lilies begin to bloom on the forest floor. Their drooping yellow flowers rise above red and green mottled, lance-shaped leaves.
Trout Lilies
Trout Lily

Although they form an almost insignificant part of the biomass of the forest, trout lilies — in fact, all of the ephemeral spring flowers — have evolved to play an important recycling role in the ecosystem. In the early days of spring, these fragile wildflowers capture much of the precious nitrogen and phosphorous that would otherwise leach away into the earth with the snowmelt and spring rains. They bind the vital nutrients into their tissues for a few, critical weeks. Then, when the ubiquitous fungi have spread their hyphal nets through the forest litter, and when the trees have again sent their fine roots growing and scavenging through the shallow, organic soil, the decomposing trout lilies release what they have conserved.

A painted trillium on the forest floor.
Painted Trillium in the South March Highlands

Ottawa offers many wonderful places to observe spring wildflowers. I recommend the older, hardwood forests on Canadian shield, like the South March Highlands Conservation Forest or the Crazy Horse Trail in the Carp Hills. Pink Lake, in Gatineau Park, offers one of the most varied and beautiful displays. As the trail circling the lake climbs from the low, rich shoreline to lichen-encrusted bedrock, it passes through a range of micr0-habitats and soils. Each unique combination of light, moisture, and nutrients supports its own flora. Early saxifrage, my favourite spring flower, grows on the cliffs along the east side of the lake. Proof that, “life finds a way” (to quote Malcolm from Jurassic Park), it roots in cracks and crevices with only a dusting of soil to support it. According to the Canadian Encyclopedia, the name itself, saxifragus, means “stonebreaking”. It embodies for me the resilience and tenacity of life, especially after the long winter.

An early saxifrage blooms in a cluster of white flowers, emerging from a rosette of leaves clinging to a crevice in bare rock.
Early Saxifrage at Pink Lake
A red trillium at Pink Lake.
A Red Trillium at Pink Lake
Wild ginger growing at pink lake
Wild Ginger at Pink Lake
The yellow bloom of large flowered bellwort droops from its limp leaves.
Large Flowered Bellwort at Pink Lake

Spring ephemerals remind me that every trial — every long winter, every dark night, every storm, every spiritual drought — comes to an end. On some afternoon, we will feel the sun on our faces and catch the moist, redolence of life emerging from the earth. The scent will rise in our chests and head. Our eyes will see a little more clearly. Our steps will feel a little more light.

Time of Rebirth

Sometime around the second week of May, a magical event happens in Ottawa:  the buds begin to burst on the trees.  For weeks, they have swollen with the lengthening days, drawing sustenance from their roots and the moist, spring earth.  Some smaller trees and shrubs have already sprouted leaves, and some canopy trees will wait a while longer.  But the vanguard of the northern hardwood forest — the maples, beeches, birches, ash, basswoods, oaks — erupt with new leaves.  As they unfold, the grey forest turns a delicate, pale green.  Still translucent, the young leaves glow in the morning sunlight, each like a little flower.  The forest has a momentary gaiety, like a young girl twirling in her first dress.

Pale green leaves unfurl at the end of a twig.
Spring foliage

A tree-clad cliff rises from the water of Pink Lake.
Pink Lake Shoreline

For several years, I have taken vacation during the second week of May.  Sometimes I go camping.  Sometimes I stay in town.  Either way, I spend my free days indulging in the exuberant rebirth that spring brings.  The migratory songbirds arrive:  warblers, vireos, thrushes, flycatchers, swallows, sparrows.  They flit through the tree-tops and scurry in the underbrush, still easily visible in the young foliage.  Their early-morning chorus begins before dawn and ends only with the heat of midday.  Spring wildflowers speckle the forest slopes:  pointillist dreams of white trilliums; lilies, violets and dutchman’s britches; honeysuckle and elder.  A few spring peepers still call, along with the croak of leopard frogs and the trill of american toads.  Reptiles emerge into the sun, still half torpid from winter.  Turtles bask on logs, more reluctant to re-enter the cold water than later in the summer.  Snakes sun themselves on warm, grey rocks or under old boards.  Even fish seek the shallows to warm themselves in the welcome rays.

A photograph of a white trillium in full bloom at Pink Lake.
White Trillium at Pink Lake

An early saxifrage blooms in a cluster of white flowers, emerging from a rosette of leaves clinging to a crevice in bare rock.
Early Saxifrage at Pink Lake

The yellow bloom of large flowered bellwort droops from its limp leaves.
Large Flowered Bellwort at Pink Lake

A close-up photograph of a red trillium shows the purplish petals, large sepals and stamen.
Red Trillium

I’ve spent this past week exploring some old and new haunts by bicycle and canoe:  the Rideau River, Pink Lake, Baie McLaurin, Shirley’s Bay, Poole Creek.  I’ve ridden about 250 km, sometimes with canoe in tow behind my bike.  I recently purchased a canoe trailer for my bike from Wike, mainly to eliminate the need to book a VrtuCar (a local car-sharing business) any time that I wanted to go canoeing.  Already, the combination of my two favourite activities has given me incredible satisfaction… as well as some intense exercise.

A canoe rides on a trailer attached to a bicycle.
Canoe Trailer by Wike

The bow of a canoe cuts through glassy water at Shirley's Bay. A bicycle lies in the canoe.
Canoeing at Shirley’s Bay

Large silver maple trees surround a canoe at Shirley's Bay.
Silver Maple Swamp at Shirley’s Bay

A longnose gar basks in the shallows at Shirley's Bay.
Longnose Gar at Shirley’s Bay

The Rideau River looks placid under a blue sky sprinkled with fair-weather cumulus clouds.
Rideau River Morning

A great blue heron hunts below a bridge over the Rideau River.
Great Blue Heron

A sleepy snapping turtle basks in the mud on the shore of the Rideau River.
Sleepy Snapping Turtle on the Rideau River

A map turtle basks on a log in the Rideau River.
Map Turtle on the Rideau River

Four ostrich fern fronds begin to unfurl on the shore of the Rideau River.
Ostrich Fern on the Rideau River

I look forward to my summer vacation — those full, glorious two weeks in late June and early July.  I can feel the warmth, see the dragonflies dancing over the ponds, feel my fly rod in my hands.  The time will pass slower and more restfully.  But the days won’t bring the same sense of excitement and wonder as my May sabbatical, when all the world’s anew.

An adult milk snake warms itself on the pavement of a bicycle path.
Milk Snake on a Bicycle Path