How to know the wild flowers

In late summer many of our lanes are hedged by this beautiful plant, which, like other members of its family, lifts its yellow flowers sunward in pale imitation of the great life-giver itself. We have twenty-two different species of sunflower. H. divaricatus is of a lower growth, with opposite, widely spreading leaves and larger flower-heads. H. annuus is the garden species familiar to all; this is said to be a native of Peru. Mr. Ellwanger writes regarding it: “In the mythology of the ancient Peruvians it occupied an important place, and was employed as a mystic decoration in ancient Mexican sculpture. Like the lotus of the East, it is equally a sacred and an artistic emblem, figuring in the symbolism of Mexico and Peru, where the Spaniards found it rearing its aspiring stalk in the fields, and serving in the temples as a sign and a decoration, the sun-god’s officiating handmaidens wearing upon their breasts representations of the sacred flower in beaten gold.”

Gerarde describes it as follows: “The Indian Sun or the golden floure of Peru is a plant of such stature and talnesse that in one Sommer, being sowne of a seede in April, it hath risen up to the height of fourteen foot in my garden, where one floure was in weight three pound and two ounces, and crosse overthwart the floure by measure sixteen inches broad.”

The generic name is from helios—the sun, and anthos—a flower.

Sneezeweed. Swamp Sunflower.
Helenium autumnale. Composite Family (p. 13).

One to six feet high. Stem.—Angled, erect, branching. Leaves.—Alternate, lance-shaped. Flower-heads.—Yellow, composed of both ray and disk-flowers, the rays being somewhat cleft.

As far north as Connecticut we see masses of these bright flowers bordering the streams and swamps in September.

Stick-tight. Bur Marigold, Beggar-ticks.
Bidens frondosa. Composite Family (p. 13).

Two to six feet high. Stem.—Branching. Leaves.—Opposite, three to five-divided. Flower-heads.—Consisting of brownish-yellow tubular flowers, with a leaf-like involucre beneath.

If one were only describing the attractive wild flowers, the stick-tight would certainly be omitted, as its appearance is not prepossessing, and the small barbed seed-vessels so cleverly fulfil their destiny in making one’s clothes a means of conveyance to “fresh woods and pastures new” as to cause all wayfarers heartily to detest them. “How surely the desmodium growing on some cliff-side, or the bidens on the edge of a pool, prophesy the coming of the traveller, brute or human, that will transport their seeds on his coat,” writes Thoreau. But the plant is so constantly encountered in late summer, and yet so generally unknown, that it can hardly be overlooked.

The larger bur marigold, B. chrysanthemoides, does its best to retrieve the family reputation for ugliness, and surrounds its dingy disk-flowers with a circle of showy golden rays which are strictly decorative, having neither pistils nor stamens, and leaving all the work of the household to the less attractive but more useful disk-flowers. Their effect is pleasing, and late into the autumn the moist ditches look as if sown with gold through their agency. The plant varies in height from six inches to two feet. Its leaves are opposite, lance-shaped, and regularly toothed.

Smooth False Foxglove.
Gerardia quercifolia. Figwort Family.

Stem.—Smooth, three to six feet high, usually branching. Leaves.—The lower usually deeply incised, the upper narrowly oblong, incised, or entire. Flowers.—Yellow, large, in a raceme or spike. Calyx.—Five-cleft. Corolla.—Two inches long, somewhat tubular, swelling above, with five more or less unequal, spreading lobes, woolly within. Stamens.—Four, in pairs, woolly. Pistil.—One.

These large pale yellow flowers are very beautiful and striking when seen in the dry woods of late summer. They are all the more appreciated because there are few flowers abroad at this season save the Composites, which are decorative and radiant enough, but usually somewhat lacking in the delicate charm we look for in a flower.

The members of this genus, which is named after Gerarde, the author of the famous “Herball,” are supposed to be more or less parasitic in their habits, drawing their nourishment from the roots of other plants.

The downy false foxglove, G. flava, is usually a somewhat lower plant, with a close down, a less-branched stem, more entire leaves, and smaller, similar flowers.

Tansy.
Tanacetum vulgare. Composite Family (p. 13).

Stem.—Two to four feet high. Leaves.—Divided into toothed leaflets. Flower-heads.—Yellow, composed of tiny flowers which are nearly, if not all, tubular in shape; borne in flat-topped clusters.

With the name of tansy we seem to catch a whiff of its strong-scented breath and a glimpse of some New England homestead beyond whose borders it has strayed to deck the roadside with its deep yellow, flat-topped flower-clusters. The plant has been used in medicine since the Middle Ages, and in more recent times it has been gathered by the country people for “tansy wine” and “tansy tea.” In the Roman Church it typifies the bitter herbs which were to be eaten at the Paschal season; and cakes made of eggs and its leaves are called “tansies,” and eaten during Lent. It is also frequently utilized in more secular concoctions.

The common name is supposed to be a corruption of the Greek word for immortality.

Witch-hazel.
Hamamelis Virginiana. Witch-hazel Family.

A tall shrub. Leaves.—Oval, wavy-toothed, mostly falling before the flowers appear. Flowers.—Honey-yellow, clustered, autumnal. Calyx.—Four-parted. Corolla.—Of four long narrow petals. Stamens.—Eight. Pistils.—Two. Fruit.—A capsule which bursts elastically, discharging its large seeds with vigor.

It seems as though the flowers of the witch-hazel were fairly entitled to the “booby-prize,” of the vegetable world. Surely no other blossoms make their first appearance so invariably late upon the scene of action. The fringed gentian often begins to open its “meek and quiet eye” quite early in September. Certain species of golden-rod and aster continue to flower till late in the year, but they began putting forth their bright clusters before the summer was fairly over; while the elusively fragrant, pale yellow blossoms of the witch-hazel need hardly be expected till well on in September, when its leaves have fluttered earthward and its fruit has ripened. Does the pleasure which we experience at the spring-like apparition of this leafless yellow-flowered shrub in the autumn woods arise from the same depraved taste which is gratified by strawberries at Christmas, I wonder? Or is it that in the midst of death we have a foretaste of life; a prophecy of the great yearly resurrection which even now we may anticipate?

Thoreau’s tastes in such directions were certainly not depraved, and he writes: “The witch-hazel loves a hill-side with or without woods or shrubs. It is always pleasant to come upon it unexpectedly as you are threading the woods in such places. Methinks I attribute to it some elfish quality apart from its fame. I love to behold its gray speckled stems.” Under another date he writes: “Heard in the night a snapping sound, and the fall of some small body on the floor from time to time. In the morning I found it was produced by the witch-hazel nuts on my desk springing open and casting their seeds quite across my chamber, hard and stony as these nuts were.”

The Indians long ago discovered the value of its bark for medicinal purposes, and it is now utilized in many well-known extracts. The forked branches formerly served as divining-rods in the search for water and precious ores. This belief in its mysterious power very possibly arose from its suggestive title, which Dr. Prior says should be spelled wych-hazel, as it was called after the wych-elm, whose leaves it resembles, and which was so named because the chests termed in old times “wyches” were made of its wood—

Note.—The flowers of the American Woodbine and of the Fly Honeysuckle (p. 228), and of the Golden Corydalis (p. 192) are also yellow.

Trailing Arbutus. Mayflower. Ground Laurel.
Epigæa repens. Heath Family.

Stem.—With rusty hairs, prostrate or trailing. Leaves.—Rounded, heart-shaped at base, evergreen. Flowers.—Pink, clustered, fragrant. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.—Five-lobed, salver-shaped, with a slender tube which is hairy within. Stamens.—Ten. Pistil.—One, with a five-lobed stigma.

describes, but does scant justice to the trailing arbutus, whose waxy blossoms and delicious breath are among the earliest prophecies of perfume-laden summer. We look for these flowers in April—not beneath the snow—where tradition rashly locates them—but under the dead brown leaves of last year; and especially among the pines and in light sandy soil. Appearing as they do when we are eager for some tangible assurance that

they win from many of us the gladdest recognition of the year.

In New England they are called Mayflowers, being peddled about the streets of Boston every spring, under the suggestive and loudly emphasized title of “Ply-y-mouth Ma-ayflowers!” Whether they owe this name to the ship which is responsible for so much, or to their season of blooming, in certain localities, might remain an open question had we not the authority of Whittier for attributing it to both causes. In a note prefacing “The Mayflowers,” the poet says: “The trailing arbutus or Mayflower grows abundantly in the vicinity of Plymouth, and was the first flower to greet the Pilgrims after their fearful winter.” In the poem itself he wonders what the old ship had

and continues—

If the poet’s fancy was founded on fact, and if our lovely and wide-spread Mayflower was indeed the first blossom noted and christened by our forefathers, it seems as though the problem of a national flower must be solved by one so lovely and historic as to silence all dispute. And when we read the following prophetic stanzas which close the poem, showing that during another dark period in our nation’s history these brave little blossoms, struggling through the withered leaves, brought a message of hope and courage to the heroic heart of the Quaker poet, our feeling that they are peculiarly identified with our country’s perilous moments is intensified:

Stem.—Slender, creeping and trailing. Leaves.—Rounded, shining and evergreen. Flowers.—Growing in pairs, delicate pink, fragrant, nodding on thread-like, upright flower-stalks. Calyx.—Five-toothed. Corolla.—Narrowly bell-shaped, five-lobed, hairy within. Stamens.—Four, two shorter than the others. Pistil.—One.

Whoever has seen

will not soon forget the exquisite carpeting made by its nodding pink flowers and dark shining leaves; or the delicious perfume which actually filled the air and drew one’s attention to the spot from which it was exhaled, tempting one to exclaim with Richard Jefferies, “Sweetest of all things is wild-flower air!” That this little plant should have been selected as “the monument of the man of flowers” by the great Linnæus himself, bears testimony to his possession of that appreciation of the beautiful which is supposed to be lacking in men of long scientific training. I believe that there is extant at least one contemporary portrait of Linnæus in which he wears the tiny flowers in his buttonhole. The rosy twin-blossoms are borne on thread-like, forking flower-stalks, and appear in June in the deep, cool, mossy woods of the North.

Showy Orchis.
Orchis spectabilis. Orchis Family (p. 17).

Stem.—Four-angled, with leaf-like bracts, rising from fleshy, fibrous roots. Leaves.—Two, oblong, shining, three to six inches long. Flowers.—In a loose spike, purple-pink, the lower lip white.

This flower not only charms us with its beauty when its clusters begin to dot the rich May woods, but interests us as being usually the first member of the Orchis family to appear upon the scene; although it is claimed in certain localities that the beautiful Calypso always, and the Indian moccason occasionally, precedes it.

A certain fascination attends the very name of orchid. Botanist and unscientific flower-lover alike pause with unwonted interest when the discovery of one is announced. With the former there is always the possibility of finding some rare species, while the excitement of the latter is apt to be whetted with the hope of beholding a marvellous imitation of bee or butterfly fluttering from a mossy branch with roots that draw their nourishment from the air! While this little plant is sure to fail of satisfying the hopes of either, it is far prettier if less rare than many of its brethren, and its interesting mechanism will repay our patient study. It is said closely to resemble the “long purples,” O. mascula, which grew near the scene of Ophelia’s tragic death.

Twisted Stalk.
Streptopus roseus. Lily Family.

Stems.—Rather stout and zigzag, forking and diverging. Leaves.—Taper-pointed, slightly clasping. Flowers.—Dull purplish-pink, hanging on thread-like flower-stalks from the axils of the leaves. Perianth.—Somewhat bell-shaped, of six distinct sepals. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One, with a three-cleft stigma.

This plant presents a graceful group of forking branches and pointed leaves. No blossom is seen from above, but on picking a branch one finds beneath each of its outspread leaves one or two slender, bent stalks from which hang the pink, bell-like flowers. In general aspect the plant somewhat resembles its relations, the Solomon’s seal, with which it is found blossoming in the woods of May or June. The English title is a translation of the generic name, Streptopus.

Wild Pink.
Silene Pennsylvanica. Pink Family.

Stems.—Four to eight inches high. Leaves.—Those from the root narrowly wedge-shaped, those on the stem lance-shaped, opposite. Flowers.—Bright pink, clustered. Calyx.—Five-toothed. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.—Ten. Pistil.—One, with three styles.

When a vivid cluster of wild pinks gleams from some rocky opening in the May woods, it is difficult to restrain one’s eagerness, for there is something peculiarly enticing in these fresh, vigorous-looking flowers. They are quite unlike most of their fragile contemporaries, for they seem to be already imbued with the glowing warmth of summer, and to have no memory of that snowy past which appears to leave its imprint on so many blossoms of the early year.

In waste places, from June until September or later, we find the small clustered pink flowers, which open transiently in the sunshine of the sleepy catchfly, S. antirrhina.

Pink Lady’s Slipper. Moccason-flower.
Cypripedium acaule. Orchis Family (p. 17).

Scape.—Eight to twelve inches high, two-leaved at base, downy, one-flowered. Leaves.—Two, large, many-nerved and plaited, sheathing at the base. Flower.—Solitary, purple-pink. Perianth.—Of three greenish spreading sepals, the two lateral petals narrow, spreading, greenish, the pink lip in the shape of a large inflated pouch. Stamens.—Two, the short filaments each bearing a two-celled anther. Stigma.—Broad, obscurely three-lobed, moist and roughish.

writes Elaine Goodale of the moccason-flower. This is a blossom whose charm never wanes. It seems to be touched with the spirit of the deep woods, and there is a certain fitness in its Indian name, for it looks as though it came direct from the home of the red man. All who have found it in its secluded haunts will sympathize with Mr. Higginson’s feeling that each specimen is a rarity, even though he should find a hundred to an acre. Gray assigns it to “dry or moist woods,” while Mr. Baldwin writes: “The finest specimens I ever saw sprang out of cushions of crisp reindeer moss high up among the rocks of an exposed hill-side, and again I have found it growing vigorously in almost open swamps, but nearly colorless from excessive moisture.” The same writer quotes a lady who is familiar with it in the Adirondacks. She says: “It seems to have a great fondness for decaying wood, and I often see a whole row perched like birds along a crumbling log.” While I recall a mountain lake where the steep cliffs rise from the water’s edge, here and there, on a tiny shelf strewn with pine-needles, can be seen a pair of large veiny leaves, above which, in early June, the pink balloon-like blossom floats from its slender scape.

Scape.—Rising about one foot from a small solid bulb. Leaf.—Linear, grass-like. Flowers.—Two to six on each scape, purple-pink, about one inch broad, the lip as if hinged at its insertion, bearded toward the summit with white, yellow, and purple hairs. The peculiarity of this orchid is that the ovary is not twisted, and consequently the lip is on the upper instead of the lower side of the flower.

One may hope to find these bright flowers growing side by side with the glistening sundew in the rich bogs of early summer. Mr. Baldwin assigns still another constant companion to the Calopogon, an orchid which staggers under the terrifying title of Pogonia ophioglossoides. The generic name of Calopogon is from two Greek words signifying beautiful beard and has reference to the delicately bearded lip.

Pink Azalea. Wild Honeysuckle. Pinxter Flower. Swamp Pink.
Rhododendron nudiflorum. Heath Family.

A shrub from two to six feet high. Leaves.—Narrowly oblong, downy underneath, usually appearing somewhat later than the flowers. Flowers.—Pink, clustered. Calyx.—Minute. Corolla.—Funnel-shaped, with five long recurved lobes. Stamens.—Five or ten, long, protruding noticeably. Pistil.—One, long, protruding.

Our May swamps and moist woods are made rosy by masses of the pink azalea which is often known as the wild honeysuckle, although not even a member of the Honeysuckle family. It is in the height of its beauty before the blooming of the laurel, and heralds the still lovelier pageant which is even then in rapid course of preparation.

In the last century the name of Mayflower was given to the shrub by the Swedes in the neighborhood of Philadelphia. Peter Kalm, the pupil of Linnæus, after whom our laurel, Kalmia, is named, writes the following description of the shrub in his “Travels,” which were published in English in 1771, and which explain the origin of one of its titles: “Some of the Swedes and Dutch call them Pinxter-bloem (Whitsunday-flower) as they really are in bloom about Whitsuntide; and at a distance they have some similarity to the Honeysuckle or ‘Lonicera.’... Its flowers were now open and added a new ornament to the woods.... They sit in a circle round the stem’s extremity and have either a dark red or a lively red color; but by standing for some time the sun bleaches them, and at last they get to a whitish hue.... They have some smell, but I cannot say it is very pleasant. However, the beauty of the flower entitles them to a place in every flower-garden.” While our pink azalea could hardly be called “dark red” under any circumstances, it varies greatly in the color of its flowers.

The azalea is the national flower of Flanders.

——— ———
Rhododendron Rhodora. Heath Family.

A shrub from one to two feet high. Leaves.—Oblong, pale. Flowers.—Purplish-pink. Calyx.—Small. Corolla.—Two-lipped, almost without any tube. Stamens.—Ten, not protruding. Pistil.—One, not protruding.

A shrub from one to three feet high. Leaves.—Narrowly oblong, light green. Flowers.—Deep pink, in lateral clusters. Calyx.—Five-parted. Corolla.—Five-lobed, between wheel and bell-shaped, with stamens caught in its depressions as in the mountain laurel. Stamens.—Ten. Pistil.—One.

This low shrub grows abundantly with the mountain laurel, bearing smaller deep pink flowers at the same season, and narrower, paler leaves. It is said to be the most poisonous of the genus, and to be especially deadly to sheep, while deer are supposed to feed upon its leaves with impunity.

American Cranberry.
Vaccinium macrocarpon. Heath Family.

Stems.—Slender, trailing, one to four feet long. Leaves.—Oblong, obtuse. Flowers.—Pale pink, nodding. Calyx.—With short teeth. Corolla.—Four-parted. Stamens.—Eight or ten, protruding. Fruit.—A large, acid, red berry.

In the peat-bogs of our Northeastern States we may look in June for the pink nodding flowers, and in late summer for the large red berries of this well-known plant.

Adder’s Mouth.
Pogonia ophioglossoides. Orchis Family (p. 17).

Stem.—Six to nine inches high, from a fibrous root. Leaves.—An oval or lance-oblong one near the middle of the stem, and a smaller or bract-like one near the terminal flower, occasionally one or two others, with a flower in their axils. Flower.—Pale pink, sometimes white, sweet-scented, one inch long, lip bearded and fringed.

Mr. Baldwin maintains that there is no wild flower of as pure a pink as this unless it be the Sabbatia. Its color has also been described as a “peach-blossom red.” As already mentioned, the plant is found blossoming in bogs during the early summer in company with the Calopogons and sundews. Its violet-like fragrance greatly enhances its charm.

Stem.—Six inches to a foot high, sparingly branched above, leafy to the top. Leaves.—Oblong-linear. Flowers.—Growing in round or oblong heads which are somewhat clover-like in appearance, bright pink or almost red, occasionally paler. Calyx.—Of five sepals, three of which are small and often greenish, while the two inner ones are much larger and colored like the petals. Corolla.—Of three petals connected with each other, the lower one keel-shaped. Stamens.—Six or eight. Pistil.—One. (Flowers too difficult to be analyzed by the non-botanist.)

This pretty little plant abounds in moist and also sandy places, growing on mountain heights as well as in the salt meadows which skirt the sea. In late summer its bright flower-heads gleam vividly through the grasses, and from their form and color might almost be mistaken for pink clover. Occasionally they are comparatively pale and inconspicuous.

——— ———
Polygala polygama. Milkwort Family.

Stems.—Very leafy, six to nine inches high, with cleistogamous flowers on underground runners. Leaves.—Lance-shaped or oblong. Flowers.—Purple-pink, loosely clustered in a terminal raceme. Keel of Corolla.—Crested. Stamens.—Eight. Pistil.—One.

Like its more attractive sister, the fringed polygala, this little plant hides its most useful, albeit unattractive, blossoms in the ground, where they can fulfil their destiny of perpetuating the species without danger of molestation by thievish insects or any of the distractions incidental to a more worldly career. Exactly what purpose the little above-ground flowers, which appear so plentifully in sandy soil in July, are intended to serve, it is difficult to understand.

Fringed Polygala.
Polygala paucifolia. Milkwort Family.

Flowering stems.—Three or four inches high, from long, prostrate or underground shoots which also bear cleistogamous flowers. Leaves.—The lower, small and scale-like, scattered, the upper, ovate, and crowded at the summit. Flowers.—Purple-pink, rarely white, rather large. Keel of Corolla.—Conspicuously fringed and crested. Stamens.—Six. Pistil.—One.

“I must not forget to mention that delicate and lovely flower of May, the fringed polygala. You gather it when you go for the fragrant showy orchis—that is, if you are lucky enough to find it. It is rather a shy flower, and is not found in every wood. One day we went up and down through the woods looking for it—woods of mingled oak, chestnut, pine, and hemlock,—and were about giving it up when suddenly we came upon a gay company of them beside an old wood-road. It was as if a flock of small rose-purple butterflies had alighted there on the ground before us. The whole plant has a singularly fresh and tender aspect. Its foliage is of a slightly purple tinge and of very delicate texture. Not the least interesting feature about the plant is the concealed fertile flower which it bears on a subterranean stem, keeping, as it were, one flower for beauty and one for use.”

It seems unnecessary to tempt “odorous comparisons” by endeavoring to supplement the above description of Mr. Burroughs.

Moss Polygala.
Polygala cruciata. Milkwort Family.

Stems.—Three to ten inches high, almost winged at the angles, with spreading opposite leaves and branches. Leaves.—Linear, nearly all whorled in fours. Flowers.—Greenish or purplish-pink, growing in short, thick spikes which terminate the branches.

There is something very moss-like in the appearance of this little plant which blossoms in late summer. It is found near moist places and salt marshes along the coast, being very common in parts of New England.

Spreading Dogbane. Indian Hemp.
Apocynum androsæmifolium. Dogbane Family.

Stems.—Erect, branching, two or three feet high. Leaves.—Opposite, oval. Flowers.—Rose-color veined with deep pink, loosely clustered. Calyx.—Five-parted. Corolla.—Small, bell-shaped, five-cleft. Stamens.—Five, slightly adherent to the pistil. Pistil.—Two ovaries surmounted by a large, two-lobed stigma. Fruit.—Two long and slender pods.

The flowers of the dogbane, though small and inconspicuous are very beautiful if closely examined. The deep pink veining of the corolla suggests nectar, and the insect-visitor is not misled, for at its base are five nectar-bearing glands. The two long, slender seed-pods which result from a single blossom seem inappropriately large, often appearing while the plant is still in flower. Rafinesque states that from the stems may be obtained a thread similar to hemp which can be woven into cloth, from the pods, cotton, and from the blossoms, sugar. Its generic and one of its English titles arose from the belief, which formerly prevailed, that it was poisonous to dogs. The plant is constantly found growing in roadside thickets, with bright, pretty foliage, and blossoms that appear in early summer.

Hedge Bindweed.
Convolvulus Americanus. Convolvulus Family.

Stem.—Twining or trailing. Leaves.—Somewhat arrow-shaped. Flowers.—Pink. Calyx.—Of five sepals enclosed in two broad leafy bracts. Corolla.—Five-lobed, bell-shaped. Stamens.—Five. Pistil.—One, with two stigmas.

Many an unsightly heap of rubbish left by the roadside is hidden by the delicate pink bells of the hedge bindweed, which again will clamber over the thickets that line the streams and about the tumbled stone-wall that marks the limit of the pasture. The pretty flowers at once suggest the morning-glory, to which they are closely allied.

The common European bindweed, C. arvensis, has white or pinkish flowers, without bracts beneath the calyx, and a low procumbent or twining stem. It has taken possession of many of our old fields where it spreads extensively and proves troublesome to farmers.

Purple-flowering Raspberry.
Rubus odoratus. Rose Family.

Stem.—Shrubby, three to five feet high; branching, branches bristly and glandular. Leaves.—Three to five-lobed, the middle lobe prolonged. Flowers.—Purplish-pink, large and showy, two inches broad. Calyx.—Five-parted. Corolla.—Of five rounded petals. Stamens and Pistils.—Numerous. Fruit.—Reddish, resembling the garden raspberry.

This flower betrays its relationship to the wild rose, and might easily be mistaken for it, although a glance at the undivided leaves would at once correct such an error. The plant is a decorative one when covered with its showy blossoms, constantly arresting our attention along the wooded roadsides in June and July.

Pale Corydalis.
Corydalis glauca. Fumitory Family.

Stem.—Six inches to two feet high. Leaves.—Pale, divided into delicate leaflets. Flowers.—Pink and yellow, in loose clusters. Calyx.—Of two small, scale-like sepals. Corolla.—Pink, tipped with yellow; closed and flattened, of four petals, with a short spur at the base of the upper petal. Stamens.—Six, maturing before the pistil, thus avoiding self-fertilization. Pistil.—One.

From the rocky clefts in the summer woods springs the pale corydalis, its graceful foliage dim with a whitish bloom, and its delicate rosy, yellow-tipped flowers betraying by their odd flat corollas their kinship with the Dutchman’s breeches and squirrel corn of the early year, as well as with the bleeding hearts of the garden. Thoreau assigns them to the middle of May, and says they are “rarely met with,” which statement does not coincide with the experience of those who find the rocky woodlands each summer abundantly decorated with their fragile clusters.

The generic name, Corydalis, is the ancient Greek title for the crested lark, and said to refer to the crested seeds of this genus. The specific title, glauca, refers to the pallor of leaves and stem.

The golden corydalis, C. aurea, is found on rocky banks somewhat westward.

Common Milkweed.
Asclepias Cornuti. Milkweed Family.

Stem.—Tall, stout, downy, with a milky juice. Leaves.—Generally opposite or whorled, the upper sometimes scattered, large, oblong, pale, minutely downy underneath. Flowers.—Dull, purplish-pink, clustered at the summit and along the sides of the stem. (These flowers are too difficult to be successfully analyzed by the non-botanist.) Calyx.—Five-parted, the divisions small and reflexed. Corolla.—Deeply five-parted, the divisions reflexed; above them a crown of five hooded nectaries, each containing an incurved horn. Stamens.—Five, inserted on the base of the corolla, united with each other and enclosing the pistils. Pistils.—Properly two, enclosed by the stamens, surmounted by a large five-angled disk. Fruit.—Two pods, one of which is large and full of silky-tufted seeds, the other often stunted.

This is probably the commonest representative of this striking and beautiful native family. The tall, stout stems, large, pale leaves, dull pink clustered flowers which appear in July, and later the puffy pods filled with the silky-tufted seeds beloved of imaginative children, are familiar to nearly everyone who spends a portion of the year in the country. The young sprouts are said to make an excellent pot-herb; the silky hairs of the seed-pods have been used for the stuffing of pillows and mattresses, and can be mixed with flax or wool and woven to advantage; while paper has been manufactured from the stout stalks.

The four-leaved milkweed, A. quadrifolia, is the most delicate member of the family, with fragrant rose-tinged flowers which appear on the dry wooded hill-sides quite early in June, and slender stems which are usually leafless below, and with one or two whorls and one or two pairs of oval, taper-pointed leaves above.

The swamp milkweed, A. incarnata, grows commonly in moist places. Its very leafy stems are two or three feet high, with narrowly oblong, pointed leaves. Its intense purple-pink flowers gleam from the wet meadows nearly all summer. They are smaller than those of the purple milkweed, A. purpurascens, which abounds in dry ground, and which may be classed among the deep pink or purple flowers according to the eye of the beholder.

Herb Robert.
Geranium Robertianum. Geranium Family.

Stem.—Forking, slightly hairy. Leaves.—Three, divided, the divisions again dissected. Flowers.—Purple-pink, small. Calyx.—Of five sepals. Corolla.—Of five petals. Stamens.—Ten. Pistil.—One, with five styles which split apart in fruit.

From June until October many of our shaded woods and glens are abundantly decorated by the bright blossoms of the herb Robert. The reddish stalks of the plant have won it the name of “red-shanks” in the Scotch Highlands. Its strong scent is caused by a resinous secretion which exists in several of the geraniums. In some species this resin is so abundant that the stems will burn like torches, yielding a powerful and pleasant perfume. The common name is said to have been given the plant on account of its supposed virtue in a disease which was known as “Robert’s plague,” after Robert, Duke of Normandy. In some of the early writers it is alluded to as the “holy herb of Robert.”

In fruit the styles of this plant split apart with an elasticity which serves to project the seeds to a distance, it is said, of twenty-five feet.

Bush Clover.
Lespedeza procumbens. Pulse Family (p. 16).

Stems.—Slender, trailing, and prostrate. Leaves.—Divided into three clover-like leaflets. Flowers.—Papilionaceous, purplish-pink, veiny. Pod.—Small, rounded, flat, one-seeded.

The flowers of this plant often have the appearance of springing directly from the earth amid a mass of clover leaves. They are common in dry soil in the late summer and autumn, as are the other members of the same genus.

L. reticulata is an erect, very leafy species with similar blossoms, which are chiefly clustered near the upper part of the stem. The bush clovers betray at once their kinship with the tick-trefoils, but are usually found in more sandy, open places.

L. polystachya has upright wand-like stems from two to four feet high. Its flowers grow in oblong spikes on elongated stalks. Those of L. capitata are clustered in globular heads.

Tick-trefoil.
Desmodium Canadense. Pulse Family (p. 16).

Stem.—Hairy, three to six feet high. Leaves.—Divided into three somewhat oblong leaflets. Flowers.—Papilionaceous, dull purplish-pink, growing in densely flowered racemes. Pod.—Flat, deeply lobed on the lower margin, from one to three inches long, roughened with minute hooked hairs by means of which they adhere to animals and clothing.

Great masses of color are made by these flowers in the bogs and rich woods of midsummer. They are effective when seen in the distance, but rather disappointing on closer examination, and will hardly bear gathering or transportation. They are by far the largest and most showy of the genus.