The original article appeared in the Winter edition 1983 of Iowa Woman, Valerie Staats, editor and general manager. Patty Crawford was the artist who drew pen and ink drawings of wildflowers i in winter. Reformatted here for the blog.
Winter stripped, clean and hard. Where to go?
What to do?
The dominant perspectives of winter after a snow are tactile, visual, and auditory. As I trudge through the deep snow, bundled against the assault of arctic air, our watering eyes behold a glittering, translucent world. Even an ear dulled by too many days inside can attune to the frozen music of ice tinkling on ice, scouring rush squeaking against itself, and the gentle rustling of stiff prairie grasses and rigid pods.
A winter day day can inspire a sense of awe and respect for the flora that survive our most severe Mid-western season. Soft hues reveal startling color against the monotonously opaque sky and land: diminutive, golden aster bracts; fuzzy, cream goldenrod plumes; pitted, gunmetal grey cornflower seed heads; and feathery mauve little bluestem.
The strength and fragility of nature is clearly seen in sturdy cattail marshes and delicate, tumbling panicles of magenta sand love grass.
By February in the snowbound depths of a north slope bog, the broad, verdant leaves of skunk cabbage unfold by their own heat, emitting an unmistakable odor. For many, our Midwestern prairies and wetlands are a dim memory, replaced by the realities of corn, soy and wheat stubble. Following are vignettes of the prairie wildflowers and grasses from a winter perspective.
Just about everyone knows the common cattail that blooms May, June and July in lakes, swamps and ditches. Its delightful appellations include cat-o-nine-tails, marsh beetle, water torch, candlewick, great reed mace, blackamoor. Often used for food, the cattail has been eaten raw and cooked, used as a flour, consumed like corn on the cob, and even served as a medicine to ease the pain of burns.
Popularly known as Queen Anne’s Lace this wild carrot, ancestor of our table carrot, grows abundantly along roadsides. Imported from Europe, it is now firmly established throughout most of the United States. The roots of the wild and cultivated carrots are similar. The fragile white, sometimes pink, blossoms grow atop stems two to three feet tall. The older flowers curl into a dry “bird’s nest” cluster.
The dozens of varieties of Goldenrod grow in open woods, along roadside and fences, and in pastures. The Latin name Solidago means “to unite”, an acknowledgement of the healing powers formerly attributed to the plant. Over one hundred different insects pollinate goldenrod. More important to remember is that it does not contribute to high allergenic pollen counts in late summer. The innocuous rag weed is the culprit.
Blazing Star, or Gayfeather, has a rich purple spike of tufted flowers often used in cultivated arrangements. Underground tubers send up three foot stalks. More than fifteen species hybridize so frequently that botanists sometimes cannot tell them apart.
Purple coneflower, a member of the daisy family, has a distinctive blossom. On the purple pale variety, the petals, or rays, hang backwards. The long tapered leaves have rough “teeth”. This prairie plant blooms into October.
Giant Blue Stem once covered the virgin prairies and waved in seven foot stands. This blue-tinged beauty sends roots deep into the earth holding down soil, sequestering moisture and as it decayed each spring added to the rich soil of Iowa.
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