Archive for Wildflowers: Green

February’s Foliage

February’s Foliage . . .

Onion Grass (genus Allium) provides a small splash of color near Eighth Avenue. (photo taken 02 26 2013)

Onion Grass (genus Allium) provides a small splash of color near Eighth Avenue. (photo taken 02 26 2013)

The second month of the year has taken the “cold” portion of the phrase “long, cold winter” to an extreme: snow, some; wind, more; and cold, constant. This state of the air has locked the West Village and the rest of the region in hibernation. White, grey, and brown remain the dominant colors found in the parks and gardens of New York.

Absent this year are the blooming snowdrops and common chickweed often found in abundance along the mid-Atlantic during the latter half of the winter season. The only wild plant that has weathered the weather appears to be Onion Grass (genus Allium), which, as I reported way back in 2010, remains ensconced along the cobbled walls of Reggie Fitzgerald Triangle at the intersection of West Fourth and Eighth Avenues. The sight of this great piece of green sustains the fundamentally optimistic nature of my urban naturalist’s mood. I realize that the time and temperatures for the spring bloom should arrive by the end of March.

– rPs 02 27 2013

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An April Shower’s Wildflowers

An April Shower’s Wildflowers . . .

A view of Prospect Park Lake in Brooklyn captures the cold colors of early April. (photo taken 04 10 2011)

 

The transition from winter to spring really does resemble the way a rainbow emerges from a storm. First, there is the monochromatic gray sky, opening up with wind and water until it begins to thin out. A hint of pale blue emerges, followed by the electrum sun and the full spectrum of visible light manifested by the prism of that same rainfall, now receding.

April 2011 followed this manner of blooming, at least in New York City. A season opening fly fishing trip to Prospect Park Lake in Brooklyn was accompanied by the somber colors of early spring. The lake itself was charcoal grey and surrounded by the tan stalks of last year’s cattails and the brown mesh of tree branches just beginning to bud. A week of cold rain followed. The spring season appeared to be as late as the Passover and Easter holidays.

When Easter Sunday did arrive, it turned into the first balmy warm day of the year. The humidity appeared in an instant, bumblebees filled the air, robins and purple finches trilled in the trees, which like the grounds all around town had gone a bright pastel green. The wildflowers, too, had arrived, including . . .

Chickweed (Stellaria media)

Chickweed (Stellaria media)

 

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale)

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale)

 

Ground Ivy (Glechoma  hederacea)

Ground Ivy (Glechoma hederacea)

 

Heartsease (Viola tricolor)

Heartsease (Viola tricolor)

 

Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris)

Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris)

 

Red Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum)

Red Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum)

 

Shepherd’s Purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris)

Shepherd’s Purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris)

 

Siberian Squill (Scilla siberica)

Siberian Squill (Scilla siberica)

 

Wild Violet (Viola papilionacea)

Wild Violet (Viola papilionacea)

 

The first act of Manhattan’s spring blooming is complete. The stage is now set for May’s flowers.

–  rPs 04 29 2011

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City Spinach

City Spinach . . .

Lamb's Quarters (Chenopodium album) greens a tree pit along West 12th Street. (photo taken 05 20 2010)

An evening stroll has long been a healthy habit of mine. Now married, I am happy to know my wife enjoys a constitutional after dinner as well, so most evenings find us wandering together around some part of the West Village.

When August arrived, we decided to diverge from the peace and relative solitude of the neighborhood’s residential garden blocks in order to peruse the beginnings of the fall fashion season that were starting to be showcased along Bleecker Street. Then and there began my latest investigation of a West Village wildflower.

I was born in August and have always enjoyed this month more than most. The earliest hints of a new autumn season can be perceived. Change, transition, and opportunity emerge as themes. Darkness falls a bit earlier, football talk begins to share air time with the summer pastime of baseball, back-to-school circulars arrive in the mail, and a Dog Days dry season takes hold, which browns the public park grass before the fresh infusion of reinvigorating dampness arrives with the Equinox. The steady heat hangs on as well, although knitted wool earth tones and tweeds start to appear in clothing shop display windows. Such materials blend well with the growing anticipation of the impending harvest season. I have always loved this mix of the urban and the provincial; a kind a rustic sophistication that blends the clear design lines of the city with the textures and colors of the country.

With this background simmering in my mind, and the two of us talking and walking through the humid heat, we passed a restaurant named AUGUST, located at 359 Bleecker Street. I of course had to pause and investigate. The menu we found was European and regional, with an emphasis on the locally grown. As I read down the offerings, brook trout jumped out, as it is a favorite fish of mine, me being an avid fly fisher:

Crepinette of Brook Trout
Lambs quarters, grapes, chickpeas, taramasalata

And therein began my latest wildflower study: Lambs Quarters – one of the most common wild plants of the West Village – on the menu in the West Village.

This dish and more can be viewed at the AUGUST website:

http://augustny.com/

I have previously investigated and profiled several edible wild flowering plants, yet I do not consider myself New York City’s leading authority on the subject. My recommendation for those interested in the region’s palatable plants should become acquainted with the writings of Ava Chin, who has been investigating the city’s edible wild flora for some time in her Urban Forager column for The New York Times. She has written eloquently on this plant and many others, essays which are archived on her own website:

http://www.avachin.com/

And her specific piece on Lamb’s Quarters can be read here:

http://fort-greene.thelocal.nytimes.com/2009/06/10/urban-forager-sheepish-about-lambsquarters/

Lambs Quarters could just as easily be called “City Spinach” – The leaves are high in iron and cook quickly in a variety of ways like its cultivated counterpart. The main difference between the two is that one is found in gardens and on farms while the other, at least here in America, is most often found sprouting from cracks in the curb.

Chenopodium album is an annual European immigrant known in less flattering terms as Goosefoot or Pigweed. Lamb’s Quarter’s is a member of the Goosefoot tribe, so the former is somewhat understandable.

The plant is very modest in appearance; its form and overall coloration are more distinctive than its flower. The leaves are shaped like rounded diamonds and reflect gray and bluish tones that resemble cruciferous vegetables like the broccoli and Brussels sprout. Like other members of the family Amaranthaceae, the flowers share the same coloration as the rest of the plant, are individually tiny, and grouped on upright inflorescences that resemble another neighborhood wildflower: the prettier and pink Lady’s Thumb.

Lamb's Quarters in bloom along West 12th Street. (photo taken 06 23 2010)

Lamb’s Quarters is a popular ingredient in Indian cooking, providing the substance in Saag dishes and the stuffing in Paratha breads. Occidental cooking prepares the leaves and stems in the same way as spinach. Whether you prefer a sautéed side dish to your brook trout prepared in a French provincial manner, or simply a nutritious steamed green, this city spinach can sate the appetite of any urban Popeye.

– rPs 08 13 2010

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Ode to Onion Grass

 

Ode to Onion Grass . . .

Onion grass (genus Allium) grows along the stone wall of Reggie Fitzgerald Triangle near the corner of Horatio Street and Eighth Avenue. (photo taken March 27, 2010)

 

 

Tufts of a deeper green

Claim the slumbering brown

Where new grass has not yet grown.

Spreading, sporadic and nomadic,

Over several seasons;

Flowers not, yet blooming,

The body itself a blossom

Beside trees, before walls,

Despite groundskeepers’ calls to arms

Against this perennial opponent.

 

Traditionally, family lily:

Bulbs, pale and rooted;

Shoots, almost evergreen;

Sprout into sight at the start

Of Spring’s annual work of Art;

Create great pieces of turf,

As Albrecht Durer saw it;

Draw a still life upon every lawn.

 

Kneeling down, taste takes over.

Savor the favor of their flavor

In hand, in soup, in stew.

Grazing as children, we knew

Those tangy and spicy moments,

Sinuses filled, now with memory

Of wild garlic, of chives,

Of onion grass.

Onion grass growing in Hudson River Park during the spring of 2010 resembles Albrecht Durer's watercolor "The Great Piece of Turf" painted in 1503. (photo taken April 1, 2010)

 

One of the first hints of spring’s return, onion grass is a perennial harbinger of the new growing season. The plant’s thin, fleshy, almost everygreen leaves punctuate lawns and rejuvenate waste places before grass and other garden greenery grows into full gear.

Onion grass is an immigrant from Europe; a member of the genus Allium, more commonly known as the onions. This group of root vegetables was first cultivated by the Bronze Age Egyptians and became a staple of the Greek and Roman diet, especially amongst the gladiators and other althletes of Antiquity. Later, the Roman became the Italian, but the onion remained on the regional menu. One Italian of note, Christopher Columbus, was the first to introduce the vegetable to North America. Other varieties followed. Some were cultivated, some were domesticated and went feral, a few simply invaded and somehow took root.

Onion grass is a general folk name, culled from the appearance and olfactory qualities, which has been applied like a quilt over a loose group of wild plants. There is an actual invasive species called onion grass (Romulea rosia), which is ironically the one member not found within the genus Allium. The others, such as chives (Allium schoenoprasum) and crow garlic (Allium vineale), are true onions; a mix of natives and immigrants. The connection linking all of these plants can be traced higher up the scientific classification ladder at the rung of Order, Asparagales.

The West Village, not known for its wide lawns and devoid of vacant green lots, still hosts a few scattered colonies of onion grass. Specimens have been spotted growing along the walls of Reggie Fitzgerald Triangle, the gardens of the Church of St. Luke in the Fields, and Hudson River Park. In each case the plants have blended into the landscape as well as any other ornamental.

All of the onion grass species appear similar at a casual glance — clumps of sturdy, dark green blades not unlike crab grass. The senses of touch and smell provide more nuance. The rubbery texture and pungent aroma is quickly perceived when such a plant is rubbed or picked. Differentiating the various members by sight alone early in the season takes time and practice. The easiest method is to wait until the plants flower. Unfortunately, most private and public park lawns are mowed far too often for this natural fruition to occur.

– rPs 04 09 2010

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