Winter Cress or Yellow Rocket, Barbarea vulgaris, in bloom at the end of Jane Street. (photo taken 05 18 2012)

The Brassicaceae, the mustards, are certainly one of the most successful immigrant wildflower families to have arrived and settled in the Americas. My study of these herbaceous plants has allowed me to more fully comprehend the point of Jesus Christ’s parable – the mustard seed equals ubiquity.

The first species I noticed residing in the West Village was Shepherd’s Purse with its gracefully-postured racemes and distinctive heart-shaped seed pods. The flowers of the biennial Garlic Mustard caught my attention for the first time last season. Most recently, as early as February, I found Hairy Bittercress, which turns out to be one of the first wildflowers to bloom in springtime New York.

The weather this spring season has been a bit out of sorts. April’s dry warm days have been replaced by May’s cool showers. This flip-flop of the traditional weather pattern has resulted in lush conditions. Some mornings, when I look out into the courtyard garden, the scene full of roses, azaleas, and hydrangeas fits the look of, if not the accepted definition of, a temperate rain forest.

The sheer amount, the sheer vigor, of the city’s blooming plant life has been impressive. I hoped to find a new species within all that green and pastel color, perhaps one somehow overlooked in the first two years of my West Village wildflower search. And I did; a new face appeared to my eye amongst the yellow wood sorrel, sow thistle, and dandelion set in a deep green bed of mugwort:

Winter Cress, Barbarea vulgaris

The showy racemes of this pretty plant are what give its presence away. The funny thing is I had seen it, a lot of it, before; I just didn’t know it. During trout season drives to and from fishing destinations, I had noticed numerous patches of yellow color along the roadsides. What I was seeing was not so much individual blooms like dandelions, daises, or thistles, but something akin to a golden mist or haze just above the grassline. I didn’t have an opportunity to stop for a close look, so I stored away my observations for future reference.

And then, this week, during a rare sunny day, I approached on foot the parklet located at the end of Jane and Horatio Streets on the western edge of Manhattan. What I saw, in scattered places, was similar to the yellow clouds I had seen along the roads in rural Pennsylvania and New York state. Compact rounded clusters that resembled a burst of fireworks frozen in mid-air. When I began my quest for a positive identification, I held that image in mind, which made me smile doubly wide when amongst my references I stumbled upon Winter Cress; its colloquial name is Yellow Rocket.

Rooted to the ground, Winter Cress has pinnately-divided, deeply-lobed basal leaves that if picked before the plant blooms make a reasonable, seasonable green. The stems are glabrous and support thin silique like other members of its species. Unlike the other Eurasian mustards I have found growing in the West Village, Winter Cress does not bloom white. The individual flowers are tiny, have four deep yellow petals, which are clustered in a half dozen or so terminal racemes that are tighter and rounder than other mustards, giving this biennial a bushier profile that conveys the shape of fireworks descending to earth.

An individual Yellow Rocket raceme reveals the bloom consists of multiple tiny flowers. Each one has four petals. (photo taken 05 23 2012)

– rPs 05 23 2012

Full Color: Jefferson Market Garden is in bloom in time for NYC Wildflower Week. (photo taken 05 12 2012)

NYC Wildflower Week celebrates its 5th anniversary this year. There will be over thirty free events on offer, open to the public, and spread across all five boroughs of the city. Related nature study, including regional animal species, will be on the program as well. A full listing of events can be found by following this link:

http://www.nycwildflowerweek.org/events.htm

New York City possesses 53,000 acres of open space and 778 native plant species (plus numerous flowering immigrants, many of which are featured here at WWV), so take some time to explore the urban outdoors and enjoy May’s wildflowers.

You never know where a city wildflower may grow: Water Parsnip (Sium suave) blooms beside a tree between 8th and 9th Avenues. (photo taken 05 12 2012)

– rPs 05 12 2012

The side courtyard of The First Presbyterian Church in New York City on 5th Avenue glows green during the first rainfall in weeks. (photo taken 04 22 2012)

Earth Day 42 can be called the day the rains came. At last! New York is reported to be nearly nine inches short of the average amount of precipitation expected for the region. Bluebird skies and dry, windy days have filled the winter and spring of 2012. Low water levels have brought up drought concerns on the news and on angling message boards. And then near midday on Earth Day, a nor’easter arrived, giving the city its first drink in several weeks.

This has been the first Earth Day in quite some time in which I was not out and about in nature, either fishing, cycling, or simply exploring. The rain kept me indoors except for a quick walk with my wife to Union Square where we dropped off recyclable items like batteries; a chore that, in hindsight, fit the theme of the day.

The green lining to the gray rain has been the quick invigoration of the trees and gardens throughout the city. While conscientious people around the globe celebrate the ecosphere of the earth, the planet itself, at least over this one populated corner, has returned the favor with its greatest gift: life-giving rain.

Happy Earth Day!

– rPs 04 22 2012

Hairy Bittercress, Cardamine hirsuta. (photo taken 02 11 2012)

Wildflowers of the West Village celebrated its second anniversary on March 22nd. What pleases me most at this point in my urban nature study is that despite the circumscribed area in which I explore, I am still finding new species of wildflowers to observe in situ and describe in words.

One such plant I first discovered in bloom as early as February. This was in part not so surprising because of the mild weather the New York region experienced this past winter. I found several examples clinging to a few sheltered corners of the damp lawn on Pier 45.

This plant intrigued me. Its form reflected the kind of low profile and delicate beauty one associates with the kind of wildflowers found in tundra environments. Considering the time of year and the cold, spongy quality of the grass on the Hudson River piers, the comparison was understandable.

Once March arrived and the days turned steadily from cool to almost warm, I began to see examples of the mystery wildflower hugging the edges of park lawns and empty lots all around the area. The plant resembled a composite of several species with which I was already familiar. The flowers, like Shepherd’s Purse, were arranged in a tight cluster supported by a central stem that ranged from green to purple; each bloom had four tiny white petals. The flower heads were surrounding by thin upright silique like Garlic Mustard. The leaves were basal, compound, odd pinnate, each leaflet being roughly ovate like the Watercress sold as a salad green at neighborhood farmer’s markets.

The flowers of Hairy Bittercress resemble those of Shepherd's Purse. (photo taken 03 13 2012)

The silique of Hairy Bittercress resemble those of Garlic Mustard. (photo taken 03 13 2012)

My first assumption was I had spotted some hardy, early-season variety of Shepherd’s Purse. But with the advent of warmer weather I began to see the plant forming large blooming colonies wherever it was established. The flowers and the silique were clear characteristics of the Brassicaceae, the mustard family, so I concentrated my identification efforts within that fold. Ironically, the physical feature that proved to be the key one was the leaf and its resemblance to the cultivated Watercress, which, as I learned over the course of my investigation, is also an introduced member of the Brassicaceae. The “cress” part of the name pointed me directly to a positive identification:

Hairy Bittercress, Cardamine hirsuta

This annual species, like other wild mustard immigrants from Europe, is as edible as it is invasive. The flavor has a spicy, slightly pungent bitterness, thus the popular name. With the Pesach festival, the Passover holiday, being celebrated during this period, I find it ironic that the subject of my recent investigation turned out to be one qualified to fill the role of the maror – a bitter herb –  a central element of the traditional Seder plate.

Invasive, perhaps, but edible, too! (photo taken 03 13 2012)

– rPs 04 11 2012

(photo taken 03 16 2012)

I discovered a pot of wildflower gold on the eve of St. Patrick’s Day. Surrounding the base of a tree beside the bike path along the West Side Highway, I found an Irish spring mix of Red Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum), white Hairy Bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta), and blue Siberian Squill (Scilla siberica), blooming together.

The trees are bare, though budding; the ground is spongy, beginning to turn verdant. In this environment, the diminutive wildflowers of the early season are a refreshing sign of life renewing on the cusp of spring.

Breathe deeply . . .

(photo taken 03 16 2012)

– rPs 03 17 2012

Before:

(photo taken 03 09 2012)

After:

(photo taken 03 09 2012)

A sure sign of the urban spring has begun. The High Line started its annual spring cutback project. The winter song of the wind sounding through the park’s high grasses has been replaced by staff and volunteers pruning back shrubs and perennials for the new spring growing season.

Clusters of blooming Crocus vernus, now in full color, have been exposed in between the trimmed plants. The purple and white bouquets, spread randomly amongst the tans and browns of stems and trunks, can provide a lot of new still life opportunities for photographers.

As this cutback proceeds, the High Line announced its planned third expansion along the Rail Yards. This stretch around 30th Street and 10th Avenue would run east and west along a major real estate redevelopment leading to the Hudson River. The shift in orientation and new features such as a children’s area promise both challenges and rewards. A community input meeting held on Monday, March 12, in the Chelsea neighborhood took a solid first step in getting the final design right.

As for the cutback, the project plans to continue over the next month or so. Interested volunteers can visit the High Line’s “News” section for more information:

http://www.thehighline.org/news

The sign says it all:

(photo taken 03 09 2012)

– rPs 03 13 2012

I thought I would take advantage of Leap Day 2012 to squeeze in one more post for the month of February. The past four weeks have remained damp and cool, rather than cold, making the green spaces of the West Village resemble tundra. The park grass is spongy, close cropped, yet green, and along the edges a variety of hardy wildflower species can be found, low to the ground, in bloom . . .

Common Chickweed (Stellaria media)

(photo taken 02 12 2012)

Red Deadnettle (Lamium purpureum)

(photo taken 02 19 2012)

Hairy Bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta)

(photo taken 02 12 2012)

Groundsel (Senecio vulgaris)

(photo taken 02 12 2012)

Feral Croci (Crocus vernus)

(photo taken 02 12 2012)

And, in my own courtyard, a few Common Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis)

(photo taken 02 23 2012)

– rPs 02 29 2012

Common Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) push up through the leaf litter at the Jefferson Market Garden. (photo taken 02 06 2012)

The New York region’s weather has resembled the middle of March for all but a few days of this 2011-2012 winter season. One of the effects of modest precipitation combined with moderate temperatures has been an odd kind of eternal spring.

I took a lunch hour stroll through the West Village on Monday, February 6, in part to enjoy the light and air of this gentle weather. Days like this allow me to contemplate one of my favorite outdoor aesthetic combinations: the weathered grays and tans of bare trees backlit by a silver sun, blue sky, and white clouds. Such views, like the air itself, are the cleanest of the year. The quiet beauty can purify the eyes in a city overloaded with coded manmade imagery.

During my walk, I sighted the first blooming wildflower of 2012 growing along the edge of the Jefferson Market Garden near the corner of Greenwich Avenue and the Avenue of the Americas. The species: Common Snowdrop, Galanthus nivalis, which I described last year . . .

“This pretty little flower is an herbaceous perennial member of the family Amaryllidaceae. A naturalized immigrant from Europe, the Common Snowdrop sprouts from a bulb that sends forth two deep green lanceolate leaves and a thin scape that holds a single lobed flower on a pedicel. An individual bloom hanging from its scape very much resembles an antique lamppost supporting a white glass light fixture.”

The beauty of this bloom springs eternal. The difference, this year, is the remarkable earliness of its emergence: nearly a month sooner than last year. Good timing! The flowers can serve as a symbolic sign of celebration for the NY Giants winning Super Bowl XLVI.

Meanwhile, will this mild winter correspond to an equally mild summer? Let’s see . . . Let’s hope!

Common Snowdrops sing early during this 2012 "spring eternal" . . . (photo taken 02 06 2012)

– rPs 02 07 2012

Postscript: The Jefferson Market Garden stands out as one of the West Village’s most distinctive green spaces. Visit their website by following this link: http://jeffersonmarketgarden.org/

Symmetrical branches of Smooth Sumac, Rhus glabra, reach up toward a gray January sky along the High Line. (photo taken 01 13 2012)

A gray windy day in January is one of the few times one can find solitude on the High Line. During a walk there this week, I found time to watch and to listen to this outdoor space on its own, without the hum and hover of humanity.

I perceived that there must be as many varieties of brown in January as there are green in June. The wind sounding through the dry stalks and branches contained as many subtle tones as the murmur of multiple conversations. What stood out the most to me was found in the basic forms of the plants. The skeleton, the architecture, of a flower, shrub, or tree is delineated at this time of year. One of the most impressive examples of such naked form can be seen in the Smooth Sumac, Rhus glabra.

A native shrub family, Anacardiaceae, found throughout the eastern United States, the sumacs are known more for their summer and autumn dress: the feathery, serrated, compound leaves that turn crimson in October. The Smooth Sumac commonly forms colonies from its root system, often along roads and railways, making its appearance on the High Line both appropriate as well as aesthetically pleasing.

The Smooth Sumac is also one of the most distinctive flowering trees. The large upright panicles are the color of rich Chianti. These clusters of drupes (seeded fruits) are edible, and can be picked and soaked in cool water to make a refreshing sumac-ade. One recipe for “Wild Smooth Sumac-ade” was described by the Staten Island nature writer Ava Chin in her “Urban Forager” column for The New York Times.

The dense, upright panicles of Smooth Sumac can last throughout the winter. (photo taken 01 13 2012)

A group of panicles silhouetted against the leaden sky caught my eye, gave me inspiration and a subject for a winter wildflower. I paused in the wind, which was making whitecaps on the steel-colored Hudson in the background, and there I contemplated the forms of the Smooth Sumac branches. I was delighted by the symmetry of the tips, which spread like the pointed fingers of an open hand. I noticed also that the branches did not just spread opposite and parallel, like arms and hands. The fingered projections themselves were twisted and bent in the exact same manner as well.

The Classical orders of architecture, the Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian being basic examples, were derived by the Greeks and Romans from organic forms. The Smooth Sumac, in winter, reminded me that humanity with its mathematics does not possess a monopoly on graceful, even symmetrical, functional form.

Fodder for natural philosophical thought as the annual and perennial wildflowers hibernate.

"Hand" over the High Line. (photo taken 01 13 2012)

— rPs 01 13 2012

Postscript: Ava Chin’s recipe for “Wild Smooth Sumac-ade” can be found by following this link:

http://cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/09/04/urban-forager-shrubbery-you-can-drink/

Groundsel, Senecio vulgaris, blooms in the West Village on the Winter Solstice and, though wild, often grows in evenly-spaced patterns as if planted by a gardener. (Photo taken 12 22 2011)

“Mild.”

The 2011 Winter Solstice arrived like a lamb, to put it mildly. Manhattan enjoyed one of those calm, cool, balmy days that cultivate the impression of an indeterminate time of year; a kind of day that almost shouts for one to take the opportunity – the gift – to enjoy the outdoors before the traditional weather sets in, or roars in, for the season.

I listened to that call.

Outside and above, the sky resembled a portrait painting of multiple cloud types, including cirrus and cumulus, floating by at different levels of altitude, passing by at different rates of speed, forming a variety of picturesque motion patterns that took the sun in an exceptionally sparkling way during this shortest daytime of the calendar year.

Back on the surface, a short walk around the West Village revealed nature was still in an active phase. Gulls, mallard ducks, cormorants, brants, and Canada geese mingled along the Hudson River where several anglers squeezed in one last session of casting for striped bass.

Back on city land, many of the common wildflower species remained unfazed by last week’s first frost of the season. The basal rosettes of Sow Thistle, Dandelion, and Common Plantain were fresh and green, not deflated and gray as they were by this time last year. White Snakeroot, Common Chickweed, and Shepherd’s Purse remained in bloom in several sheltered spots.

Shepherd's Purse blooms beside a tree on a December day. (Photo taken 12 22 2011)

None of these plants could match the vigor and numbers of the winter annual Groundsel, Senecio vulgaris, a diminutive member of the Asteracaeae family. Just as the Dandelion will carpet lawns in spring, the Groundsel can proliferate in late fall. Find it thriving around the bases of trees and within the thinned out spaces of bare shrubs. Individual plants resemble a tiny evergreen bush and look so self contained as to appear planted by a gardener. The yellow inflorescences of this cosmopolitan ruderal never seem to open into full golden blooms like its springtime cousin, but it does go to seed in distinctive white balls that in combination with its sharply-lobed leaves look rather festive in light of the season.

Holiday Ornaments: Groundsel goes to fluffy seed like its other cousins in the Asteraceae family. (Photo taken 12 22 2011)

Happy Holidays . . .

– rPs 12 22 2011