A New England October

Proceeding from north to south, the first frosts 

       

 

 

 

New England is famous for its fall colors. Under some circumstances, though, those colors include brilliant flowers. On a family vacation, I was in the southern part of the region at the beginning of the transition. Garden flowers, including brilliant displays of Dahlias, Chrysanthemums, and others were in their final glory of the season, but a mild frost had already triggered some trees to retire their chlorophyll for the winter, leaving their red and yellow secondary pigments. In the middle of our week there, a harder freeze in the Berkshires convinced most garden flowers to give up the ghost, but a bit further south, in the Hartford area, they persisted. 

I suppose at this time, it was already over in the far north of Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire, but it  wouldn't be long before the glow of orange and red would sweep through the south, gardeners would dig up the Dahlia tubers, and perhaps plant a new crop of tulip and other spring bulbs.

There are a few late season wild flowers too. Goldenrod and Asters, both members of the Asteraceae are the most abundant Fall wildflowers. In this family, seeds mature rapidly, and so the plants can remain active late in the season.

Below are some scenes from this sojourn.

The New England Aster, 
Symphotrichium novae-angliae.

The common Goldenrod, Artemesia 
nemoralis.

Dahlias were at their peak at the Elizabeth Park
in West Hartford.

 

Chrysanthemums are an emblematic garden
flower in the Fall.

Bright Celosias are in denial about the coming
winter.

Roses will continue to bloom until forced to 
stop by cold weather.

Nasturtiums are trailing annuals, and
going strong in mid-October.

Known as Autumn Crocus, these
Colchicum autumnalis blossoms surprise
us with spring-like blooms.

A tall Cleome plant in West Hartford.

Clematis terniflora covers a wall in Lenox, Mass.

Zinnias are 3-4 feet tall in October.

Starship deep rose Lobelia.

Monkshood, Aconitum, flourishes in
the Fall.

Music Inspired by Flowers

 In my alternate universe as classical music fan, I have completed a blog series about overlooked, underrated, and unranked composers (The Amadeus Principle). What better way to transition to that topic than a look at classical music inspired by flowers!

Roses for sale in a flower market. 
By Jebulon  CC BY-SA 3.0

Perhaps the most celebrated and loved flower of all time is the rose. Cultivated in both Egypt and China, possibly 5000 years ago, it has been valued for both its color and fragrance. The familiar multi-petaled cultivars arose somewhere along the way from wild ancestors that had just five petals. 

Rosa rubiginosa, a wild rose from
Asia; one of the ancestors of
cultivated roses. Photo by 
Stan Shebs,  CC BY-SA 3.0

In Western Europe, numerous composers took inspiration from roses in their music, including:

    

(click on the links to listen)

Robert Schumann, The Rose, The Lily, The Dove, The Sun  (1840) 

Johann Strauss II, "Rosesof the South" (1880) 

Gabriel Fauré, "Les Roses d'Ispahan" (1884)  

Peter Tchaikovsky, ‘Rose’ Adagio (Sleeping Beauty) (1889) 

Richard Strauss: 'The Presentation of the Rose' from Der Rosenkavalier (1910) 

Herbert Howells, A Spotless Rose  (1919)

 

A botanical illustration of the red
field poppy, Papaver rhoeas, by
Franz Eugen Köhler

Another favorite, particularly among Russian composers, is the wild red poppy found throughout Asia:  

Reinhold Gliere, The Red Poppy ballet (1927)

Aleksander Glazunov included cornflowers in his tribute,  Waltz Of The Cornflowers And Poppies, from the ballet, the Seasons(1899)

1.      

Cornflowers, Centaurea cyanus. Photo by
Thayne Tuason CC BY-SA 4.0

The  blossoms of Heather, inspired a work by Debussy:

Heather, Calluna vulgaris. photo by Aqwis, CC BY-SA 3.0

 Claude Debussy, Bruyéres (Heather) (1912–13)

 

A chrysanthemum festival in Taiwan.

Years before he struck gold with his operas, Giacomo Puccini once found himself inspired by Chrysanthemums, the favorite flowers of Fall.

 

Puccini, Crisantemi (Chrysanthemums) (1890)

Amaryllis hybrid, technically in the genus
Hippeastrum

   Giulio Caccini found inspiration in an Amaryllis.

     Caccini, Amarilli Mia Bella (1601)

.      

 

A Dahlia cultivar.
Photo by Kinjal bose 78 CC BY-SA 4.0

Bedrich Smetana took a liking to Dahlias, which are in the same family as Chrysanthemums.

 

 Smetana, Dahlia Polka (1840)1

Jasminum polyanthum from southwestern China.

A popular traditional Chinese folk song celebrates fragrant Jasmine flowers. Puccini adapted it for his opera Turandot. Photo by Helen Online CC BY-SA 3.0

 

      Mo Li Hua (Jasmine Flower); and The Mountainsof the East (Puccini’s adaptation for Turandot, 1926)

 

 

  Rachmaninov – Lilacs (from 12 Romances) (1902)

 

Blossoms of the cotton plant, Gossypium herbacium,
are recognizable as belonging to the Hibiscus Family.
Photo by by H. Zell , CC BY-SA 3.0

Florence Price appeared to be celebrating the flowers of the cotton plant, or was it the opening the mature pods?

Price – Dance of the Cotton Blossoms (1938)

1.    

Edelweiss, Leontopodium nivale

Finally, who can forget Baron von Trapp's tribute to the alpine Edelweiss and his native country of Austria. Is Sound of Music classical music? The difference between classical opera and :Broadway" musicals is not as clear-cut. Both combine stage action and music to tell a story. See my chapter on "The Problem with Opera," for a more extensive discussion.

         Rodgers and Hammerstein, Edelweiss from The Sound Of Music (1959)

Iceland and Greenland

Iceland is nearly treeless, but reforestation with
conifers from other continents has begun.

As a subarctic island, Iceland has a limited flora, though displays of wildflowers can be spectacular
during its short summer. As a way station between North America and Greenland, on one hand, and Europe on the other hand, much of Iceland's flora is circumpolar. 

 Iceland's youth has provided little time for endemic species to arise, in contrast with the nearest continents on both sides of the Atlantic. Iceland was created by a series of volcanic eruptions, beginning some 16-18 million years ago, that continue to today. It sits over a hotspot on the mid-Atlantic ridge, and its volcanic activity has gradually shifted to the southwest. Before we arrived in June of 2024, a new eruption began south of the nation's capital, Reykjavik. It's a similar situation to the volcanic activity in the Hawaiian islands which has shifted to the southeast as its tectonic plate moves over a hotspot. Iceland, in fact, reminded me a lot of the island of Hawaii, albeit a lot colder.

Dandelions provide bright springtime
color in Iceland and are even avoided by
lawnmowers. 

In addition to its volcanic youthfulness, Iceland was also completely covered by glaciers during the recent ice age, leaving a scant 10,000 years to become revegetated. Virtually every plant species in its flora came from somewhere else. Even the handful of species officially listed as endemic are closely related to species from other continents. By contrast, the flora of Greenland, which sits on an ancient shield formation, is quite rich. A brief stop in Greenland after we left Iceland, yielded nearly a dozen species. 

Colonization by Vikings some 1200 years ago and their introduction of both herbivorous and predatory mammals further interrupted the natural evolution of the Icelandic flora. any sort of natural floral evolution. 

Much of the lowlands of Iceland were actually forested, but the Vikings' demand for wood for housing and boat-building resulted in virtually every tree being cut down. So the iconic images of treeless green vistas in Iceland is also an artifact of human interference.

Lupines mingle with dandelions for an early 
wildflower display. 

In mid-June, the beginning of summer in the northern hemisphere, wildflowers were just beginning to bloom in sheltered areas of Iceland. Aside from the ubiquitous dandelion, the most spectacular show was provided by the blue lupine, Lupinus nootkatensis. One of the plants most recently introduced, it has generated some controversy. Deliberately brought in from Alaska in the mid-1940s, the lupine has spread rapidly. As a member of the Legume family, lupine hosts symbiotic nitrogen-fixing bacteria in its roots, and so enriches and stabilizes the depleted soil. Some consider this a blessing, while others call for the eradication of the exotic, invasive plant.  For better or worse, lupines have spread widely in cool climates, including in Patagonia and New Zealand.

Almost like a river of volcanic lava, a wave of blue lupine spreads across an otherwise barren Icelandic landscape.

Aside from that, a handful of plant species were beginning to bloom as the summer solstice approached. The few that I was able to capture are posted below. Enjoy. 

A lone Iceland poppy, Papaver nudicaulis,
makes an early appearance. Despite its name,
 it too is a widespread subarctic species,
not truly an endemic.

Cardamine pratense blooms in a 
sheltered location. 

A horsetail, possibly Equisetum pratense,
grows among rocks.

Buttercups (Ranunculus sp) are
abundant in Iceland and Greenland

Cinquefoil, Potentilla crantzii, in the Rose family, is a
 buttercup lookalike.

A wild pansy, Viola tricolor, survives on
a rocky mountain slope.

Saxifraga oppositifolia forms a low-growing
mat in exposed places.

Saxifraga has been featured on an
Iceland postage stamp.

The town of Paamiut, sits on the rocky west coast of 
Greenland. 

In Paamuiut, Greenland, Draba subcapitata
(lower) and Saxifraga caespitosa 
grow together. 

 

Viola tricolor in Greenland

In Greenland another arctic poppy,
Papaver radicatum is common.

Cerastium alpinum grows from a crack in the rocks.

A glimpse of Chilean plant life

 i was on a cruise along the coast of Chile last month. It was late summer and early Fall down there, not
exactly prime wildflower season, nor did I have much time on land. Nevertheless, as per my habit, I recorded whatever wildflowers I could find, and there were some very interesting ones. 

Chile is a long slender country. If you flipped it over onto the northern hemisphere, it would stretch from Alaska to Baja California, Mexico. So it has a wide range of climates and vegetation types. The southern tip is a stone's throw from the Antarctic peninsula, and the far north is barren desert. Our cruise focused on the fjords and glaciers of the southern third of the country. 

Glaciers and rugged mountains beyond counting line the Chilean coast.

The pictures that follow will speak for themselves. 

At our jumping off point in Ushuaia,
Argentina, planted flowers were at their
peak, giving hope that some wildflowers
would still be active.

Amidst the lichen-laden hrubby vegetation of the southern Chilean coast a lonely Chaura plant
(Gaultheria mucrunata) bears its crop of berries. Chaura is a relative of 
blueberries and cranberries.

At Punta Arenas, southernmost city in Chile,
yellow lupines (Lupinus arboreus), an invasive
species native to California, blooms throughout 
the short summer.

White daisies, possibly also from North America, also bloom
in Punta Arenas.

The native vegetation along the coast is dominated by Nothofagus antarctica, a relative of oak trees.

Fuschia magellanica, photographed here at the Rio Simpson Nature Preserve, is a common
sight in central Chile.

Gunnera tinctora is a curious plant with enormous leaves. Popular in
botanical gardens and landscapes in suitable climates, it is native
to southern Chile. Sometimes called Chilean rhubarb, because
its stems are used in the same way as a vegetable, it is unrelated
to the European rhubarb plant.

Because of its stiff, spiny-edged leaves,
Desfontainia spinosa is known as Chilean holly,
though it is in a completely different family, 
Columelliaceae. Note the lone orange and yellow
flower. 

Ferns are also common in the moist forests of southern Chile.

A touch of fall color comes to Chacabuco, Chile
in late March.

After disembarking our ship at Valparaiso, I was thrilled to spot the native Chilean Wine Palm,
Jubaea chilensis growing in large numbers on a dry hillside. I was able to snap some halfway decent pictures through the window of our moving bus.

In earlier times, sap was extracted from the palm trunks
and used for syrup and wine. The sap could be
extracted only by felling the tree, a wasteful process
that has been banned.