Here in my basket are some late-summer mushrooms. The yellow ones are chanterelles and the black ones are black trumpets. Both came from my woodlot. The chanterelles were in a section of mixed hardwood/softwood and the black trumpets came from a large colony growing along and also in, a tote road.

The mushrooms in the photo below are spreading hydnums and are easily identified by the thick stem and distinctive whitish-orange (I liken this to the color of a Cremesicle that I ate as a kid) color of the cap.

But the most distinctive feature of the hydnum mushroom is the spiny-looking projections on the bottom of the cap. These were likened to teeth by whomever gave this mushroom its scientific name of Dentinum remandum.

Of course there are many other easily identified mushrooms around now, but these are probably the choicest, at least in my opinion.

By the way, I'm giving two talks on foraging this coming Saturday, October 1, 2011. These are at two locations in Brunswick. For more info on this, go to www.justwrite.com.

Plants With Symbiotic Relationships

Feast or famine, that’s what we foragers contend with. Right now, garden vegetables are coming in big-time and also, some of the “weeds” in our garden beds, actually wonderful, edible wild plants, continue to produce.

Today, I picked a big helping of lamb’s quarters, one of my favorite green leafy vegetables. Usually thought of as a plant that only yields its sweet leaves in early summer, lamb’s quarters continue pushing up new growth and also, older plants, those purposely left in the garden, constantly put forth new, tender tips.

In the photo accompanying today’s blog post, you can see me standing with my just-picked lamb’s quarters in my hand. I placed myself just in front of a curious combination of cultivated plants.

First, some “volunteer” winter squash that came up in a raised bed meant for beans and chard, has made its way up my grapevine. Airborne squash is fine with me, since it is always clean and usually insect-free.

In turn, the grapes have overstepped their bounds by growing up, in, on and through a nearby crabapple tree.

None of these adventurous plants has done the least bit of harm to the other. In fact, I enjoy the novelty of seeing squash up in a grape arbor and grapes winding through a crabapple tree.

Such apparently symbiotic associations also occur with wild plants. The Japanese knotweed along my driveway hosts the adventitious vines of groundnuts. At first, the groundnut vines choked out the young knotweed. But as it has matured, the knotweed plants have become more able to withstand the pressure from the groundnut vines.

These things might, perhaps, be indicative of both human and animal relationships. Everything depends upon something else in one way or another. There’s a lesson in that, somewhere.

The Wooly Bear Makes Its Prediction

I stepped outside this morning to see the namesake for this blog curled up on a paving stone in front of my door. Seeing a wooly bear caterpillar now, in late August, is no big surprise. From now through October, these orange-and-black, 1.2-inch-long caterpillars, the immature form of an Isabella moth, are fairly active.

But this wooly bear was different. According to legend, the length of the black mid-section of a wooly bear, when compared to the orange front and back ends, indicate the length and/or severity of the coming winter. If we are to believe this insect, then winter 2011/2012 will come in like a lamb and go out like a lamb. The moth had no trace of black.

Do I believe the tradition of the wooly bear? Of course not. All the same, such fanciful stories are often rooted in at least a modicum of truth. Is it possible that the wooly bear really can, perhaps in some small way, predict the coming season? I just don’t know. But if the wooly bear on my front walkway is telling the truth, snowmobile, snow shovel and insulated boot sales will probably hit an all-time low this winter.

Other weather and climate traditions are based upon averages. For instance, old-time wisdom holds that when goldenrod (the same goes for Joy-Pye weed) blooms, the first frost of the season is only six weeks away. Well, since goldenrod blooms in early August, and the first frost often arrives around the second week of September, generally speaking, we can see how legend was interwoven with fact.

The same is true for Groundhog Day, or Candlemas Day, an old-time church holiday. Jump ahead six weeks from Groundhog Day and guess what happens? Spring arrives.

But getting back to the all-orange wooly bear. It does puzzle me. As per what happens this winter, we will just have to wait and see.

Pearly Everlasting Time

It’s pearly everlasting time. Often found in wild dried-flower arrangements, pearly everlasting, Anaphalis margaritacea, has a number of medicinal uses. Just the same, few, if any, depend upon this plant for medicine. But one of its uses would probably enjoy wide appeal if only more people knew of it.

The little white, globular flowers, when chewed, assuage thirst by keeping the mouth moist. When hiking, I like to chew on a few pearly everlasting flowers. Besides their thirst-quenching capabilities, these flowers have a mild but pleasant flavor…at least to my way of thinking.

The plant averages about 18 inches, but can grow as tall as three feet. The leaves, long, thin, grayish-green above and whitish beneath, grow alternately up the stem. The flowers, described above, are held atop the plant in clusters.

Late summer marks the height of pearly everlasting season. When present, these plants often appear in fairly large colonies. They prefer poor, even sterile soil, so common in much of Maine.

So next time you see pearly everlasting, stop and take a minute to pick some flowers. At first, they feel quite dry in the mouth. But with a bit of chewing, they swell and release their flavor. I much prefer these to chewing gum.

By the way, a friend tells me that he enjoys sweet everlasting in a tea. The trouble is, sweet everlasting does not grow anywhere near my friend’s house. I'm convinced that he is picking pearly everlasting and thinks he has sweet everlasting. The same guy also claims to use sweet goldenrod in a tea. That does not grow here either. He is mistaking Canada goldenrod for sweet goldenrod. This all points out the value in making a proper identification. In my friend’s case, there is no harm, since both the actual and imagined species are harmless. But if a look-alike plant was toxic, and someone mistook it for a good one, possibly bad results could occur.

So get a good field guide before using any plant internally. That said, be sure to try the flowers of pearly everlasting. They may become a regular part of your outdoor ventures in late summer.

Now is Time To Identify Wild Edible Plants

Entering late summer, many wild plants have already matured. This gives foragers an opportunity to examine them in their most easily recognizable form. It also goes hand-in-hand with my frequently stated admonition that we need to be able to recognize the wild, useful plants in all their stages of development.

Also, so many plants are only good as food when they are young. And that often presents a problem in locating them. Young plants are small plants and as such, are sometimes difficult to locate. By noting now where the mature plants stand, we can return to that same spot next spring and reap a harvest of young, tender plants.

Today’s highlighted plant, common evening primrose, Oenothera biennis, is well on its way to maturity. Individual plants have attained their maximum height and are now in flower. Their rocket-shaped seedpods will soon open and spread hundreds of seeds all around the base of the plant.

The second half of the botanical name, biennis, gives a hint as to the nature of common evening primrose. It is a biennial, meaning that it lives for two, perhaps three years, sets seed and dies.

In early spring, the carrot-shaped roots of first-year plants make fine eating when cooked. Also, the young leaves from the basal rosettes (that is, the leaves, when very young, lie flat on the ground, their stems emanating from a central point) make a nice salad addition and are useful as cooked potherbs.

But finding these plants just after snow melts, when they are at their prime, is a hit-or-miss proposition. That is unless you have an idea where to look. Noting the presence of last year’s dried stalks greatly simplifies the search.

So begin today. Look in fields and lawn edges for the mature primrose. Then, next spring, visit again and reap your reward.

Identify your wild plants now

Entering late summer, many wild plants have already matured. This gives foragers an opportunity to examine them in their most easily recognizable form. It also goes hand-in-hand with my frequently stated admonition that we need to be able to recognize the wild, useful plants in all their stages of development.

Also, so many plants are only good as food when they are young. And that often presents a problem in locating them. Young plants are small plants and as such, are sometimes difficult to locate. By noting now where the mature plants stand, we can return to that same spot next spring and reap a harvest of young, tender plants.

Today’s highlighted plant, common evening primrose, Oenothera biennis, is well on its way to maturity. Individual plants have attained their maximum height and are now in flower. Soon, they will develop rocket-shaped seedpods. These will later open and spread hundreds of seeds all around the base of the plant. The plant with numerous small yellow flowers standing next to my greenhouse in the above photo is an evening primrose. The second half of the botanical name, biennis, gives a hint as to the nature of common evening primrose. It is a biennial, meaning that it lives for two, perhaps three years, sets seed and dies.

In early spring, the carrot-shaped roots of first-year plants make fine eating when cooked. Also, the young leaves from the basal rosettes (the leaves, when very young, lie flat on the ground, their stems emanating from a central point) are useful in salads and cooked as a potherb.

But finding these plants just after snow melts is a hit-or-miss proposition, that is unless you have an idea where to look. Noting the presence of last year’s dried stalks greatly simplifies the search.

So begin today. Look in fields and lawn edges for the mature primrose. Then, next spring, visit again and reap your reward.

Forager's delight

A bout with bronchitis has laid me low and unable to go afield in search of wild plants. Fortunately, my garden has begun to produce beans, chard and summer squash, all favorites of mine.

Also, some garden “weeds” remain, having been purposely spared in order that I might harvest them upon maturity. One of these, purslane, is welcome indeed. This requires but little energy (something I am in short supply of at the moment) to pick…just grab and lift from the loose, garden soil. And if an entire plant comes up roots and all, what of it? Purslane self-seeds readily, so that’s not really a problem. Once established, always present.

Along with purslane and garden vegetables, trout in my pond have reached an acceptable size to harvest. These 9- to 10-inch brook trout are of a perfect length to fit in a frying pan. Also, they are just big and fat enough that one trout satisfies me.

So times are good. This is what we Mainers wait for all winter long. But make no mistake…the seasons continue to change, although it takes a bit of sleuthing to notice it. For instance, goldenrod has acquired its trademark golden hue. A few colored leaves drop from red maples and boneset has begun to bloom. These are all signs of approaching fall.

So while we revel in summer and its comfort and warmth, just remember that the “times they are a-changing.” But for now, enjoy.