Triumvirate of Violet

by Mark Miles

Temperatures have finally started cooling in central North Carolina recently, but there’s been such an inundation of rain that the plants and trees haven’t fully accepted the calendrical arrival of autumn. As such, there are many flowering plants in the area that are still flowering, despite the fact that their flowering time has ostensibly passed. I’m guessing they’re as confused by this climatic havoc as I am. Regardless, their blossoms are still attractive, and they give me an opportunity to share more of nature’s beauty, about which I can’t complain.

The fluffiest of the three flowers in this post is the first. Blue mistflower (Conoclinium coelestinum) isn’t really blue; it’s actually violet. However, it does have some blue undertones, and its blossoms are immediately recognizable by virtue of their color and texture. I stumbled on this specimen by an old abandoned house not far from where I live on a recent evening walk. The house is abandoned by humans, but it certainly hasn’t been abandoned by nature, which has reclaimed much of the yard. As a result, this blue mistflower has had more than ample opportunity to thrive, for which I’m grateful.

This plant eluded me for the longest time. I actually have it in my backyard, an unsolicited visitor but one which continues to delight me with its azure blossoms and violet undertones. (I know it’s a stretch to include a blue flower under the title of this post, but if someone can label an unmistakably violet flower as blue–cf. blue mistflower–I think I’m allowed a similar indulgence.) I was finally able to identify it after much searching as the Asiatic dayflower (Commelina communis), though I personally prefer the name of mouse-ears, which is an alternate title for the plant and much more descriptive of the dainty upward-reaching petals. Though it’s considered a noxious weed in many areas, it does have beneficial attributes. In Japan it’s historically been used to make a striking blue dye used to illustrate traditional manuscripts. In addition it has the ability to bioaccumulate heavy metals to such an extent that it’s considered to be a viable candidate for helping in the cleanup of heavily polluted mining sites.

The last of these flowers is also the most easily recognizable for most people. I found this specimen of hibiscus (Hibiscus syriacus) along the side of the road where it’d been largely overlooked and chopped down nearly to the ground. Nevertheless, this one blossom managed to spring forth in the last reaches of summer with the fading sunlight of my evening walk accenting its delicate hues of violet and magenta. I wanted to take the flower home with me, but I left it where it was in the knowledge that I could find other hibiscus blossoms in some of my favorite herbal teas, to which hibiscus imparts its distinctive color in addition to contributing Vitamin C, zinc, and omega-3 fatty acids. In nature, then, we find that beauty and health are two petals on the same flower.

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Light and Shadow in the Summer Sun

by Mark Miles

Toward the end of June, I went to Occoneechee Mountain for the sixth time this year. I’ve been making it a habit to go at least once per month, and that schedule has allowed me to enjoy the fluctuations of the seasons without becoming inured to the place by visiting too frequently. As a result, the mountain remains fresh and exhilarating to me whenever I visit.

Cresting one of the first slopes along the main trail, I came within view of the early evening sun. It was dazzling after the gloomy atmosphere of the hill leading up to it, and I stood for a few moments to soak in the moment.

After branching off on the mountain loop trail, I descended again into the relative gloominess of the forest. It wasn’t in any way unpleasant, but I have to admit I was slightly unnerved on my first few visits when the canopy seemed to become much darker much quicker than the open terrain around the mountain.

On my way up the side of the mountain toward the overlook trail, I stumbled on this beauty. Appropriately enough, its common name is Maryland meadow-beauty (Rhexia mariana), which I only found out after searching for a solid forty-five minutes on my phone through an online database. It’s a perennial with spiny stems, lanceolate leaves, four-petaled flowers, and drooping anthers. And it lives up to its name too, being one of the most beautiful flowers to be found on a western slope in the early evening, when the orange sunlight accentuates its innate magenta coloration.

To my surprise, despite arriving at the park later than I wanted, I had almost perfect timing for sunset, making it to the overlook itself within minutes of the last peek of the sun over the horizon. There were two other people there to savor the final rays of the day, and together we shared the moment on the edge of the mountain-face before going our separate ways.