Spring Glory (Flora) of the Great Smoky Mountains

From Sarah:



Newly leafed poison ivy



Forty hours later, as Mom and Dad waved goodbye to us, and Jay and I set foot on the AT for the first time together, I still felt the wide eyes and dream-like wonder of Dorothy.  The clouds had blown away.  The sun was shining; birds were singing; flowers blooming.  The yellow brick road had nothing on the glory of the southern Appalachians in spring time.  My feet were walking through paradise!

Jay suggested I show him poison ivy as we walked.  I think he was a little disconcerted when I immediately stopped and pointed to our right, then left, ahead, and behind.  Every few yards for the next mile or two I showed him every possible permutation of that poisonous plant.  Poison ivy as ankle-high ground cover, as knee-high shrubby plants, as a vine, just leafing out in candy-mint green, slightly older in rusty brown green, fully leafed and large in almost-summer green.  “I’m just never going to touch anything green!” he exclaimed at one point as I showed him yet another transmutation.



Helen and Sarah among a sea of anemones
The ramp is part of a protected area.



The ground was covered with much more that last year’s dead leaves and poison ivy, however.  We hiked past patches of wild ginger, yards of yellow and white trillium, scores of white, fringed spring beauties, colonies of deep green galax, and hundreds of broad-leafed may apples.  Above this wealth of beauteous ground cover rose gray and brown tree trunks with silvery branches sprouting lacy green leaves.  The occasional dogwood in all its glory added to the beauty. 



Red trillium



As the days passed, and we climbed ever higher into the Great Smoky Mountains, we continued to see new flower species almost daily.  Tiny bluets lined the path.  Clumps of Dutchman’s breeches waved their banners.  White wood anemones covered the ground for miles.  Yellow lilies with spotted green leaves poked above the snow-white covering of anemones.  These lilies are called trout lilies in most of the U.S., but here in the south they are known as dog-toothed violets, though they look about as much like a violet as a dog looks like a cat.  Yellow and white trilliums were joined by brilliant red trillium, known as wake robins.  With over 100 species of deciduous trees and 1500 species of flowering plants in the southern Appalachian Mountains, the variety felt endless.

Patch of white trillium