I get asked questions a lot about plants, nature and the woods. People will walk up to me, take out their phones and show me a picture of a leaf or flower they found on their last hike or growing in their back yard and ask, “Hey Adam, what’s this plant?” I love it when this happens, every time. It brings a big smile to my face and joy to my heart. 

Editor’s note: This is a re-print of a column that originally ran in 2022.

There are many different plants that Appalachian mountainfolk have used for centuries in their decorations and celebrations on or around the winter solstice. 

There are many different wildflowers that signal the seasonal transition from summer into fall. 

I used to be overcome with the melancholy of fall when I would see the goldenrods (Solidago spp.) start to bloom, thinking “No, it’s too early for the end of the blooming season and the start of winter!” That’s how I used to think of fall. Goldenrods no longer usher in the sadness for me as I have successfully reframed them as a summer wildflower that blooms into fall. 

At the higher elevations in the Southern Appalachian Mountains grows a special and sacred tree whose red berries glow in the full sun against a clear blue-sky. Steeped in folklore and traditions brought by European settlers and colonizers, the sight of the rowan tree (Sorbus americanus) must have filled the hearts of Scotch and Irish descendants with nostalgia for home. 

Writing these columns for the last couple of years has brought me so much joy that I have decided to celebrate by changing the name of my writings to The Joyful Botanist. And nothing says launching a new name than launching a revolution while you’re at it. So, let’s start a revolution! 

Please don’t get me wrong, I love the orchids of springtime. Love them. They tend to be as big and showy and beautiful as springtime itself.  Ladyslipper orchids, both yellow and pink (Cypripedium acaule and C. parviflorum) and showy orchis (Galearis spectabilis) are certainly beautiful and fun to see blooming in the woods in the spring.  

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to cut it up and use it for heat or timber, is it a waste of resources? Or, put another way, are humans the only reason that all other life on Earth was created?

I wear a few different hats in my world. A big straw hat for working in the garden or walking out in the sun. Wool caps and toboggans for the colder mornings of spring. Party hats for the celebrations. I’ve even been known to wear a tricorne hat when visiting Colonial Williamsburg as a kid. 

Learn how to give your fruit trees some love with a workshop starting at 10 a.m. Saturday, Feb. 3, at Winding Stair Nursery in Franklin. 

Among the duff of last year’s fallen leaves lie many interesting and beautiful shapes to catch your eye on a winter’s walk in the woods. From the mosses and orchid leaves described in previous columns, to newly emerging plants preparing for spring’s full flush, there are many forms and patterns on the winter forest’s floor.