The Joyful Botanist: Pussy willows
The distinctive and odd blooms of willow.
Adam Bigelow photo
Every year in early spring, I try to maintain some sense of normalcy and keep to regular schedules and rhythms of work and life. I try, but spring fever infects me each year, and I get caught up in the beautiful excitement of springtime. If this is a sickness, then I hope there’s no cure.
Sometimes I have to leave Southern Appalachia in the springtime for work or family obligations. As much as I try not to, it does happen.
Coming home after a week or even a few days, the changes that have occurred seem rapid and striking. I’ve been on one of those family trips, and before I left town last week, spring had begun to spring up around my home.
I’m fully expecting to return to a yard that has almost completely changed from the winter look the mountains have held for many months. Just days before leaving, all of the spicebush (Lindera benzoin) along the driveway and up the hillsides had begun blooming. Such a subtle shift in the color palette, from the winter browns to this dull yellow sheen that spicebush gives to the hillsides when in early spring bloom.
The redbud tree I planted began showing the secret of why we call this purple flowering tree “redbud.” The buds were swelling with anticipation, and the first color to show is red before the purples and pinks take over. However, purplebud tree just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
Down the hill next to my garden space is a giant of a pussy willow bush (Salix sp.). It is obviously old and happy where it is growing. Large branches have fallen along the ground, and many new shoots arise from them. It is so large that I’ve placed a nice garden bench under it to take advantage of the shade it gives in summer. I am not sure and even doubtful, that this one is a native species.
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Many willow plants that people assume are native to Appalachia are not; they’ve just been here a long time. Not a long time compared to the millions of years that native species have existed and co-evolved on the land, but a long time to our own human reckoning and remembrance. The beautiful weeping willow (Salix babylonica) and the large, gnarled tree with twisty, curling branches called “dragon’s claw willow” that has one of my favorite botanical names, Salix matsudana ‘Tortuosa’ are not native to North America, let alone Cullowhee.
And neither are most of the plants we would call “pussy willow.” North Carolina has only five native species of willow. The black willow (Salix nigra) is a large tree often growing near creeks and rivers. Also along the creeks is the shrub called silky willow (Salix sericea), which ironically is one of my cats’ names. There are the uncommonly seen dwarf upland willow (Salix occidentalis) and a coastal plain willow (Salix caroliniana) that does not occur in the mountains.
This leaves Salix humilis, the prairie willow, also known as “upland willow” and “small pussy willow.” While I’m doubtful that this is the species in my yard, it does occur uncommonly throughout the mountains. It also earns the name “small pussy willow” as this species grows at most to 10 feet high. The one in my yard is easily 20 feet tall.
I’m fully expecting to return to a yard and hillside filled with flowering shrubs and trees, and I’m excited to see what new blooms have emerged under them. Springtime is infectious, and surely the only treatment is to get outside and go look for wildflowers blooming. I’ll join you.
(The Joyful Botanist leads weekly wildflower walks most Fridays and offers consultations and private group tours through Bigelow’s Botanical Excursions. This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
