I think a lot about native plants. In fact, it is the subject of most everything I do, from the weekly wildflower walks I lead during the growing season, to the many classes, workshops and presentations I offer throughout the year. And I write about native plants in these columns that I produce twice a month. My focus is on plants that are native to the southern Appalachian Mountains and Western North Carolina. 

I’m a fairly serious person, usually sticking with facts, data and science. But occasionally I enjoy a good joke or a bout of silliness. Actually, anyone who has been reading these columns or has been on a walk among the wildflowers with me knows that silly puns and jokes are my bread and butter. 

As the fall winds blow the remaining leaves from deciduous trees and the plants have gone dormant for the season, the bones of the mountains and skeletal shapes of the trees come into view. Especially on snowy days, when the fallen snow lays on both forest floor and the branches of trees and shrubs, creating a stark outline of the forms of both hills and limbs. 

In autumn, large trees like maples (Acer spp.), hickories (Carya spp.) and Oaks (Quercus spp.) get all the attention for their vivid fall leaf color. And that esteem is well deserved, along with smaller trees like flowering dogwood (Benthamidia florida), blackgum (Nyssa sylvatica) and sourwood (Oxydendron arboreum), these colorful trees bring the tourists and their cameras each fall. 

I have been thinking a lot about healing lately. How it happens, how long it can take and the differences between healing emotional wounds and physical wounds, not to mention psychic and spiritual wounds. And to no one’s surprise, I’ve been thinking about plants: how they heal themselves, how they help heal the land, and how they help us in our own healing of body and spirit. 

There is almost no flower in the Southern Mountains deeper in purple color than the ironflowers (Vernonia spp.) blooming now in unmown ditches and fallow fields all around Western North Carolina and across the Southeast.

On Monday, Aug. 11, J. Dan Pittillo died. The world has lost an amazing person, a gifted and kind educator, a dedicated father and husband, and one of the top botanists in the Southern Appalachian Mountains and the Southeastern United States. 

Among my favorite things is to be walking in the woods and come across a patch of wild edible fruits. How quickly a leisurely stroll or difficult hike in the woods can offer a refreshing trailside treat or even enough abundance to make pies and jam just from noticing ripe fruits and knowing that they are edible and delicious. 

Snakes tend to scare people. Believe me, I get it. Being named Adam and being an avid gardener, stories of snakes and apples and Eve have followed me my whole life. Snakes have been demonized by biblical references and the general fear of wild things. This fear tends to keep many people from exploring the woods and meadows around them, unfortunately. 

The full light of the summer solstice arrives and aligns with the vegetative growth period of mid-summer. Spring wildflowers have passed at all but the highest elevations, and only the earliest summer flowers have started to bloom.