Maples in Early Spring

If you live in the temperate eastern United States, and you only know one kind of tree, it's probably going to be a maple.  Everyone knows maples.  People either recognize and love maples' unique, pointy leaves, enjoy maple syrup, admire bright fall maple trees, or played with maple helicopter seeds as kids.  Few people know what maples are up to this time of year, though.

Even without leaves, maples are very busy this time of year.  Look at the ends of the branches on this maple tree below:  there are lumps all along the branches.

Swollen maple buds ready to pop.  Early March.

Those lumps are flower buds.  Many maples flower and fruit before they leaf out.  Here is a closeup of maple flowers:

Mid March, maple flowers.

Maple flowers are pollination generalists.  Some are pollinated by insects and bees, some are wind pollinated, and some are self-pollinated.  From the tree's perspective, it pays to be flexible with pollination strategies if you bloom very early in the growing season, because it's difficult to insure that insects will be out when you're ready to bloom.  Insects are really the best pollinators.  They are great at pollinating over long distances with small amounts of pollen, but they require warmer temperatures to do their work.  Wind pollinates cheaply - you don't have to feed it nectar or a portion of your pollen to get it to carry your pollen to another flower.  But wind isn't very specific in direction, so you usually need to make a lot of pollen if you are using wind (more on this next time!).  Self pollinating is convenient, but let's face it, you don't get much genetic variety if you make kids using only your own genes. 

Either way, lots of pollination has happened, because the maples in Chicago are LOADED with maple fruit.  Notice I called these helicopter things seeds earlier in the post, and now I'm calling them fruit.  I didn't want to alarm you earlier, but here's how this works:  fruits are plant parts that hold seeds.  An apple fruit has seeds in it, and so does a cucumber, and so does a maple fruit.  The maple fruit consists of a wing and a case around the actual seed.  Open up the swollen end of the fruit, and you will find a sticky seed (and you can stick the fruit on your nose or fingers like we did when we were kids).

Maple fruits (samaras) in late March.

Maple fruits are winged, and they are adapted to being carried far away from their parent tree by the wind.  They do indeed work like helicopters - their wing catches the wind and spins them along to hopefully sunnier ground than the ground just under their parent tree (maples are indeed shade trees).  There are many types of fruits out there: berries, capsules, hesperidia, drupes, pepoes, etc.  Fruits with wings are called samaras.  Both maples and ash trees have samaras to carry their seeds away.

New (red!) maple leaves, plus some maple samaras, late March.

Above you can see some new leaves just starting to grow on this maple. I had to look hard to find maple leaves on this type of maple tree - they mostly have only fruit right now.  Below you can see two pictures of early leaf growth on a Japanese maple.  Japanese maples seem to usually leaf out before they set fruit.

Japanese maple leaf buds opened and showing the new expanding leaves, late March.

Slightly older Japanese maple leaves, late March.

Buds of Spring

A few weeks ago, I explained how to tell the age of a twig, and last week, I showed you the amazing colors of photosynthesizing spring twigs.  Well, it's apparently twig month.  But don't worry, twigs are fascinating, and we haven't wrung all the goodie out of them yet.   

Buckeye leaf buds.

Today we'll focus in on buds, since that is what seems to be the most active biological phenomenon in Chicago at the moment.  Buds of many trees and shrubs are starting to grow, and I have become fearful of checking the weather report since we're well before the last frost date for this growth region (April 20).  I know we're going to see lots of branches with melty, drippy dead leaves one of these days.

As you can see from the picture above, I finally found a buckeye, the best twigs for learning twig structures.  Even with the mediocre picture quality, you can see the giant bud scales and leaf scars.  The terminal bud has almost doubled in size and is about ready to pop out some leaves.

Shrub buds leafing out.

In the photo above, of a mystery shrub I have not yet identified, the double terminal buds have expanded so much that you can see individual leaves.  I didn't stop to get a better picture because the house owner came home while I was photographing his buds, and we had an awkward moment.  In a better picture from buds at the Lincoln Park Zoo, below, you can see miniature leaves, and the terminal bud scales are still present at the base of the leaves.  No doubt zoo patrons were wondering why I was taking pictures of a shrub and not the demonstrating chimpanzees right behind me.  They'll just have to start subscribing to my blog to find out.  Loyal readers (hi Mom and Dad), any guesses why these new leaves are reddish?

Shrub buds leafing out.

The picture below introduces you to a new plant structure, the flower bud.  There are a cluster of tiny dogwood flower buds between my fingers, surrounded by four flower bud scales.  Any plant bud is just a beginning of a new plant structure.  So you can have leaf buds, flower buds and even root buds.  Inside each bud is a small cluster of the plant equivalent of stem cells.  Plants' stem cells are called meristematic tissue, and a cluster of these cells are called a meristem.  Meristems are the specific cells capable of growing new plant tissue.  Most plants have meristems in their tips, like in buds.  Plants like grasses have meristems near their bases, which means they can easily grow back after you run the lawnmower over them.

Dogwood shrub flower buds.

Below is a gorgeous magnolia flower bud.  You can see hairy bud scales and light pink flower petals beginning to emerge.

Saucer magnolia flower buds.

Next are the flower buds of a plant so famous for buds that it is named after them: the redbud tree.  Redbud buds are a little strange - they can grow out of a mature twig or even out of the tree trunk.  This phenomenon of flowers emerging from the mature wood instead of from new green growing tips is called cauliflory, and it's quite unusual.

Redbud buds.

I've saved the best picture for last.  I found these strange objects on the ground in the perennial garden section of the Chicago Botanical Garden.  There are red, papery bud scales and bunched up green leaf babies crammed inside the red buds emerging straight from the ground.  I had to ask, since I've never seen these before, and it turns out they are rhubarb buds!  The leaves will expand and grow remarkably quickly, since they are so fully formed inside the buds.  Then I will turn the stems into a pie.

Rhubarb buds.

Gettin' Twiggy With It

A trip to the Chicago Botanic Garden this morning provided me with much blog fodder for this and the next few posts.  Spring is early this year, bringing a bounty of beautiful sights to the Botanic Garden. 

Greenish yellow weeping willows and orange willow shrubs on the left side.

Many trees and shrubs have responded to the spring weather, even if they haven't leafed out yet, by becoming quite colorful.  Their twigs have begun to manufacture photosynthetic pigments near the surface of the bark, making for yellow, orange, red and green twigs.  Forget everything you ever learned about plants - they photosynthesize using bark! (OK, don't forget anything, but you can add on.)  The picture above shows a lovely spring scene with willow trees and shrubs revealing their spring pigments.

Crimson tipped shrub willows.

The brilliant colors of the shrub willows drew me in for a closer look.  Up close, they have yellow stems with bright red tips.  The greenish yellow of the lower stems is probably a mix of chlorophylls and xanthophylls (here is an explanation of pigments in this earlier post).  The red is likely due to anthocyanins, but there is almost certainly chlorophyll also present in the twigs masked by the stronger red pigments.

Willow twigs with crimson tips.

Red is a common pigment 'choice' for plants that are active in cold weather.  The red may act to filter out some excess light and act as a sunscreen for the plant.  Plants can't photosynthesize as quickly when it's cold out, and too much light can overload the slow system.  Red pigments also tend to absorb more heat than other pigments, and even a tiny increase in temperature can increase the rate of photosynthesis.  In this crimson-tipped willow, the narrow tips would be especially likely to freeze, so red pigments there could help them be more active in the cold.  Alternatively, since this plant is growing in a botanic garden, it is likely the product of selective breeding for aesthetically pleasing but physiologically useless traits - so the colorful twigs could just be pretty and not useful at all.

Red dogwood twigs.

Above you can see entirely red twigs of a shrubby type of dogwood.  I can attest that many types of dogwood twigs are often red in the wild as well as in botanic gardens.  People and nature seem to favor red twigs for winter growth.  The overall effect (below) of these red twigs is startlingly beautiful.

Dogwood shrubs.

Many plants opt for green chlorophyll for winter twigs, as seen this variety of rose-related shrub below.  These stems can actively photosynthesize any time the temperature and light are favorable.  The tough, thick stems are able to survive freezing where leaves cannot.  When the temperatures rise to predictably non-freezing levels, these roses will leaf out and photosynthesize in earnest for the growing season.

Rose stems.

When we came to Chicago in October, forecasts said it would be the worst winter ever.  Instead, it's been a record-breakingly warm winter.  Spring seems to be competing to outdo winter's numbers.  It's been 80 degrees for days now.  Plants that use temperature as a trigger to emerge from winter's dormancy are already leafing out.  Those that use day length as the gauge for the start of spring still look like they should for this time of year - leafless and grey.  I suspect the day-length strategy will work better this year, since Chicago has been known to have freezes into April.  Trees that leaf out early stand a good chance of having to grow new leaves after their first ones get frozen off.  Late leaf growth combined with twig pigmentation is a good strategy for climates with unpredictable spring temperatures.  Using twigs to photosynthesize can give a tree a good head-start on the growing season without the risk of having tender plant parts frozen off.