#ephemerals

[huariqueje]

Ephemerals    -   Kerry Simmons

American , b. 1976 -

Oil and wax pastel on paper , 40 x 40 in.

[oliviarosaline]

Bloodroot

Sanguinaria canadensis

March 31st, 2023

Jefferson County, Missouri, USA

Olivia R. Myers

@oliviarosaline

[sophieinwonderland]

pretty sure my girl is an ephemeral? i have adhd memory problems so that may be the issue but she doesn't seem to have separate memories from me at all. she remembers things that happened to me as if they happened to her, and when she tries to remember our conversations she remembers them from my side. basically we share a memory. is there any way to fix this? she insists it's the same her every time but she doesn't have memories of her own so i can't tell.

Huh. That's interesting.

The original idea behind ephemerals is that it's NOT them every time. That every single interaction is a completely new iteration. If she's insisting she's the same every time, then I wouldn't think of it as an ephemeral.

Her remembering things happening to you as if they happened to her is particularly strange.

Do you mean like, if you hit your head, she would later recall it as: "I hit my head?"

Perhaps this is indicative of some sort of median system? I do think plenty of systems have similar experiences.

Also, I will note that headmates often don't like, see out of their eyes or anything like that in the mindform. Or at least, only one headmate can at once in many systems. If I'm imposed, I'll remember the feeling from my perspective, but what is seen is going to naturally be thorugh the host's eyes.

[15-blade]

Spring ephemeral collection: red trillium, primrose, white bleeding heart (never seen these white!), wild violet, red columbine, jack in the pulpit, woodland forget me nots.

[rjzimmerman]

This tiny flower teaches us all we need to know about growing old. (Washington Post Opinion)

For most of my life, I marked the progress of spring by its blooms. First came the crocuses of February and the daffodils of March, followed, in quick succession, by the tulips and hyacinth, the lilac and flowering cherry and the saucer magnolias. Later, the azaleas would explode in a pink and red riot — and, before long, the peonies would unfurl to proclaim the approach of summer. Each arrival announced itself with a spectacular burst of color and, often, a sweet perfume that filled the yard.

But lately I’ve come to share the view of Wendy Cass, the head botanist at Shenandoah National Park, when she sees a waving clump of daffodils.

“Boring,” she says.

What I had been watching all those years was spring as humans made it. This year, I’m experiencing spring as God made it.

Those tulips, lilacs and all the rest were imported from Europe and Asia, curated and genetically manipulated by humans so they would grow with no effort and display improbably sweet and showy blooms. They are beautiful, no question, and I will always smile when I see a host of golden daffodils as Wordsworth did, “Beside the lake, beneath the trees/ Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”

But this year, I’ve instead been walking in the still-bare forest and looking for Dutchman’s breeches.

In case you are wondering why some European left his pants in the woods, let me explain that the Dutchman’s breeches is my new favorite flower. Its bloom, just a half-inch tall, looks like an upside-down pair of white pantaloons, belted at the waist with a yellow rope. Native to this part of the eastern United States, it’s one of the first wildflowers of spring, popping up in late March or early April, flowering for a couple of weeks and disappearing as quickly as it came. Its entire growing season — from the time its first green shoot emerges from the earth to the moment its last bit of green foliage dies for the year — is just a couple of months.

Yet so much life comes from those delicate trousers. It’s one of the first foods in the forest after a long winter, and a crucial bit of sustenance for the queen bumblebee. When she emerges from her overwintering nest in the ground (the other bees die during the winter), she stretches her long tongue into the Dutchman’s breeches to reach its nectar, which nourishes her as she lays the eggs that will replenish the colony with the next generation of workers.

The Dutchman’s breeches are part of a class of plants felicitously known as “spring ephemerals.” They appear on the forest floor before the trees have leafed out, taking advantage of the sunlight. They flower, go to seed and die back within just six to 12 weeks. These are flowers you generally won’t find at florists: They are bluebells and bloodroot, trout lilies and toothwort, spring beauties and rue anemone. They are joined by other flowers that, while not “true” ephemerals (their foliage lasts a bit longer), generally share the same category: the great white trillium, hepatica, star chickweed and mayapple.

They are notoriously difficult to cultivate, hard to transplant and even harder to grow from seeds. It can take seven years from the time a trillium seed is planted to the appearance of just one of its three-petal flowers. Ephemerals are finicky and fussy plants, growing only in forests and typically near streams. They aren’t as bold and colorful as garden-variety flowers, and most don’t even have a scent. You won’t spot spring ephemerals from your car window with an “ooh” and an “ah.” To find them, you have to go on a treasure hunt in the forest. Their flowers can be tiny — sometimes just a millimeter or two — and you could easily miss them if you don’t look carefully.

That is just the point.

[vandaliatraveler]

Above are two views of an intermittent stream along the Mon River Trail: one from mid March (top); and one from late April (bottom). From the start of the first wave, the spring ephemerals have about one-and-a-half months to bloom and get pollinated before the canopy closes in.

[spreadcasts]

[good-music-only]

I Feel So Bad Kungs (Ephemerals)