Observe, Speculate, Belong: My Phenological Walk
People don’t go on walks anymore. Well, maybe your mom does, but most of us probably believe walking to be a considerably inconvenient way to get from one place to another. I know I do. As a runner, I constantly ask myself as I navigate the streets of Chicago’s north side, “why walk when running is so much faster?” However, the problem with running is that although I can see the plants as I pass them, it’s difficult to get a reliable observation of a specific plant, animal, or fungus. The best I could do is say “Hey look a duck!” or “Over there are some hyacinths!” But I couldn’t tell you more than that, and I realized that I had to slow down. Going on a separate, slower phenological walk every week has allowed me to notice more details about the plants and the animals that I pass on my runs while also permitting me to see new plants that I have never noticed. Now you are probably a bit confused by what I mean by a phenological walk, and to answer that, I must provide you with a definition of phenology. Phenology is the study of nature’s clock, or more specifically, the study of biological events and cycles that have cues in seasons. It is an integrative science that works to ground climate change in observations over time (Hineline 55).
Making observations is the most important aspect of phenology, so I hope that you’ll join me as I take a phenological walk through my dooryard to look at change in action. A dooryard is “a patch of the outdoors where the business of human work and play, in and out of doors, transacts with the natural world over which we assume we have little control” (Hineline 5). In simpler terms, a dooryard is your neighborhood, your environs, or your surroundings that connect with nature. The following is a map of my phenological trail.
Stop 1: The Hybrid
The first stop on my phenological walk is a mulberry tree (Genus Morus) in DePaul’s Urban Garden. A few weeks ago, I predicted that the tree was a hybrid: part native, Red Mulberry (Morus rubra)and part invasive, White Mulberry (Morus alba) from China. This prediction turned out to be correct because as the tree went through its green-up phase — “when deciduous plants come out of dormancy and unfold leaves to get busy with photosynthesis” (Hineline 30) — the tree revealed two types of leaves. Some of the leaves look long and lobbed, which are characteristics of the red mulberry, while others look short, rounded, and have ridges, which are characteristics of the white mulberry. When this tree began to produce berries during its maturity phase — when leaves turn their maximum area to the sun (Hineline 30) — I noticed that the growth of the berries took on a pattern that resembled a combination of both the red and white mulberry growth patterns. Not yet fully grown, the berries appear to be in clusters of around three, spread throughout the tree. However, there are a few berries growing outside of a cluster on their own. As the summer continues, I will be able to see how the fully grown berry provides further evidence to my conclusion that this tree is a hybrid (Morus alba x Morus rubra).
Stop 2: The Fates
The next spot on my phenological trail is a little landscaped area with a large amount of plant species, all sitting at one corner at the intersection of Belden Ave. and Fremont St. The first species I noticed in this area were Woodland Crocuses (Crocus tommasinianus) which I have been observing for eight weeks. During the past eight weeks, I have learned that woodland crocuses provide a great example of a plant with a specific phenological pattern. The first time I noticed them, they were brilliantly colored: a yellow center with petals beginning in white and blending into purple. The second time I observed this plant, I noticed that the blooms were wilting. The third time I observed them, I noticed that the blooms were completely gone and only their grass-like stems remained. Then, the fifth and following times I observed them, the stems were flattened and wilted to the ground.
This wilt makes sense because woodland crocuses are perennials which “remain alive after reproducing, have a period of dormancy, and green-up again in the new year” (Hineline 110). As temperature rises from spring to summer, the parts of the crocus above ground will being to die to prepare the plant for dormancy. During my first observation of this area, the temperature was 55 degrees and then during my most recent observation of this area, the temperature was 81 degrees, and temperature is one of the most powerful chronobiological cues in phenology (Hineline 31). As a result of the warm weather, the crocuses are in their senescence phase — “when leaves cease photosynthesis” (Hineline 30). I was lucky to be able to watch the woodland crocus through its green-up, maturity, and enter its senescence because for the rest of the year, the plant is just a bulb in the ground.
The other plants I found in this intersection are also perennials, and they include a tulip (Genus tulipa) and a white garden hyacinth (Hyacinthus orientalis). I did not pay much attention to the tulip and the hyacinth until I noticed they bloomed in my third observation of the crocuses because it would have been difficult to identify the greens. However, after I marked them in my journal, I was able to track their change through the green-up into the senescence as well. The tulip began as a closed bud sitting on top of a tube-like stem and then bloomed into a lovely red flower in the span of two weeks. The inside of the flower was yellow and the pistils were large and black. The flower bloomed for only one week before the petals fell off and only the stem remained. The hyacinth followed a similar pattern, but they were already blooming the first time I observed them and it bloomed for 3 weeks before the petals began to brown and fall off, leaving only stems. Something interesting that happened with this particular hyacinth was that the stems did not wilt to the ground with the plant still blooming like the hyacinth located at another stop on my phenological walk.
Stop 3: The Cool Cat
The plant at stop number three is part of my small collection of “new” plants that caught my attention during my most recent walk. I would say final walk, but just because the period in which I was required to take observations for an environmental writing class has ended, does not mean that I will stop taking note of changes happening in my dooryard. My determination to continue making observations reminds me of the idea of local knowledge: “Your attentiveness and the products of your attentiveness, accumulating over time, secure a place of local knowledge against active ignorance” (Hineline 211). In other words, my attentiveness to my dooryard overtime has allowed me to become more knowledgeable about the species in my dooryard, and this knowledge will help me understand climate change as an individual phenomenon in addition to a global one.
Anyways, at this small landscaped area on another street corner of Belden Avenue and Fremont Street, diagonal to the crocuses, tulip, and hyacinth, is one of my “new” plants, Eastern Cat-Mint (Nepta Racemosa). What caught my eye enough to add another stop on my phenological trail was the light purple flowers that had an interesting spotted pattern on the inside when I looked closer. Furthermore, the petals were shaped like little hands or bear paws, and the leaves were dark green and almond-shaped with little ridges. Additionally, the flowers protrude from square-shaped stems that stick up from the rest of the plant. Some stems only have leaves while others have both leaves and flowers.
Stop 4: The Young Old Man
Stop four also houses another plant in my collection of “new” species. Situated in front of DePaul’s School of Music, this plant is a Ginkgo Tree (Ginkgo biloba). This plant caught my eye because during class, one of my peers was researching ginkgo trees and said that they are one of the oldest plants on Earth. Aldo Leopold talks about how trees are old and part of history in A Sand County Almanac: “If one has cut, split, hauled, and piled his own good oak, and let his mind work the while, he will remember much about where the heat comes from, and with a wealth of detail denied to those who spend the week end in town astride a radiator” (Leopold 6). The heat has come from a tree that came into being hundreds of years before it was chopped down for wood. So far, the “new” ginkgo tree on my phenological trail is small, around ten feet tall, and definitely not mature. Leopold also mentions here how people who are more connected to nature such as people who cut their own wood, for example, are more appreciative of the resources nature provides us.
Stop 5: The Deceiver
Stop number five is not one of my favorites, but it is interesting nevertheless. When I first observed this tree, I thought it was a bush. It was round, short enough to the ground and had numerous trunks. However, as it went through its green-up phase, I was able to confirm my predictions and identify this plant as a Cornelian Cherry Tree (Cornus mas). This is because I observed tiny yellow flowers clustered on the branches during the first week I took note of this plant, and then by the sixth time I observed this plant, leaves were finally fully grown. They were football shaped and had numerous creases. The leaves were also a little wavy on the ends. Furthermore, the leaves were a blend of light and dark green which is probably because some of the leaves were newer compared to others. When making phenological observations, it is okay to not know what something is at first, because over time, as the plant changes, you will most likely be able to identify it.
Stop 6: Pinkie
I first identified the Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis), which is stop six, after I had already been travelling through my phenological trail for a few weeks. The week that I identified the tree, tiny pink buds appeared abundantly on nearly every branch. The buds were magenta and light pink and looked like little cones. They were also situated in bunches on the branch. Furthermore, there were no leaves on this tree yet. Something interesting about this tree was how long it took to produce leaves after the buds appeared (which was around three weeks) and where the leaves appeared on the branches. I wrote in my journal during my most recent week of observations that only the ends of the branches have leaves and that the little pink flowers, which were the result of the pink buds have shriveled up, turned brown, and mostly fallen off. Furthermore, it also did not look like there were buds for leaves where the flowers had fallen off towards the middle of the branches. It will be interesting to see if leaves do eventually show up in the barren spots throughout the remainder of summer.
Stop 7: Mr. Halloween and His Sidekicks
The fourth spot on my phenological trail is located in the historic McCormick Row House District. In this location, I have been observing a very large (30–40 feet tall) and very old Chinkapin Oak Tree (Quercus muehlenbergii)that has an incredibly spooky vibe and some crummy moss (Genus sphagnum) and some Bluebells (Genus Mertensia). The oak tree did not appear to have buds until the third week of observations and for the first two weeks, the moss was flattened possibly from winter and then in my third week of observations, the moss was torn up.
The oak tree perhaps took a while to bud because of something called the “chilling requirement” which is when plants need to be old enough for long enough before blooming (Hineline 112). The chilling requirement relates to how temperature affects a plant’s phenological pattern. By my sixth observation, the leaves were finally fully grown and were long, skinny, and sprouted from the branch like feathers. The leaves were flexible like fabric and blew in the strong wind, however, the branches of the tree didn’t move much from the wind. The leaves also seem to grow on the top side of the branches at the top of the tree.
Underneath the tree, the bluebells blew in the wind too. However, unfortunately similar to the moss, after the Bluebells bloomed — a periwinkle purple in the shape of a trumpet, perhaps these should be renamed to “Purpletrumpets” — they were cut. I suppose I can’t be too certain that they were cut, but during my fourth observation, all the stems looks to be sliced bluntly at the same level.
Stop 8: The Beauties
Stop number eight on my phenological walk is actually directly next to the seventh spot, however, the species growing here, in my opinion, are more beautiful than the oak tree and the moss. These species include the Star Magnolia (Magnolia stellata) and the Saucer Magnolia (Magnolia x soulangeana) which have blooms that look like white and then white-pink-magenta feather dusters accordingly, and the “new” Beauty Bush (Kolkwitzia amabilis).
Something interesting about magnolias is that while they were blooming, there weren’t any leaves on the tree yet. I also observed that the star magnolia bloomed, and produced leaves that took on the same shape as the flowers, before the saucer magnolia which reflects how “flowers develop in plants as a response to day length (or length of night), also known as photoperiod, or to temperatures” (Hineline 112). The star magnolia is positioned farther away from the buildings surrounding it compared to the saucer magnolia, which allowed the star magnolia to be exposed to more sun than the saucer magnolia. I discussed how flowering phenology is often correlated with both abiotic factors, such as temperature, moisture, and light conditions in my phenological inquiry where I focused on star magnolias and saucer magnolias.
Another finding that I looked into during my inquiry was that “A saucer magnolia is especially vulnerable to these unpredictable late freezes because it blooms so early, and its blossoms are very tender. If your magnolia’s blooms are blasted, there’s nothing to do except, like a Cubs fan, wait till next year” (Botts). The unfortunate event of the magnolia blooms freezing relates to the earlier idea of how flower phenology is correlated with temperature. In an ideal world, the green-up phase –when the flowering occurs in magnolias because magnolias produce flowers before leaves– would take place after the last freeze, however, because spring weather in Chicago is so variable, a freeze could happen any time or the temperature could warm up for a few days before plummeting again. I was happy that my magnolia flowers did not freeze this year, although, the risk of them freezing points towards their vulnerability to climate change as global warming produces more extreme weather. On the other hand, I also found that the saucer magnolia tolerates poor soil and air pollution (3 BL Blogs), which is going to be a beneficial characteristic as climate change also diminishes air and soil quality. I suppose it makes sense that these trees do well in Chicago’s urban environment as well.
And then to briefly touch on the “new” plant: As its name suggests, the beauty bush caught my eye as I was observing my magnolias because of the beautiful way the petals floated to the ground like snow. Originally, I thought it was a lilac bush, but upon looking closer, I saw that the inside of the white flowers were spotted yellow, which reminded me of the eastern cat-mint because of the spots. Furthermore, this is a large bush, larger than the star magnolia, and the branches seem to lean towards the “front” of this house’s yard. The leaves are dark green and football shaped with a seam cutting down the middle. The flowers are in clusters as well.
Stop 9: Craggily and Friend
Stop number nine, outside a different house in the McCormick Row House district, is home to a plant that went from “Hot to Not” quite quickly, and a little birdy friend. The plant, whom I named Craggily over time as I took observations is a Common Rhododendron (Rhododendron ponticum) and the little birdy is an American Robin (Turdus migratorious).
Craggily started off beautiful. When I first observed him he had vibrant pink, tropical-looking flowers: five flaky petals situated around the center of the bloom with their pistils stick out far and noticeable. Additionally in the first week, I noticed Craggily’s shape was kind of weird which probably meant that he hadn’t been trimmed and the branches have been left to grow towards the sun on their own. By the time I observed Craggily for the third time, the vibrant pink flowers had already begun to wilt, however, light and dark green leaves began to grow in their place. In my opinion, Craggily looks better with his flower coat not his leaf coat, but he has to go through the maturity phase every year to stay alive, so I guess he can be ugly for awhile.
During my fourth week of observations of Craggily, I noticed this little Robin hopping around and pecking at the ground, probably trying to find some food. It had a grey body and a burnt orange tummy, a yellow beak, black beady eyes with a white ring surrounding it, and brown legs. I don’t think there was anything unique about this robin except that it was kind of skinny. Perhaps it was a male, or a female that had already laid eggs. Birds do one of three things: make more birds, go somewhere that is good for making more birds, and staying alive long enough to do it again (Hineline). A different professor of mine who is a birder told me that Robins really only raise their first set of young per season, and then have those new birds raise the next batch as something like a practice round for when they are adults. It’s a helpful and productive system, I’d say.
Stop 10: Jeepers Creepers!
I was tempted to take stop ten out because it is not at all exciting, however, I already made the map and I didn’t want to have to remake it. Anyway, I stopped near this crawling ground plant one day near McCabe Hall because I thought it was an invasive species called oriental bittersweet. But, I think it is just Creeping Jenny (Lysimachia nummularia). I am having trouble identifying it fully as Creeping Jenny because it doesn’t have any flowers yet. On the other hand, the leaves are light green, almost yellow, and that matches. Hopefully once the flowers bloom, I’ll be able to confirm my prediction.
Stop 11: Saturn Devouring His Son
Finally, the last stop. At stop eleven, also located a landscaped area near McCabe Hall, are “Blue Angel” Hostas (Hosta sieboldiana) and one purple Hyacinth (Genus hyacinthus). Overtime, the hostas have overpowered the hyacinth to the point where after observing, or rather attempting to observe the hyacinth for the sixth time, it was covered up by the hostas. Originally, the hosta was a vibrant purple-blueish color and had petals positioned in a cone-like shape on top of the plant that eventually drooped over in my third week of observations. The stems of this plant look like grass which is an observation of spring plants that seems to be emerging as I look more closely at flowers on my walks. A few weeks after the hyacinth wilted, the hosta dark green and wrinkly shoots began to poke through the ground. And then in two quick weeks, the hostas were massive with large, dark green leaves that have numerous creases from the stem to the pointy tip. The leaves were also curved like parchment paper when you take it off the roll and try to put it on your baking sheet, however, they eventually began looser and less curved.
Conclusion
Because of these walks, I have begun to notice more about my natural surroundings. This remedy to “plant blindness” which is a term for being unable to see or identify plants in my environment (Hineline 108), has helped provide me with an intrinsic reward for making phenological observations. Making phenological observations are also important because these observations help ground climate change in everyday occurrences that happen in everyone’s dooryard. For example, over just a couple weeks I have begun to observe the phenological patterns of a variety of species and have speculated how aspects of climate such as photoperiod and temperature affects these changes. Speculating and observing helps create a sense of unity between yourself and nature, and in the words of Aldo Leopold, “When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect” (Leopold vii). All you have to do is observe, speculate, and belong, it’s that easy.
Works Cited
3BL Blogs: Saucer Magnolia: A Springtime Spectacular. Newstex, Chatham, 2017. ProQuest, https://ezproxy.depaul.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/blogs-podcasts- websites/3bl-blogs-saucer-magnolia-springtime-spectacular/docview/1927152183/se- 2?accountid=10477.
Botts, Beth. “Saucer Magnolia Tree’s Beauty often Cut Short by Spring Freezes.” Chicago Tribune, Apr 12, 2015, pp. 19. ProQuest, https://ezproxy.depaul.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/newspapers/saucer- magnolia-trees-beauty-often-cut-short/docview/1672351661/se-2?accountid=10477.
Leopold, Aldo, et al. A Sand County Almanac: And Sketches Here and There. Oxford University Press, 2020.
Hineline, Mark L. Ground Truth: A Guide to Tracking Climate Change at Home. The University of Chicago Press, 2018.
