First fruits

There is a hemlock tree on Factory Brook in Cornwall with bark that looks as if it’s been gone over with a giant rasp. The outer bark has been chipped away like kernels on an enormous cob of corn, with the bits lying in a great heap by the tree roots. The tree will survive, and so will the very satisfied porcupine that feasted on its soft inner layers.There are many creatures that browse on woody plants, especially at the end of winter. Deer do this in such dramatic fashion that when their numbers are high they can crop a browse line in the undergrowth as straight as a gardener’s shears. As the buds of Norway spruce start to soften,any red squirrels in the neighborhood will buzz through the branches and leave a carpet of 4-inch spruce tips below.Some of the earliest green edibles arrive at this time as well, and reward the alert forager with the fiddleheads of ostrich fern and the bitter leaves of wild leeks. You can find both of these species in wetland soils and moist woodlands, and both are well established in my own gardens.Many of the greening plants in our woodlands are invasive shrub species, such as the Asian honeysuckles and Japanese barberry that proliferate where old fields succeeded to woodlands and along the forest edge. The deer avoid the thorns of barberry, so they don’t provide forage; and these invasives shade out other plants that take longer to respond to the pale spring sunlight. This is a great shame, for where they are well established these aggressive, non-native plants outcompete our early spring wildflowers as well. The next two weeks should produce the blooms of Dutchmen’s britches and trillium, and dog-toothed lily with its trout-specked leaves. You can eat the leaves of trout lily, as it is also known, but I seldom do, preferring to enjoy their slow and steady presence in the woods where I find them. It takes one of these plants seven years before it matures enough to flower.Spring is ephemeral, like the buds of spruce or the blooms of a dog-toothed lily. Its offerings are sweet on the eye and astringent on the tongue. They awake the senses, and stimulate a riot of herbivory by beast and bird alike. Ants swarm at the drill holes of woodpeckers and the mourning cloak beats its ragged wings in the greening world. Tim Abbott is program director of Housatonic Valley Association’s Litchfield Hills Greenprint. His blog is at greensleeves.typepad.com.