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At last, it's looking seasonal in St. Louis. The late freeze at Easter caused most trees to have to leaf out a second time, delaying our spring greening by anywhere from 2-4 weeks. So fall color has been delayed about that long as well.
We are enjoying the ruddy leaves on our little (well, it's now about 9-10 feet tall) ash tree that we planted on the city parking easement 4 autumns ago. This tree must not know it's supposed to have clear yellow leaves in fall. Or maybe it's not a white ash at all, but another mystery species.
Family and friends who live elsewhere or who have moved away have been asking about The Maple. Here it is, as of this afternoon. Not as fiery as some years, but a landmark nonetheless. We are trying to keep the ground beneath all of our trees watered enough so that they will go into the winter with sufficient moisture to survive the cold. Not to mention the survival of the grass that grows beneath them!
Even our oak in front of the house has developed a deep red, appropriate for its red oak family status. I have seen various references to the transpiration rate of oak trees. One Internet source says that a mature oak tree can draw up to 50 or more gallons of water per day. Trees take up water through their root system. Some of the water evaporates from the leaves in a process called transpiration. A large oak tree such as ours can transpire 40,000 gallons per year. Acorn production was supposed to be lighter this year. After all, that Easter weekend freeze eliminated all of the blossoms and the clouds of yellow pollen that drift over the drive, walks and porch every spring. So we were as surprised as anyone (except maybe the squirrels) when acorns began falling all over the yard in September. That same Internet source said that oaks can take 20 to 50 years before they begin to produce acorns, and that in their prime, 70-80 years old, they may have thousands of acorns each year. Ours must be in its prime! It may not be a bumper crop, but it's a sufficient one, I think, to keep our furry-tailed friends from too much mischief with the bird feeders this coming winter. The continuing mystery is the immaculate conception of this crop, since as far as we could tell the flowers all died in the freeze and the tree didn't bloom a second time. Hmmmm.
Today was clear and mild, so Norm and I avoided housework and took a drive to one of our favorite places, Riverlands Bird Sanctuary near Alton. We also went on to the Confluence, as I described in the post before this one. The Riverlands is on the Missouri side of the Clark bridge across the Mississippi at Alton. It is a Corp of Engineers project that was established when the Alton Lock and Dam on the Mississippi was relocated a few years ago.
This calm bay is on the west side of Ellis Island, separated from the main river channel. We had heard this past week that the White Pelicans had arrived, so we went to see them for ourselves. These guys breed in the northern plains up into Canada, and they winter on the Gulf coast, including Florida. This flock of about two dozen was one of three or four that we saw as we drove around the refuge. The American White Pelican is a huge bird, larger even than the Brown Pelican that is a year-round Gulf resident. They can be over 5 feet long and have a wing spread of 9 feet. We saw groups of three or four drop out of the sky, circle, and then come in to land like miniature fighter planes. Unlike the Brown Pelicans, they don't dive; they dip their bills and dine on fish while swimming. Sometimes we have seen them here as late as January if the winter is mild, in flocks of several hundred.
Along the shore we found these flowers blooming. As near as I can tell, they are some variety of daisy or aster, commonly called Sneezeweed. Except for the occasional dandelion, I haven't seen any other wildflowers in bloom in November in the Midwest before!
Today was so beautiful, we headed out in late morning to visit the Confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi rivers, located about 20 miles from here. The confluence is in a state park that opened about 4 years ago. The spot we visited is shown in this aerial photo from a brochure about the park. We were at "the point." It's about a five mile drive down a gravel road and definitely worth it.
The road to the confluence traverses fields in a flood plain between the levees, but right at the point, the wooded area frames striking views of the water. Today the light streaming through these tall trees, still refusing to lose their green, was almost ethereal. As usual, Norm kept walking when I stopped, which was great; I got him in a picture finally.
On this side of the point, the Missouri flows swiftly and is often muddier than the Mississippi. Some river experts say that the main river is really the Missouri; the Mississippi is the secondary one. The Missouri is longer and drains more area, they say. At the confluence, the Missouri retains its agricultural look, with its banks unmarked by any kind of industry.
The Mississippi, on the other hand, is full of barges and tows on this day, and the far bank is lined with light industry and ports. It's the busy highway of commerce from Minnesota to New Orleans. By the time it reaches New Orleans, the brochure says, it will be 3 miles wide and 100 feet deep, and moving an unimaginable amount of water every minute into the Gulf. Today it looks a little less muddy than the Missouri, but not much. Having stood at the headwaters at Lake Itaska, Minn., some 7 years ago, I always marvel at what that tiny stream has become when it reaches this point north of St. Louis.
Below is the view we came to see, the meeting of the waters of two mighty rivers that between them, drain 40 percent of the land area of the nation. Sunlight dances on the ripples formed as the two currents slam into each other and begin to mingle on the way downstream, past St. Louis, past Memphis, all the way to New Orleans. Lewis and Clark camped across the water from this point the first winter of their expedition.
At last, it's looking seasonal in St. Louis. The late freeze at Easter caused most trees to have to leaf out a second time, delaying our spring greening by anywhere from 2-4 weeks. So fall color has been delayed about that long as well.
Family and friends who live elsewhere or who have moved away have been asking about The Maple. Here it is, as of this afternoon. Not as fiery as some years, but a landmark nonetheless. We are trying to keep the ground beneath all of our trees watered enough so that they will go into the winter with sufficient moisture to survive the cold. Not to mention the survival of the grass that grows beneath them!
Even our oak in front of the house has developed a deep red, appropriate for its red oak family status. I have seen various references to the transpiration rate of oak trees. One Internet source says that a mature oak tree can draw up to 50 or more gallons of water per day. Trees take up water through their root system. Some of the water evaporates from the leaves in a process called transpiration. A large oak tree such as ours can transpire 40,000 gallons per year. Acorn production was supposed to be lighter this year. After all, that Easter weekend freeze eliminated all of the blossoms and the clouds of yellow pollen that drift over the drive, walks and porch every spring. So we were as surprised as anyone (except maybe the squirrels) when acorns began falling all over the yard in September. That same Internet source said that oaks can take 20 to 50 years before they begin to produce acorns, and that in their prime, 70-80 years old, they may have thousands of acorns each year. Ours must be in its prime! It may not be a bumper crop, but it's a sufficient one, I think, to keep our furry-tailed friends from too much mischief with the bird feeders this coming winter. The continuing mystery is the immaculate conception of this crop, since as far as we could tell the flowers all died in the freeze and the tree didn't bloom a second time. Hmmmm.
