Common Speedwell, by Andrew Henwood

The park at Brown’s Point, on the Niagara Parkway, is particularly rich in wildflowers; I suspect the hand of man, in the persons of the Niagara Parks Commission, has had quite a bit to do with that. They have been gradually restoring various sections of the Niagara River bank to retrieve as far as possible an original ecology. They have done pretty well.

It’s early days yet – lots of green, not too much colour, but I was pleased to find that the Dame’s Rocket was making a brave show in patches in the woods throughout the area. Also, I was brought up short by a frothy white flower, False Solomon’s Seal, Smilacina racemosa. Against the deep, dark forest background, these two large species make a wonderfully rich display.

But that’s not what I came to talk about today. When I got to Brown’s Point I got off my bike to take in the view across the river for a moment and, looking down, noticed a tiny delicate lilac-coloured flower, making a cushion at the foot of a tall maple tree. Now I should tell you that, despite the seven decades I have spent upon this earth, I am still not familiar with even some of the commonest wildflowers, so I picked a little sprig of this plant to take home and identify. It was Common Speedwell, Veronica officinalis.

The whole plant is very small, only about five inches high, and the flowers tiny, so I had to put my sample under a magnifying lamp to sketch it. Examined this way it really is spectacular. Delicate lilac-coloured flowers with fine purple stripes along the petals decorate long-stalked upright racemes.

So now I must admit to breaking one of the guidelines so gently suggested by Kate – that we should try to illustrate our contributions here with sketches that are done on the spot: in Nature, not from Nature. I could not do that in this case because of the need for magnification. I sketched the plant at twice life size. I apologize for inaccuracies in my drawing; you will find them. I took insufficient time to properly study every component of the flower before going ahead with my painting.

The Grey-headed Coneflower

After a few days away visiting old friends I got back on the bike yesterday for my usual ride – to my usual destination.

At the north end of Brown’s Point Park the trail branches. From a somewhat inconspicuous entry the alternate path wanders through deep, cool woods before emerging to rejoin the main track half a mile further along, at the southern end of the park. The trail forks just immediately before the little stream which shelters a variety of wildflowers along its banks. As I approached the turnoff, flashes of gold caught my eye from along the lower route so I paused, then turned left to check it out, thinking it was probably another clump of Oxeye. But as I drew up to this group of plants lining the wayside ditch I could see right away that this was something different: neither flowers nor leaves resembled the False Sunflower which had made itself at home on the other side of the streamlet.

Some of the plants were quite seven feet high. On the fully opened flowers brilliant yellow rays drooped right down below the prominent pale green crowns. The stems were long, with well-spaced alternate leaves. The larger leaves lower on the plant were deeply divided and delicately toothed.

I extracted ‘Newcomb’ from my saddlebag and soon discovered the identity of this commanding species. It is the Grey-headed Coneflower, Ratibida pinnata. A most beautiful and interesting wildflower, well worth sketching.

So early this morning I retraced my route, armed with just my smallest paintbox and a bottle of water. Generally, when heading out for a ride, I don’t prepare in a particularly methodical way. By default I take my little camera and usually my recently acquired (now dearly loved) wildflower field guide. I may carry a notebook and pencil or a small sketchbook. I only take watercolours when I have already identified what I want to paint. This habit has a healthy side effect: by forcing me to retrace my route soon so as to take a sketch of a newly discovered flower before it is over, I get twice the exercise!