Wild Gifts

The mountain has been generous lately.

We’ve had quite a bit of rain over the past few weeks, which means it’s probably time to head into the woods and look for chanterelles. The apples along our road are well set this year, although they’ll need another month or so before they begin dropping.

In the meantime, there are plenty of wild gifts close to home. This summer I was especially delighted to find several familiar volunteers taking up residence in the flowerpots on my deck.

Every spring I fill a handful of pots with geraniums and a few other flowers for color—and, just as importantly, for the hummingbirds. This year, however, one pot was unexpectedly claimed by purslane (Portulaca oleracea), a crunchy little succulent that’s one of my favorite wild greens. It’s delicious tossed into salads, and this particular plant has grown so vigorously that it’s nearly evicted the poor geranium.

Another pot produced a healthy patch of heal-all (Prunella vulgaris), another welcome volunteer. The young leaves are good fresh in salads, the plant can be cooked as a pot herb, and it’s also traditionally used for teas and salves. I always enjoy finding useful plants that decide, entirely on their own, where they’d like to grow.

And finally, a bonus neighbor.

One of my all-time favorite mountain residents is the Eastern ringneck snake. This one is full-grown, but even as adults they’re small, gentle, and wonderfully secretive. They spend most of their time hidden beneath rocks and logs, emerging to feed on earthworms, slugs, salamanders, and small lizards.

An Eastern ringneck was the very first snake I ever encountered after moving to the High Country, and I’ve had a soft spot for them ever since. I still think their bright yellow-orange necklace is one of the most charming markings on any of our native snakes.

And because no one can have too many tiny snakes, here’s a video of an impossibly small baby ringneck making its way through my fingers. Watching something so perfectly miniature navigate the world never gets old.