One of the first wildflowers to cover the mountains here in Spring, is the
Dog Tooth Violet. But there weren't any growing near our home, so two years ago I attempted to dig some up and transplant to a shady area beneath some pines in our yard. It was a good deal more challenging than I expected....because I had to dig
really deep to coax the bulbs from the rocky soil, and it was difficult to lift them without breaking the roots. I wasn't at all sure that it would be a successful endeavor.
I am happy to say the operation was a success! Shown above is a close up of this cheerful yellow wildflower....growing in my very own yard.
They aren't very thick yet, like the ones on the hillsides, but I am hoping they will naturalize and spread, to cover the area. I do so love their appearance in early Spring, signaling the change of seasons.... and I am especially glad that I can now see them from my kitchen window. :-)
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DOG'S-TOOTH VIOLET, Erythronium dens-cani
OBSERVERS of plants who endeavour to understand their names have usually a tough, task before them. Many names, indeed, carry their meanings in their faces, but many have no meaning at all; and, again, many are founded on such subtle distinctions or fanciful notions that it is not in the plant but in the mind of the no-menclator that we must seek for the coveted explanation. But whatever the vices of botanical terminology, there are many reasons why names intended to be descriptive should be founded on obvious characters that are displayed above ground. Here is a dog's-tooth violet, and the inquiring amateur may be led to search leaves and flowers for some resemblance to the dog's-tooth moulding that so often occurs in architecture, and may conclude at last that the spots on the leaves shadow forth the resemblance. But the dog's tooth is underground, and we must dig up the plant to make a proper study of its name. The bulbs of the plant are white, and in form not unlike dog's teeth.