Buds in the Spring

Spring is a good time to think about buds.  Most of us are familiar with buds on the branches of trees and shrubs because they’re easy to see – and at this time of year, they begin opening and exposing new leaves and flowers.  Most prairie plants, however start their spring growth from buds at or below the soil surface.

Blossoms and buds of a wild plum. The flower buds have already opened, but the leaf buds are still tightly closed.

Before I go any further, I need to thank Jackie Ott, who provided the background information and photo interpretation for this post.  Jackie is a PhD candidate, and one of a group of researchers at Kansas State University who are working to learn more about the buds of prairie plants and the role those buds play in the ecology of plant populations.  Just as the collective seeds in the soil beneath a prairie is called a “seed bank”, the buds beneath a prairie can be called a “bud bank”.  Jackie and others are trying to find out how those bud banks work, and (among other things) how they help plants and populations respond to stress.  I’ve enjoyed several opportunities to learn about buds from Jackie and her colleagues over the last several years, and will write a future post about some of what they’re learning about bud banks.  In this post, though, I present a short introduction (with photos) on the belowground buds of prairie grasses and wildflowers.

Buds of sand lovegrass (Eragrostis trichodes) - one on the left and two on the right.

Buds are essentially packages of plant tissue full of cells that can divide very quickly.  They are usually protected from moisture, temperature extremes, and other damage by a thick waxy coating.  All of the buds on grasses are located below ground, so all growth comes from there.  When a grass is clipped or grazed off, it just keeps pushing the growth up from the original underground bud.  Forbs start their growth each spring from buds located near or below ground too, but they can also grow “adventitious” buds at any point along their stems.  When a forb is clipped, it can create a new bud near the clipped tip and restart growth from there.  If it is clipped too close to the ground, it may start a new stem from a belowground bud instead of from an adventitious bud.

Western yarrow (Achillea millefolium), showing belowground buds and roots. There is one big bud in the foreground, and another one (very white) in the background.

According to Jackie, more than 90% of the stems you see in a tallgrass prairie each year started as buds, rather than seeds, that spring.  Buds allow the “parent” plant to provide nutrients to the new stem and support its growth – as opposed to a seed, which has a limited supply of food in its endosperm and then is on its own to survive.

Large stacked buds on a violet plant. In this photo you can still see the shape of the bulky buds at the base of each of the existing leaves/stems.

If you dig up a prairie grass or forb, you can easily find the buds around the base of the plant.  Generally, there are multiple buds – each able to grow into a new stem if/when needed.  Those buds represent the ability of that plant to produce new growth each season, but also following a disturbance such as fire, drought, or intensive grazing, that forces the plant to restart its growth mid-season.  The larger collection of buds among all the plants in a prairie represents the prairie’s “bud bank.”  The capacity of that bud bank to respond during stressful conditions is one of the most intriguing parts of what Jackie and her colleagues at Kansas State University are researching.

Buds on a spiderwort (Tradescantia bracteata) rhizome. Rhizomes are underground stems that allow perennial plants to expand their reach by stretching out and growing new aboveground stems at some distance from the parent stem. That new growth, though, still has to come from buds - such as these.

All of the photos in this post were taken in an indoor studio.

A Quick Guide to Close-Up Photography (Macro Photography)

I’ve had a number of requests to post something on techniques for close-up photography (macro photography).  To keep long technical details out of a short blog post, I’m presenting some basic tips here and providing a link to a more detailed PDF document for those interested in it.

Carrying a camera with a good macro lens is a fantastic way to explore prairies.  I notice things I wouldn’t otherwise see when I’m looking for close-up photos because my mind has developed a search image for small objects.

This tiny katydid nymph is sitting on cutleaf ironplant. I never would have seen it if I hadn't been carrying my camera and looking for small things to photograph.

Rather than looking for specific subjects (such as dragonflies or violets) I try to look for things that are well-lit and have interesting colors/backgrounds/patterns.  Early in the day, I often work the edges between shadows and light, trying to find flowers or insects that are catching the warm light but have shadows behind them.  On bright overcast days, everything is evenly lit and saturated with color, so I look for appealing patterns and colors – but just about any subject is fair game.  I rarely pull my camera out on bright sunny days unless I’m documenting something.  The light from a bright mid-day sun is just like the color of the sun – harshly bright and colorless.

This Canada wildrye seed head is reflecting beautiful golden early morning light.

Close-up photography doesn’t require a lot of equipment, but an SLR camera with manual focus and aperture control, a good macro lens, and a tripod are all necessary items.  Slow shutter speeds (the amount of time the camera’s shutter is open) allow small aperture settings, which helps maximize depth-of-field (the amount of space, front to back, that’s in focus) – something that is very important when focusing in on small subjects.  In order to shoot with slow shutter speeds, it’s impossible to hold a camera still without a tripod.  It’s also difficult to use slow shutter speeds on windy days, so calm wind is a close-up photographer’s best friend.

This photograph of ice along a creek was taken at a shutter speed of 1/6 second - much too slow to hand hold (especially with shivering hands). A tripod was a must for this photograph.

The most important – and often overlooked – aspect of a close-up photo may be the background.  When photographing an insect or flower, photographers tend to focus solely on that subject and forget about what is behind it.  An errant grass leaf or stem has been the downfall of many otherwise very nice photos.  An experienced photographer is always conscious of what’s behind the subject, and knows how to make slight adjustments to the position of the camera to create the most interesting (or least distracting) background possible.

A bumblebee on pitcher sage. I positioned my camera to get the blurred sunflowers in the background as texture and context.

I’ve been lucky to have opportunities to share my photos with others through multiple avenues – magazines, books, slide presentations, and now this blog.  I enjoy being able to show people animals and plants they might not otherwise have seen on their own.  It’s also educational for me because I can’t identify many of the subjects at the time I photograph them, but a good photograph allows me the opportunity to research both the identification and ecology of those species later.  I’ve learned a tremendous amount about prairies just by photographing its small citizens.  If you enjoy photography but don’t own a macro lens, I encourage you to look into getting one – it’s a ticket into a whole new world.

For more photos and tips on macro photography, click to see a PDF of more detailed guidance (macro photography 2010) or a short article I wrote on the same subject for NEBRASKAland magazine back in 2007 (Macro-June2007).