Despite the fact that these native plants emerge every April, they're called May apples. And like so much in the plant world, it's spelled different ways - Mayapple, mayapple, may apple, May apple.
"April apples" might've been more accurate but perhaps that was too much of a tongue-twister. In any event, each year when I see them, they remind me of running through the woods when I was a kid. I can see it so clearly. I can even smell it - the moss, the trees and dirt.
May apples poke up like an unfurled umbrella, perfectly symmetrical and oddly colored. Once they're all unfurled, you can get down on the ground and look through them. It's like a crowded day at a very green beach - just crowds of umbrellas, no people.
They produce a pretty white flower under the leaves - I think that part comes in May - and later in the season, a berry - the "apple." We never ate the berry, but I picked a lot of the flowers, which can carpet the floor of a forest to wonderful effect. Imagine them in your garden.
These were spotted over at the Schuylkill Center, where we went for a quick hike. There wasn't a soul in the place. No human soul, that is. There were so many birds calling and chattering, it felt like we were in the jungle. I think I'd like to be a bird here in my next life - starting in May.
