Unsung evergreen adds a splash of color to a dull winter world

Oftentimes, when winter is at its deepest, darkest and coldest, I’ll layer up, call the dog and march out to a small park at the edge of my neighborhood. It’s not much, really, just a handful of acres with an aging stand of pines, a corner patch of soft maples and a tangle of tall grass and fallen ash trees in between. That successional area, where the dead ash limbs moulder into the ground, is a wonderland of small animal tracks, scat piles and the occasional tuft of fur or feathers, which indicate that predator-prey relationships are in full bloom.

Aside from the pines, everything in the woods seems to carry some shade of white, brown or gray. Not a bad scene if you’re painting a winter watercolor, but a splash of bright green can do the soul a world of good in the dead of winter. That’s where the holly patch comes in.

I’m not so sure how the little grove of American holly got its start in the particular spot of which I speak — perhaps an errant Christmas wreath blew over from the nearby neighborhood decades ago — but it seems to be happy here. And while the canopy of silver maple, black cherry and cottonwood stretches skyward apace, the holly seems to be taking its time and spreading out through the understory.

As a broad-leafed plant, American holly (Ilex opaca) challenges the definition of evergreen that most of us learned as kids. We were typically taught to reserve that moniker for pines, spruces and firs that hold onto their needle-shaped leaves throughout the year. But holly, along with rhododendron and other similar plants, holds its tough, waxy “leaf-shaped” leaves through a two-year cycle, with new leaves emerging each year that ensure the plant remains “evergreen.”

Staying green is a clever survival strategy for a plant that often makes its home in the shade of faster-growing and ultimately taller deciduous trees. That green indicates the presence of chlorophyll that is either active or on close standby for any available sunlight it can use for photosynthesis — the production of food. And while the dark and dreary days of winter aren’t ideal for the process, as winter gives way to spring, the “fully clothed” evergreen can grab a big head start on its neighbors as they start from scratch to produce leaves.

That stretch in early spring may be the best sun of the season for the holly, and I’m grateful that it seems to have planned ahead. It offers a warm green reminder that springtime is just over the frozen horizon.

If you have comments on this column or questions about the natural world, write The Rail Trail Naturalist, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email jlorson@alonovus.com. You also can follow along on Instagram @railtrailnaturalist.