4,629 feet up - Max Patch Bald

Today I spent the afternoon in Madison County, walking the Max Patch loop. Max Patch, for those of you who have not experience it, is an Appalachian Bald, which is a mountain top that is completely barren of vegetation over six inches tall. From the top of Max Patch you have an uninterrupted 360 degree view of the Appalachian Mountains from Mt. Mitchell to the Great Smokies. The best part is, all the surrounding mountains are undeveloped. Oh they may have a house or two here and there, but it is a far cry from sights like Reynolds Mountain in North Asheville that is completely covered in million dollar mansions.
Max Patch is only one of several balds that top mountains in our region. The precise cause of these balds is unknown, but it is thought that seasonal forest fires may have originally left the mountains bald. It is known, however that many of the balds were used first by the Native Americans and then by the settlers to graze livestock and grow food.
For me, being on top of the world on a day like today was food for my soul. The first wildflowers I glimpsed as I dashed into the woods to heed mother nature's call (it's quite a drive from downtown Asheville) were Mayapples. None were in bloom and the leaves were quite droopy thanks to our late spring frost (see earlier post). But, nestled behind the tree I was using was a clump of sessile Trillium, none of which had opened yet, but bade well for my day on the bald.
The first half mile of the trip was exhilarating. With my two-year-old son on my back, I encountered several blanketed slopes of Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica) mixed in with Giant Chickweed (Stellaria pubera) which has the interesting characteristic of a five-petaled flower that looks like ten petals: the petals are deeply cut, making them look like two.
Then I saw it, a little yellow face nodding down with black freckles and petals that curl back up towards the sky: The American Trout lily (Erythronium americanum). A little cluster of the flowers, thick, mottled leaves covering the ground. I had thought I'd missed out on all the Trout lilies. Most of the ones down at my elevation in Asheville had already passed, but these were in full bloom. Later on down the trail, I came across a huge colony of the lovely little ladies, but most of the flowers had been spent and only a few solitary heads hung above the mottled leaves. I can only imagine what that hundred square feet must have looked like when all those beautiful flowers had been in bloom. Then, just a few feet past the Trout lily colony, I found a little outpost of Downy Rattlesnake Orchid leaves. None had flowers, but just knowing that the white, squarish-veined leaves would sprout Orchids made my heart flutter.
Needless to say, I enjoyed myself thoroughly up on that bald mountain. My son Jackson seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, though I can say he was markedly less interested in the flowers.