| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||
![]() |
|
|
|
|||||||||||||
| |
|
|||||||||||||||
| |
|
|||||||||||||||
|
|
|
|
||||||||||||||
| |
||||||||||||||||
| |
||||||||||||||||
| |
||||||||||||||||
|
Western North Carolina wildflowers can be bright bits of color peeking out from under a woodland shrub: They are yellow lady’s-slippers. Or a glorious June profusion of purple on a mountain hillside: That would be Catawba rhododendron. They’re all part of North Carolinians’ distinctive wild heritage, says Joe-Ann McCoy, head of the Bent Creek Institute Germplasm Repository, a collection of plant reproductive material at the N.C. Arboretum in Asheville. The glaciers of the last several Ice Ages spared North Carolina, and as a result, the area’s huge variety of plants survived when much of the plant life disappeared elsewhere on the continent, she says. As far as plant diversity is concerned, “This is a very, very special place.” Descendants of those hardy Ice Age survivors are facing their own threats these days, as 21st century development replaces forestland and cash-strapped residents try to counter a shaky economy by harvesting wild plants themselves. But as the problems mount, official agency attempts to protect and perpetuate the plants are being joined by determined grassroots efforts, some by members of mountain-area electric cooperatives.
|
||||||||||||||||