A fondness for ferns

 Only spread a fern-frond over a man's head and worldly cares are cast out, and freedom and beauty and peace come in.  ~ John Muir

With this quote comes a vision of resting in a grotto on mossy rocks, arching ferns casting a delicate tracery of shadows below my feet.  Why are ferns so magical?  Is it because of folklore, its fractal-like intricate leaf patterns, or do we sense the ancient echoes of prehistoric environments?

Fern folklore
An old folklore belief is that because fern “seeds” were invisible, then one could become invisible when these seeds were eaten or carried.  Several inventive and amazing rituals were created to capture these elusive seeds.  An Irish legend reveals that ferns are flower- and seed-less because St. Patrick cursed them for harboring snakes.  The cross-section of the fern stem is said to bear the name of Christ, and thus provide protection from goblins and witches.  The shapes of fern spikes and the lobes of its leaves were thought to provide healing elixirs for snakebite (the spikes resemble serpents), and ailments of the spleen (resemblance to the organ).  More legends, wild myths, and wishful thinking is found in a fascinating text “The Economic Uses and Associated Folklore of Ferns and Fern Allies,” by Lenore Wile May in Botanical Review (Oct.-Dec.1978).

Fern leaves

A fractal is a “self-similar” pattern that repeats at different scales, and fern leaves often appear to be fractal-like.  They are not true fractals as fern leaf patterns do not repeat to infinity.  Drawing fern leaves is an adventure in patience and persistence!  Perhaps that’s why I created only a representation and focused instead on the furry rhizome and the wavy leaf margins of this Serpent Fern.  Ferns don’t produce flowers and seeds like the many plants we use for food, medicine, and decoration.  They have a complex reproductive cycle and spread by spores instead of seeds.  You can look at a visual image of this reproductive process here at ScienceLearn.org. 

A smaller leaf, only about 3 inches long.

Fern evolution

Ferns first appear in the fossil record 360 million years ago, but the ancestors of the species we know today didn’t emerge until over 100 million years ago, when flowering plants began to dominate many environments.  A researcher at Duke University in North Carolina has discovered a unique protein called a neochrome in ferns.  This protein enables them to respond to both red and blue light waves (both ends of the visible light spectrum) and enables them to thrive in the shade of other plants.   You can read more about his study and about ferns and this protein here.  

The fern I sketched is the Serpent Fern (also known as polypody fern, cabbage palm fern, gold-foot fern, or hare-foot fern), Phlebodium aureum or Polypodium aureum.

The scales on this root are a reddish golden brown -
red from the sun?

The scientific names derive from the Greek for:

phlebodium = full of veins
polypodium = many footed
aureum = golden (golden “hairs” or scales on the rhizomes)

This is an epiphytic fern, often growing in the “boots” (old leaf bases) of cabbage palms.  It’s found in Florida and ranges into Central and South America.  It has been studied at Massachusetts General Hospital, Harvard University, and the University of Miami School of Medicine as having chemical properties that protect our skin from damaging UV rays, something Florida has in abundance.  

More: American Fern Society 

A microscopic view of the sporangia

Top and bottom sketches:
Strathmore Toned Tan spiral sketchbook, 80 lb, 5.5 x 8.5 in
Sakura micron Pigma black 01ink pen
Faber-Castell Albrecht Durer watercolor pencils (walnut brown, white)
Sakura Koi coloring brush pen (sap green)
Niji waterbrush M

Middle sketch:
Aquabee Super Deluxe spiral sketchbook, 93 lb, 6 x 9 in
Various watercolor pencils
Niji waterbrush M

Resurrection Fern

At the bottom are two fronds (under clear contact paper) showing variability.

Resurrection Fern

Polypodium polypodioides

This tiny fern has always been a favorite of mine.  It grows in an epiphytic fashion, anchoring its wiry roots into the bark of trees with deep fissures, and receiving nourishment from the water and dust in the atmosphere using energy from the sun via photosynthesis.  The fronds of this fern are fairly small, but I’ve seen some that grow up to 3 or 4 inches. 

It’s called the resurrection fern because it has an adaptation that allows it to transform from a withered brown cluster of curled leaves to a vibrant unfurled green frond.  This adaptation allows it to survive long periods of drought until the rains come, which is helpful in south Florida, with our dry fall-winter-spring and our rainy summers.  Scientists tell us that resurrection fern can stand up to a 95% water loss without perishing.  Compare that to humans, who often find a 15% water loss a fatal event.

The curled, dry fronds, waiting for water.

I learned that this feat is possible because of a protein called dehydrin.  Dehydrin allows the cell walls in the leaf to fold when drying, in a way that can be reversed without damage.  As the fern dries, it manufactures dehydrin, turns brown, and stops photosynthesis.  When moisture is available, the fern takes water in through its stomata (tiny openings on the bottoms of leaves that allow for gas exchange), turns green, and begins photosynthesis once again. 

I’d always thought of it as native to tropical Florida.  Imagine my surprise to find out that these ferns range from Florida to Delaware and then west to Texas!  Not only is it native to the Americas, but it’s also native to Africa.  

A complex ecosystem in a small space.

This ink and watercolor study is of a live oak branch that fell to the ground after a rainstorm.  The branch broke into several smallish chunks, so perhaps it was insect-damaged; my experience with oaks is that the wood is very strong.  I loved the interplay of texture and colors in this tiny universe of lichens, mosses, bark and fern.  Once again, sketching a subject led me to ask questions and then to start

researching.

Needless to say, scientists are studying the property of dehydrins, which could have many applications.  Did you know that resurrection fern has gone into space?  It was the subject of a 1997 experiment on board the space shuttle Discovery.  To read more about this fascinating plant, visit the hyperlinks within the text or listed below.

As always, thanks for visiting!

The sketch was done in my:

Aquabee Super Deluxe  spiral-bound sketchbook
9x6 in, (22.86 x 15.24 cm), 93 lb. paper
Sakura Micron Pigma pen 01,
Daniel Smith watercolors.

Resources:

Wikipedia on resurrection fern 

NationalWildlife Federation

Floridata 

Paper on Poly in space  

Time lapse YouTube video of resurrection fern coming back to life

Wikipedia on dehydrin

Bracken fern

(Click on the image to view larger)

I have a fondness for ferns; they grow in secret spaces, in unexpected places.  This is a partial piece of a bracken fern that I sketched with my Pitt pen (S size) in a sketchbook I received for Christmas.  I don’t know what kind of paper it is – but it’s silky smooth and takes pen marks well.  I added some light watercolor washes to show the varied browns of the dried frond. 

Ferns are fascinating in themselves, especially their reproductive cycle.  They are also a visual treat: lacy, intricate, unfurling in a spiral pattern.  Although not a true fractal because they are finite, the repetitive pattern of ferns is a good example of natural fractal patterns.  

Fractals are patterns where the parts are the same or similar to the whole.  For instance, in my drawing you can see that the pattern of the tip repeats in the branching leaflets.  The whole frond resembles the leaflets, as you can see in this photo from the University of Florida. Needless to say, this makes drawing a fern a bit mind-bending. 

Bracken ferns like to grow in open spaces; I sometimes see them on roadside and woodland edges.  Bracken fern is common, occurring throughout the world.  It has been used by humans for multiple purposes, including food.  The fiddleheads (unfurled baby fronds) are eaten regularly in Asian cultures. 

Although bracken fern contains a carcinogen that often causes cancers in livestock, cooking and/or soaking the fiddleheads in water reduces the risk to humans.  A caveat:  the carcinogen, ptalquiloside, varies with fern populations.  Always research thoroughly and know exactly what you are eating and how to safely prepare it; older ferns should be avoided entirely. 

Other past human uses for bracken fern include: fibers for basket weaving, starch from the rhizomes for flour, medicinal teas and decoctions for ailments such as chest complaints, headaches, and burns.  It was also used for thatch and kindling, livestock bedding, and for dyeing cloth and fibers. Despite a tendency to become invasive, bracken fern is not only a beautiful plant, but a useful one as well.

 

Ferns along the boardwalk

Only spread a fern-frond over a man's head

and worldly cares are cast out,

and freedom and beauty and peace come in.

~ John Muir

Patterns in nature have always intrigued me. I focus my camera on a rock or tree bark while others are taking photos of landscapes! While walking on the boardwalk at Freedom Park the other day I was captivated by the fronds of swamp ferns and the patterns the shapes and shadows made. The ferns were lush and a gorgeous shade of green in the late afternoon sun. A sense of wonder and peace fell over me as I mused on its beauty. The quote above by John Muir (the founder of the Sierra Club) captures those feelings in a few succinct words.

I tried to capture the scene in watercolor, but I’m not sure any painting could illustrate the moment. I had to stop my painting to go to work, and when I came back to it, I decided that I liked the unfinished look of it. Somehow I felt that the light area at the bottom reflected a sense of the luminous radiance of light on leaf. Last week I participated as a visiting artist for a local summer camp, and while looking through my sketchbook, one of the children asked if I was going to finish my cormorant pencil sketch. I explained that I had decided that it WAS finished, and that it was okay to leave things a bit wanting.

That interaction started me thinking about the artist’s role as an editor. Sometimes I am so wrapped up in the details (you know me!), that I forget to let the viewer participate. I like the idea of inviting someone into a drawing or painting and letting him (or her) finish the story, so to speak. Having the outside world intrude and limit my painting made me think of other limitations as well. Limitations from the inside (as we edit the things in our drawings), as well as limitations from the outside (not having time or the right paint or color or paper) pushes us into the realm of creative problem solving.

Limitations can be our opportunity. When money and time for art are scarce, we learn to use the materials at hand or invent new ways to create. We learn that a quick drawing from the car can be as rewarding as a hour at the drawing table. Sometimes the limits come from my own expectations – when I’m disappointed in how a sketch turns out or I’ve overlooked a glaring error in perspective.

I’ve found that once I’ve reached that point, a shift in my thinking takes place. Since the art is not what I visualized and therefore “wrong”, I feel much freer to experiment since I can’t possibly make it worse! I open up creatively; the limitations have vanished. And another shift happens...many times (not always!) my willingness to experiment results in a piece that works and has more meaning.

Do you have experiences like this? How do you problem solve in life or as an artist?

Resurrection fern

Resurrection fern, originally uploaded by Elizabeth Smith.

A captivating little fern found throughout Florida, resurrection fern is named for its ability to transform withered brown tangles into vibrant green fronds after a rain. The small fronds are variable – these are about 4 to 6 inches long, including the stem.

These fronds were found on the ground, I’m not sure if they were dropped there by birds, squirrels, or a landscaping crew. Normally they grow on the rough bark of trees such as oaks or cypress, either on the sides of the trunk or higher up in the canopy.

Below is a watercolor sketch of a patch of resurrection fern I did two years ago, showing how thick it can grow. The fern does not hurt the tree it lives on, but gets nutrients from the air, much like other epiphytyes.

You can read more about resurrection fern here from the University of Florida.

You can click on the images above to view them larger on my Flickr photostream.