Geek out with me about critters and plants on a mountaintop in Virginia. I’ll share what I’m learning as I try to bring native plants back on 200 acres of old farmland and tell stories from my encounters on the mountain.

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In this issue

• Field notes: It’s a dry heat

• Signs of life: Cold calling

• Recommended reading

• Book news: !!!

• The Official Mountain Poodle

Field Notes

It’s a dry heat!

You may have guessed that the cactus flower in this month’s featured image is not growing on a mountain in the Blue Ridge foothills. I spent a few days in Death Valley National Park in November, and while exploring a quiet side road, I came across a blooming beavertail cactus. The internet tells me this cactus blooms until “early summer.” Early November is not exactly summer, even though it may feel that way in Death Valley. The daytime temps at that time reach into the 90s—but it’s a dry heat! Only 15 percent humidity (drink lots of water—and moisturize!). Of course, that’s nothing for Death Valley, where summer temps can easily hit 115 degrees.

The beavertail is a type of prickly pear, and in fact there are three species of prickly pear that are native to Virginia. I wouldn’t have expected to see any of them on the mountain (and two of them are most common on the coast), but according to the Virginia Native Plant Society, it’s not impossible. The Eastern prickly pear can grow in shallow, rocky soil and on granite outcrops. Guess who’s got shallow rocky soil and granite outcrops in abundance?

This cute cottontop cactus is covered with a dense network of needle-like spines. (Yes, I touched them, but I was wearing gloves.) The cottontop gets its name from a cottony layer that’s left behind after it’s finished flowering.

I’d expected drama, but I wasn’t prepared for the variety: there were vast sand dunes, boulder-strewn slot canyons, sheer cliff-faces in a rainbow of colors, and a moonscape of borax mountains.

Slopes covered with plants all in silver gave way, suddenly, to a stretch of road lined with shrubs bursting with yellow flowers. It reminded me of chrysanthemum season in the suburbs. Well, a little. But mums aren’t native. These, on the other hand, are a desert variety of aster. (I’m still waiting on a definitive ID from iNaturalist, in case anyone knows.)

Rocks far outnumber plants, and many of those plants, like one of my favorites, the desert holly, are silver, rather than green. Desert plants often have tiny, flat leaves to limit sun exposure and water loss.

The leaves do kind of resemble holly leaves…

…if holly leaves were made of broken saltine crackers. In fact, the desert holly’s leaves turn white in part because of salt content. When water is scarce, the plant concentrates salt in its leaves, which then reflect light instead of absorbing it.

A low spot held water, once. Thirsty?

At the Mesquite Flat sand dunes, plants were few, but the networks of tracks in the sand told a tantalizing story about animal life in the desert. The sidewinder makes a trail that’s shaped roughly like a letter “J.”

I spotted fox, coyote, lizard, and jackrabbit tracks. (And human—what’s that in the lower left corner, above? Nike? Merrell?) But this tiny set of tracks stumped me:

Turns out it was made by a beetle.

Creosote is one of the more common shrubs growing in Death Valley. This one is hosting a creosote gall midge, which resulted in this interesting gall around the plant’s stem. There is a different species of gall midge for every part of the plant. When there are few species of plant available, it makes sense that insects would specialize by adapting to use different parts of the same plant, right? (Reminds me a little of Darwin’s finches. But “Darwin’s midges” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.)

The creosote bush has a few tricks up its sleeve, too. It has adapted to the scarcity of water by preventing other species of plants from growing nearby. This must work fairly well, because there is a creosote bush colony in the Mojave Desert that is nearly 12,000 years old. As old plants die, new “clones” grow from the remains.

The Mesquite Flat dunes seemed oddly familiar to me, and I found out why: they played the planet Tatooine in the original Star Wars.

Signs of Life

Cold calling

It’s not so bad to daydream about 90-degree weather in the desert when we’re facing down near freezing temperatures here on the mountain. Woke up to iced over windows and icicles hanging from the gutters for the first time this season. Too soon!

But as winter approaches, the mountain is anything but dull. The winter birds are making their presence known—white-throated sparrows and song sparrows popping up like popcorn in the dry meadow grasses where they’re busy searching for seeds. Winterberries planted around the house in November by Hill House Native Plants are doing their bright-red-berrying thing. Those “berries” are actually fruits, with seeds inside. Birds including wild turkeys, bluebirds, bobwhite quail, and cedar waxwing love to eat the fruit in winter. (But we can’t eat it—it’s poisonous.) In the spring, the plant hosts 40 species of moth.

This native yellow garden spider has been living on my package box for a few weeks. It’s about 3 inches long, including its legs. It unfortunately poses no threat to the stinkbugs that are still stubbornly lurking around my house, but what about UPS drivers?

Recommended reading

Right now, I’m reading a memoir that is perfectly aligned with a sojourn in the desert southwest. I hope it will transport me to a warm place (in my mind, at least) during the cold days ahead. Talking to the Ground by Douglas Preston is an oldie but goody, originally published in 1995. The author takes his fiancee and her 8-year-old daughter on a perilous, and often humorous, horseback trip through Navajo country, tracing the path of the Monster Slayer from Navajo lore. The author has a talent for self-deprecation (as when he’s trying to be cool around his girlfriend and promptly falls off of his horse), and the narrative never becomes tiresome. There are compelling conversations with Navajo people, including those who guide the group on their journey. The story of their adventures in iconic landscapes like Monument Valley and Canyon du Chelly alternates with chapters that relate the foundational stories and history of Navajo and other indigenous people. Highly recommend.

Book news

I’m an award finalist!

I’m thrilled and honored to announce that Bad Naturalist has been named a finalist for the Philip D. Reed Environmental Writing Award by the Southern Environmental Law Center (SELC). The award is given each year for a nonfiction book and a work of journalism to “celebrate writers who achieve both literary excellence and offer extraordinary insight into the South’s natural treasures and environmental challenges.”  The winners will be announced in 2026.

Book events in early 2026

Here are a few of the events scheduled for Jan/Feb. I’ll share more details as they become available. Please come out if you’re in the area, or consider attending a remote event.

• Revalation Vineyards in Madison, VA; Book World Meets Wine World, Jan. 23.

• Wing Haven Gardens in Charlotte, NC, Jan. 29.

• Haverford College Arboretum, with Narberth Bookstore, Haverford, PA, Feb. 10.

• American Horticultural Society, remote talk, Feb. 12.

Check my website event page, or my Instagram or Bluesky feeds for details about events, and for more interviews, podcasts, and features. If you don’t see your city or town on this list, please reach out, and I’ll see what I can do to get there!

Bad Naturalist is available wherever books are sold in stores and online, in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook formats. You can sample the audiobook here.

A special request

If you read the book in any format (and if you enjoyed it!), please post a review on the Amazon book page! It helps!

Tell me where you are and what you see this month in a park near where you live, or in your own yard or window box. Send me a photo if you like.

And don’t forget to tell me about your favorite nature-related book or podcast.

The Official Mountain Poodle

Sunset mountain poodle

Now’s a good time to subscribe for more mountain discoveries, book news, and the requisite poodle photos.

Thanks for joining me on the mountain!

Until next month—

Paula W.

P.S. The cover photo this month is a close-up of a beavertail cactus flower seen near Emigrant Canyon Road in Death Valley National Park.

Bad Naturalist: One Woman’s Ecological Education on a Wild Virginia Mountaintop

Now available in hardcover, audiobook, and e-book everywhere books are sold!

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