California is burning.
The smoke obscures my view of Lake Tahoe from our cabin on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I can also no longer see the distinctive snow cross on the flank of the 10,000-foot peak of Mt Tallac. The children cough and I rub my eyes. The smokiness invades our cabin, our clothes, our hair. Ash drops out of the sky. It is hot.
Again? Just last summer, the Angora fire burned within 4 miles of our cabin. This June, a massive lightning storm sparked 800 wildfires across the state- one of the largest is burning in the foothills about 100 miles from here.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so surprised. After all, heat and fire are predicted consequences of global climate change. Officials say that the unprecedented fire season, fuelled by drought and 100 degrees Fahrenheit temperatures, represents the most fires burning at any one time in recorded California history.
I see it, I smell it. I breathe it. I get it.
Discouraged, I walk barefoot outside to check on one of my favorite wildflowers- the Explorers gentian (Gentiana calycosa). It grows in a small meadow at the base of a massive incense cedar (Calocedrus decurrens). I see that the buds are just forming on the low leafy plants. Later this summer, the Gentian will regale us with exquisite showy masses of bright blue, yellow-spotted flowers.

I continue to the back of the house to a wooded thicket, where one-sided wintergreen (Pyrola picta), an evergreen perennial grows. Small and unobtrusive, with its flower buds perched awkwardly on one side of its single flowering stock, this tiny wintergreen seems as if it is to shy to join the party. But up close, I can see that this is no wallflower. Its buds are bell-shaped with beautiful pale green flowers.

Down the hill, under the pines, I see a patch of bright red. This is the solitary snow plant (Sarcodes sanguinea). Always the first flash of color after the snow melt, this stout fleshy plant is the joy of the children. It lacks chlorophyll so cannot make its own food through photosynthesis. Apparently it supplements its nutrient intake by at least partially parasitizing the roots of pine trees by means of a shared mycorrhizal fungus.

My favorite plants, those my family have seen each summer for over 50 years, appear to be fine. I am reassured. But what will the climate change do to these species? Now we have an answer and it is not good.
In a recent article in PLoS One, Loarie et al., assess the potential impacts of climate change on the native flora of California. They examine 8 different potential scenarios for the future of the California flora in the face of climate change.
They project that up to 66% of California native species will experience >80% reductions in range size within a century.
They find that the foothills of the northern Sierra Nevada are extremely vulnerable to species loss and that species in some mountainous areas will shrink in range.
These areas include the Gentian, the snow plant and the wintergreen.
Photos courtesy of Matt Below.
I just booked a flight to LA. That means fires are supposed to stop by Aug 8th. I am very sceptic about making predictions for the future of flora, is there any sensible way in which to control unknown factors?
I sure hope the fires stop soon. It is still pretty smoky up here. LA should be OK though.
We can’t control unknown factors. If they are unknown, then we wont know how to control them, right?
In contrast, there are many known factors that we may be able to control. For example, whereas climate change will slowly affect species range, rapid urban and agricultural development will certainly have even larger effects in some areas.
We can grow our crops and construct new buildings in the most efficient and ecological way possible.