Of Ramps and Ripeness

Our family of four is back in a familiar hardwood forest, adrift in a sea of ramps. While we expected early season conditions, we have found the patch in peak form, with dense clumps of enormous, glossy leaves. Eliana, who has recently acquired a taste for this exquisitely wild Allium, carefully picks a selection of leaves for her basket. Little Noemi – now a hiker in her own right – holds a pungent ramp specimen to her nose, a curious look on her face.

It has been a bizarrely hot and sunny April, and the ramp flush has been early and abundant. This spring ephemeral has a short timeframe in which to photosynthesize, and is dialed in to optimal soil temperature and sunlight. When early spring offers repeated 70-degree, sun-soaked days, the ramps must capitalize on this fleeting window before the canopy fills in. They cannot afford to miss this precious annual opportunity.  

A lone ramp seed.

Some of the plumpest ramps today look almost overripe, already fading to a paler green, while others are firmly in their prime. Blooming trillium and trout lily fill in a few gaps, adding splashes of deep red and yellow. But in this forest, in this fleeting moment, it is ramps that dominate the herbaceous layer. These odiferous native leeks have formed a piercing green, edible groundcover, elegantly occupying their singular niche.

April drought cannot last long. Rain turns to snow as I write, leaving a fresh dusting upon newly emergent fiddleheads in the village floodplain. Whatever the season may hold, the resilient ramps are already triumphant, filling the forest floor and our homemade empanadas.