Within minutes of hitting the trail at the Perry Natural Area in Stonington last week, our group approached a broad swath of princess pine, an evergreen groundcover that resembles a grove of miniature pine trees.

“Look at them all!” Maggie Jones exclaimed, stooping to examine one of the tiny plants. Princess pine, formally known as lycopodium obscurum, is a clubmoss that brings a verdant splash to barren woodlands this time of year.

Princess pine and many other clubmosses have another flaring quality: Their spores ignite so explosively they once were used as flash powder in photography, fireworks, theatre productions, magic acts and chemistry labs. Native Americans also burned them during tribal rituals.

Seeing the plants triggered a memory from my junior high school days, when Mr. Thomas, our science teacher, conducted an experiment that I’m sure would never be allowed in classrooms now.

He filled a cup of lycopodium powder and placed it inside an empty paint can, next to a candle. The cup also was next to a hole drilled in the side of the can, to which a bicycle pump hose had been attached.

Mr. Thomas then lit the candle, carefully placed the lid on the can, stood back as far as the hose stretched, and plunged the pump handle.

Kapow! A column of flames shot up about six feet and blew off the lid, which nearly hit Mr. Thomas in the head. Awesome!

I don’t recall what the experiment was supposed to prove, but I do remember thinking: Where can I get some lycopodium powder?

Don’t ask how, but a couple buddies and I managed to procure a small amount, rigged up a paint can/bicycle pump/candle apparatus, and repeated the experiment in my basement one afternoon when my parents weren’t home.

Kapow! Flames wound up singing the ceiling before we were able to extinguish them, which is exactly why this experiment should never be shown to teenage boys.

Happily, new illumination technologies have replaced lycopodium powder, so the plants no longer are harvested extensively.

Despite the Latin name obscurum, princess pine is a familiar sight throughout the Northeast forest. Because it takes so long to reproduce and is difficult to transplant successfully, you should never dig up princess pine. This rule applies to most wild plants.

While hiking a few miles on the Perry property, Maggie, Phil Plouffe, Marco Barres and I also came upon another lycopodium, creeping Jenny, which resembles princess pine and provides the same welcome hue to seasonal drabness.

Avalonia Land Conservancy (ALC) acquired the 68.2-acre former farm homestead in 1982, and established a network of public hiking trails that pass extensive stone walls, cairns and foundations, as well as a cemetery with graves dating back to the early 1800s.

While many stone constructions appeared to be of colonial origin, doubtless others were built by indigenous people long before Europeans settled here in the 17th century. The property, on the east side of North Anguilla Road, is close to Pequot Trail, a busy thoroughfare that follows a former Native American footpath.

After hiking a couple miles at the Perry property, we drove a short distance to the Fennerswood Preserve on North Main Street, to ramble a couple extra miles. That’s one of the many rewards of ALC ‘s admirable record of land-preservation – you can easily tack together two or more short hikes, in close proximity.

Following a trail on the west side of the road, we passed through woodlands, along fields and rocky ledges, arrived at a slab overlooking Stony Brook, and then retraced our steps.

More information about the Perry and Fennerswood properties, as well as other ALC preserves, is available at alc.org. The conservancy has protected more than 4,000 acres of land in eastern Connecticut.

More information about how to conduct a lycopodium powder experiment is available … uh, no, don’t try this at home.