Mineral

Day 230: As a young student of creative writing, I was keen to seize any new word for my lexicon and one day encountered "louring" in the works of some 19th century author. Although I was somewhat disappointed to learn that it was simply a variant of "lowering," it seemed to me to carry a different sense of meaning than the conventional spelling. I believe it was that word which spawned my later interest in semantics for it always lingered in the back of my mind, awaiting its moment to be placed upon a page. I found it here, in the skies above a pasture, and in the photographic treatment which gave them foreboding substance and weight. These are grey skies, not "gray" (another personal semantic distinction) and they are louring upon the hills.

Pink And Pretty

Day 229: The title is my defense. My aversion to the color pink is widely known, although I often qualify it by saying that some shades found in Nature may pass muster. Although pink roses leave me cold, the translucent pink of Columbine is ... well, let me go way out on the limb here and say "pretty."

Okay, I have an excuse. These came with the real estate. When I purchased my home, the flowerbeds were entirely grassed over and full of weeds. With the help of a friend, they were dug to a depth of eighteen inches and the soil was sifted through our fingers for root fragments. We discovered many tubers and masses, some of which were replanted in the hopes that they might be desirable perennials. Among them were peonies, delphiniums and columbine. For the most part, the latter turned out to be pink. Sigh.

I've learned to live with pink in my garden and yes, even to enjoy it. After all, they were here first.

Rhododendron Heart

Day 228: I spent a large portion of the day with my 90-year old fishing buddy and his wife today. He is struggling with a number of health issues (not surprising at his age) and I know too well that my time with him is in short supply. He is a jewel of a man who married his childhood sweetheart and raised two daughters well. The girls are my age, and often they refer to me as their "other" sister, yet it is he and his wife to whom I am closest.

Today, our scattered conversations dwelt on family and fishing, on birds and flowers, on a projected Father's Day dinner and on the priceless commodity of friendship, as tender as the heart of this rhododendron which was blooming in their yard.

In Memory Of Daddy

Day 227: My father passed away at the age of 39, of health complications which came about as a result of the conditions he endured during four years as a Prisoner of War in Manchuria. His favorite flower was the Peony, his favorite color the bright red shade shown here. It is circumstantial that the Peonies come into flower near Memorial Day in the United States, but were I closer to the spot where he is buried, I would lay each and every bud upon his grave.

Centaurea Montana, Bachelor's Button

Day 226: Whether you call it Cornflower, Bluet or Knapweed, Centaurea montana is a sight familiar to almost everyone. Once only a domestic, it escaped our grandparents' gardens easily and naturalized in a variety of environments. It is a perennial, unlike its smaller cousin Centaurea cyanus (also known as Ragged Robin), and is much enjoyed by butterflies. It is often found growing along the side of the road in western Washington and in fact this plant was "lifted" from a verge of hard-packed, dry soil to be added to my garden. It has entertained quite a few Swallowtails during its tenure, as well as the occasional ant. Look closely!

Lonesome Line

Day 225: Some years ago, I was driving along in the early winter when the leaves were gone from the deciduous trees and caught a glimpse of an old wooden railroad trestle set in the valley of a small creek. I made a mental note of a spot where I could pull off some day when I had the camera in the car, but it was some time before I actually got around to doing the deed.

A few weeks ago, I stopped again in a pouring rainstorm and was shocked to discover that the quiet little stream had carved a much deeper channel during recent floods. The trestle was still standing, but other portions of the line have been washed completely away. Thus it was that I decided to come back again with the tripod to do justice to this old structure while it is still standing. The image you see above is an HDR merge which used one black-and-white photo and two sepiatones. The processing restores a bit of the life this old bridge had in its heyday

Flamboyance

Day 224: With June just around the corner, it's time to start thinking about filling the hanging baskets on my back porch. In previous years, they've hosted various plants but none with quite the success of Petunias. I lack the patience to grow them from seed so recently purchased four starts each of two colors. Both varieties are veined, and I will mix magenta and deep purple in each basket, and then stand back to watch them tumble over the sides in lavish, luscious growth.

Mt. Olympus' Jealous Wife

Day 223: Legend tells us that many years ago, Mt. Olympus had two wives. The youngest wife grew jealous of the elder wife and one day she decided she would leave. She packed a basket with roots and berries to sustain her and set out on her journey alone. For many days, she travelled south, weaving among hills and rivers, and when she reached the bottom of Puget Sound, she turned inland. By that time, she was very weary and also hungry, so she stopped to rest and eat in a place we now call Yelm. When she set out again, she was careless and left the roots of the Camas plant behind. That is why the prairies of Southwest Washington are blue with Camas in the springtime. Mt. Olympus' jealous wife continued her journey, following the great Nisqually River. When she finally found the place where she wanted to make her new home, she spread out her skirts and became Mt. Rainier.

Today, I left my home at the hem of Mt. Rainier's skirt and made my own annual pilgrimage on my bicycle through the Camas prairies inadvertently planted by the jealous wife. Camassia quamash was blooming in profusion. These plants provided a staple food for the indigenous peoples of the area, the dried root being ground to make a floury meal. Because there is a very similar white-flowered species which is poisonous, Native women would tie the leaves of the edible variety together in springtime when the plant was in flower. That way, they knew which roots to dig in the autumn.

Hatiora Rosea

Day 222: A slip of this delicate "miniature Easter cactus" was given to me by a Norwegian friend some forty years ago. It took at least a decade for it to bloom for the first time. Its light requirements are somewhat uncompromising, so if I have left it too far back from the window as summer turns to fall, it will flatly refuse to bloom the following spring. Presently, it has only two flowers open, but almost every tip of the plant bears a bud. This looks like a good year for Hatiora rosea!

Evening Grosbeak, AKA "Porch Parrot"

Day 221: It is my favorite time of year for birdwatching. The Evening Grosbeaks have arrived in force. Coccothraustes vespertinus is known to those who associate with me as the "Porch Parrot", having earned its nickname while my husband and I were on a backpacking trip. He was not a knowledgeable birdwatcher by any means, and when he discovered fifty or so of these Robin-sized birds roosting in an Alpine Fir behind our camp, he came pelting back to get me. "Come quick! There's a whole treeful of parrots back here!"

The "porch" portion of the moniker was added when Mt. St. Helens erupted in 1980. Migratory, a flock was en route north when the mountain blew. They were knocked off their regular flyway by billowing clouds of ash and arrived on our front porch, many injured and badly burned. We could do nothing more than provide seed and water for them, but I believe many survived by virtue of our intervention. Each following year, the flock returned to the windowboxes looking for hand-outs of black-oil sunflower seed. In one record period of six weeks, they consumed over 500 pounds of seed!

When I moved, I left them in the care of a neighbor, so to speak. Each year, she reports their return. I have my own flock here at the base of Mt. Rainier, comporting with their Black-Headed cousins. They are well-fed and much enjoyed.

Within

Day 220: This is not your usual dandelion shot.

You see, if you were to look closely at those pesky weeds in your lawn, you might notice all kinds of things going on within their fluffy spheres. In fact, there were three pale chartreuse spiders inside this fuzzy ball, moving around among the spokes rather quickly given the circumstances. I suspect these spiders are not web-builders by trade; they have no need, concealed inside the dandelion's Einsteinian hairdo.

The next time you Big Bad Wolves are tempted to huff and puff (or mow, for that matter...we always need excuses not to mow), give some consideration to whose house you might be blowing down.

Corydalis Scouleri

Day 219: Corydalis scouleri is common in Western Washington marshlands. It resembles Bleeding Hearts (Dicentra formosa) in its growth habit and indeed may be found concurrently with it. The leaf is somewhat similar, that of Bleeding Hearts being more divided and lacy. This specimen was observed on the South Swofford Wetland Trail.

Water Ballet

Day 218: Water Striders (Gerridae) have fascinated children for eons. Their unique ability to walk on the surface of the water comes by virtue of thousands of microhairs on their legs and a joint system which permits them to distribute their weight in a manner which keeps them afloat.

Today, I decided I would drive up to Mt. Rainier National Park to see if the Calypso Orchids had emerged. They had not, so I decided to keep walking on a service road which led out into National Forest lands. There, the service road connects with a seasonal road which I believed to be closed. Sneaky, and I figured I'd have the place to myself.

As I was sitting on a favorite rock photographing the water striders, a truck went by. "Service personnel," I said to myself. "They're clearing the road so they can open it for Memorial Day." Another truck went by. Both of them were white. "Maintenance," I muttered to myself, a bit miffed at the abundant traffic.

There was a long pause during which time I shot some photos of the pond from various points along the shore and peeved a pair of nesting geese. When at last I decided to leave, I started down the road and a woman with a couple of kids in a station wagon whizzed past me, obviously not part of the road crew. Yep, they opened the road this morning! But I think the way I got there was more fun.

Mourning Dove

Day 217: Mourning Dove (Zenaidura macroura) is not common in my yard although each year I have a few. The gentle call of this bird could be mistaken for an owl-hoot, "Oo-oo-oooo, oo-oo-oooo," sometimes with two softer syllables preceding it. It is not a large bird (not as large as a pigeon), but often gives the appearance of being rather rotund due to the perching position in which it pulls its head down into its shoulders and puffs out its chest. In flight, it is slender with a tail which comes to a point. Its diet is more selective than a pigeon's, preferring to forage on the ground for seed.

Pine Siskin Pair

Day 216: Pine Siskin males and females look alike, but I suspect from the way these two were behaving that they are a mated pair. He always took the highest perch and would move toward her protectively if one of the Steller's Jays took off suddenly, and if you will permit me a moment of anthropomorphization, the look in her eye seems softer than that in his, more feminine. I took several photos of the two of them together, and the gentle glance is apparent in each. This shot was my favorite, showing her in the middle of a wing-stretch.

Chokecherry Time

Day 215: The Chokecherries are blooming. Favoured by the Evening Grosbeaks, the fruit of this tree is nothing a human would care to eat. It is also known as Bitter Cherry, a name which does no justice to its benefit to Nature nor to the beauty it brings to the eye when in full bloom. Bloom it does with a lavishness which is almost excessive, surrounding each branch tip in a cloud of white as leaves begin to emerge and unfurl. It is the burgeoning of May, and its petals fall like showers to be gone in June, having led summer to our doors.

Crow Mist

Day 214: A beautiful day and a pleasant hike at my back, I watched the clouds roll in yesterday evening, grumbling over the hills with thunder in their hearts, bearing a burden of rain which they were anxious to lay on the shoulders of the land. In fifteen hours, almost two inches fell, rattling savagely against the windows, marching in jack boots over the roof. It squalled through the night with a vigor which did not allow sleep at times, so loud was its ire, and when dawn broke, it abated only a bit as the rising light tempered its mood. It was one of our better storms, this: crabby and cleansing simultaneously; a storm we could enjoy from within.

Forget-Me-Not

Day 213: Tiny Forget-me-nots have a universal appeal. All subspecies of this plant were introduced from Europe to North American cultivated gardens whereupon it escaped into lowland meadows. This species (Myosotis sylvatica) is characterized by both blue and pink flowers. The seedpods take the form of small soft burrs with a particular affinity for hikers' socks.

Making A 'Down' Payment

Day 212: A couple of Tree Swallows were seen today making a "down" payment on their new home. This pair selected the house with the natural entryway, a Swallow-sized knothole set to one side and slightly angled.

When I purchased the lumber to buid these houses, I somehow overlooked the hole. Later as I was sawing boards to length, I was going to cut off and discard this piece until I measured the hole. It was 1.25" in diameter, the exact size preferred by this species. "What the heck," I said to myself, "the worst that can happen is that I have to replace it with a different front." The nesting box with the natural entrance has proved to be the secondmost favored of the rental units, the primary choice being the one with the northern exposure.

Swallows' nesting material consists of leaves and other plant fibers, all sorts of feathers and grass, cemented together with a sticky salivary secretion. The nest will be lined with down for softness. The parents will raise a single brood of four or five chicks and may return to the same site in subsequent years.

I Brought You Flowers

Day 211: The Tree Swallows were late in arriving this year, so now the rush is on to find spots to nest. There is much discussion on the wire, a constant chatter of "cheery! cheery! cheery!" and various chips, chirps and peeps. A great deal of to-ing and fro-ing goes on as prospective tenants assess the size of doorways, the exposure to light, the direction of the prevailing winds. Holes must be large enough to admit the parent bird but not enough to allow a parasitic species or a predator to invade, and we are discussing a matter of millimeters here, judged by expert eyes. It is often a tight fit, that entryway, one which takes jockeying of shoulders and hard pushing to enter or exit, but this is what the birds prefer. And there is much courting in the air with both members of the couples bringing nesting material to the chosen site. Nothing like flowers to soften the heart of a potential mate!

Black-Headed Grosbeak Male

Day 210: After having an abundance of Evening Grosbeaks early in the year, I had expected them to arrive en masse in late April, but to date, they have not showed up. That said, the Black-Headed Grosbeaks usually are the first Spring arrivals. I was encouraged yesterday when I spotted a solitary male at the feeder. He returned today, and while he was perched here, I caught another Grosbeak-colored blur out of the corner of my eye. The vanguard has arrived! It won't be long now before the feeders are filled with "porch parrots!"

Oregon Grape, Accented

Day 209: Oregon Grape, whether the low-growing variety or the tall species like this specimen, has leaves which resemble holly. The fruit, however, is purple and small, growing in loosely formed bunches. It is quite tart when eaten directly from the plant, but can be used to make a very satisfactory jelly. The bark of the plant was used by Native peoples to make a yellow dye for baskets. Both varieties (Mahonia nervosa and M. aquifolium) are common in western Washington. Now as for that hitchhiker, I didn't quite catch his name.

Pine Siskin, Carduelis Pinus

Day 208: The Pine Siskins have returned to my feeders in number this year after a long absence. Reportedly in decline in many areas, these birds were at one time very numerous here during the winter months. As members of the family of finches, their strong beaks allow them to enjoy a varied diet of seeds, but they prefer nyjer and black-oil sunflower seed. The yellow markings on the wings (not always present) are a good point for field identification as is a longer and narrower bill than that seen in other similar finches.

Raven

Day 207: Raven, the Trickster who stole fire from the Sun to bring light and warmth to the Earth, showed up today in a rare bright moment between rain showers. His glossy black feathers freshly washed, he took a moment to straighten them and then presented himself to the camera with a sidelong glance over his shoulder. Undoubtedly his mate is tending the nest while he seeks out food for her and their young. Soon there will be baby Ravens in my yard as has been the rule for many years. I am looking forward to their antics.

Cherry Blossom Time

Day 206: The acreage which is now known as the Rainey Creek Natural Area was once homesteads and farmland, part of the Cowlitz River's "Big Bottom" black-soil country. The richness of the soil was due in part to recurrent flooding, and when settlers moved to higher ground, their fruit trees were left to grow wild. In the vestiges of what once were yards and small orchards, you'll find apple and cherry trees as well as a wide variety of songbirds and animals as you walk along the trail system.

Purple Finch Male

Day 205: As Roger Tory Peterson describes the male Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus), the coloration resembles "a sparrow dipped in raspberry juice."

A sparrow-sized bird, Purple Finch occurs concurrently with the similar House Finch in all Pacific Coast states and New England year-'round, so it is important for birders (particularly those in these areas) to learn the points of field identification. Purple Finch males can be told from House Finch males by the blurry streaks on the breast and flanks. These are more well-defined on House Finch. The females of the two species are harder to differentiate. The female Purple Finch shows a stronger pattern of light and dark on the face and has a stubbier bill. Either species may be confused with Cassin's Finch in areas where two or more species occur. Cassin's males have a clear breast and the females show very crisp, sparse dark streaks on both the breast and the back.

Scotch Broom

Day 204: Although it is considered an invasive plant, non-native Scotch Broom (Cytisus scoparius) provides a flush of unsurpassed beauty particularly to western Washington's prairie lands. It resembles Gorse (Ulex europaeus) in both growth habit and flower, but lacks the thorns which make Gorse famous.

Non-invasive species of Scotch Broom have been developed over the years and are now used in many freeway plantings, dwarf varieties being very popular among landscapers. The odor is heady and unmistakable, and the flowers may range from a pale cream to a pinkish-mahogany, or yellow with a dark mahogany eye.

Trail Companion

Day 203: Of all the things I photographed today while walking the South Swofford Wetland Trail, I have chosen this image for my blog. Why? Because a walk on the Wetland Trail is not complete unless you find at least one snail pursuing his own journey.

For Mr. Snail, the traverse of several feet is the equivalent of the mile and a half I will travel from one end of the path to the other. He too will pause to investigate things along his way, if perhaps with a mind to their edibility rather than their beauty. And your narrator, like the solitary snail, will follow a route until it leads somewhere, heedless of time and putting aside the search for a goal for the simple sake of going to some undefined point, then turning in a new direction. A wise companion, Mr. Snail, who knows that the goal of life is to get from one end to the other in one piece.

Red-Winged Blackbird

Day 202: This Red-Winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) is in his first summer, as evidenced by the traces of yellow and brown in his body coloration. At maturity, he will be coal-black except for the wing marking which gives him his name. At that time, the lesser coverts on his shoulders will show a brilliant red underscored with bright yellow, particularly when in flight. A denizen of wetlands where cattails are numerous, "redwings" are found in almost every state although they are only present in summer in New York, Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire according to David Allen Sibley. The call of the Red-Winged Blackbird is a clear whistle or a melodious vocalization, "toe-toe-WHEEE-up" with some regional variation.

Rufous Hummingbird Male

Day 201: Days. And patience. Hours and hours of standing on the back porch, leaned up against the door, back aching, arms going to sleep because you've been holding the camera up for so long trained on the hummer feeder and your finger on the shutter button. Females come and go by the dozen, hovering, sparring, chasing, perching, posing as cutely as any photographer might want, but your files are full of female hummers in cute poses. You want that male, the guy with the beautiful rusty back and that bright red throat. He buzzes in from time to time, always dines at the port on the back side of the feeder so all you see are his wings fluttering and occasionally a watchful eye peeking around the side of the jar. "You still there?" he seems to say. "You're not going to get my picture today. You might as well give up." So you stand: freezing, cold, damp, aching, and you wait because you know this takes time and patience and an awful lot of sugar water. And then he comes to dinner when the light is low, dines at his leisure while you fire off shots which all prove to be too grainy in the end. The next day, you wait and watch in the cold, leaning up against the back door with an aching back and cramping arms. You wait a few hours, or so it seems, and after many tentative approaches, your waiting is finally rewarded as he perches. The light is right to catch his beautiful red throat and his rusty back. At last, Selasphorus Rufus (male) is in the photographic bag! Look at the cagy gleam in that eye!

Bleeding Hearts, Dicentra

Day 200: Today was such a lovely day that I decided I'd go explore a gated logging road which had been tempting me for some time. My goal was the summit of Dog Mountain, a peak which sounds more impressive than it is, although the road climbs rather steeply, gaining 1300' of elevation between parking and the summit. It is a popular spot for hang-glider enthusiasts who wish to launch themselves onto the updrafts arising from Riffe Lake. Thank you, I prefer Shank's Mare. After attaining the summit, I meandered down another spur road into a clearcut, a parched and open area exposed to full sun. What did I find there? Oddly, I found Bleeding Hearts.

This plant is normally a denizen of shady, moist areas. I was baffled. I walked a bit farther on and discovered...a clump of daffodils. Were both species the vestiges of a pioneer home's garden? Surely that must be the case. No other reason can justify either plant's presence on a dry mountaintop. From this pleasurable walk, I have brought home a mystery. One never knows what one may find down the road less travelled.