Och, But No' A Haggis

Day 59: Regrettably, I was not reminded of St. Andrew's Day (Scotland's national day) until it was too late to hunt the reclusive and estimable Haggis. However, I discovered their lair last year and managed to snare two, round and plump, before the season ended. The larger of the pair was reserved for Robert Burns' birthday, when it was served in Capt. Morgan Corbye's cabin with steaming neeps on the side. And alas, I have neither bannocks nor baps to accompany my meager meal tonight, but the day shall not go without a nod and a nobbler in honor of my Scottish ancestry.

Planking - Chicken If You Don't

Day 58: I have my friend Richard to thank for the inspiration behind today's post. He brought up the subject of planking, so I decided to plank myself on his very doorstep, as it were.

Planking (per Wikipedia) is "an activity consisting of lying face down - sometimes in an unusual or incongruous location. Both hands must touch the sides of the body. Some players compete to find the most unusual and original location in which to play."

Planking is best done with an assistant manning the camera, however if none is at hand, choose your timer setting wisely to allow yourself time to get up before the police cruiser drives by, and be sure you have your cover story well rehearsed in case you've miscalculated.

Thanksgiving

Day 57: The girls will be bringing my fishing buddy out of the nursing center to spend the day in the bosom of family. We'll dine together, watch a little football, and then he'll nod off in his chair as old folks do, the younger people caught up in conversations he cannot follow. If he wakes, perhaps we'll talk about the fish we've caught, the hikes to mountain lakes, the people we've met and the adventures we've shared in our long friendship. We'll laugh again over the "shortcut" which took us five and a half hours out of our way and ran the gas tank down to fumes, and at the mishap which cemented us as piscine partners (on that day, I fell face-first into the lake). We'll speak of shad and surf perch, of lunker trout and nets filled with writhing smelt; the smell of tide flats and labor of digging mud shrimp will come to our memories in brighter, gayer colors than they wore at the time.

If I am to be thankful upon this day, it is for recollections such as these and the chance to re-live them with a man who has been as important to me as my own father. If, as I suspect, this is our last Thanksgiving together, I am truly thankful for the chance to be with him one more time.

I Need An Extra Pair Of Hands

Day 56: With everything I have to get done to be ready to ship Christmas prezzies some time in the next two weeks, I really need an extra pair of hands! Oh, I have the major stuff out of the way. This is the last-minute flurry of  projects which hits me every year in November. "Gosh, I should have made a ... for Patty, and I bet Mousie would like one, too."And so it goes.

I do my Christmas "shopping" early, which is to say that before Christmas 2013 arrives, I'll be started on projects for Christmas 2014 and may even have them finished up by January or February. No last-minute dashes to the crowded stores for me! But when November rolls around and the weather keeps me housebound, my mind strays to things I can do with my hands. Inevitably, that line of thought finds me browsing needlework catalogs, placing orders and stitching like a madwoman as I race against the calendar to create just one more gift for a special friend.

The end table beside my chair is piled high with the tools of the trade, various handcrafts spilling off the edges, the supplies I most urgently need becoming buried as a rotation between embroidery, knitting, crocheting and the like takes materials to the bottom of the heap. "That *$&% ruler is in here somewhere," I curse as idle double-point needles roll off onto the floor. "Where the #%*# is my stitch counter? I had it a minute ago."

Well, on that note, it's back to work I go! If I'm diligent, I can get that ... done before I go to bed.

A Study In Persistence

Day 55: Blooming in spite of a week of hard frosts, Viola persists. That alone should be enough to qualify it for the title "weed." I've tried to eradicate it from my garden, and it goes without saying that I have been unsuccessful in my quest. Still, you have to acknowledge the heroic tenacity of this plant, as if it could echo the words, "Never give up. Never surrender." You'd admire that in a human, so why not give Viola its due?

Mountain Classic

Day 54: I should have guessed. My eyes are itchy, I've been sneezing every few hours and my chest feels constricted. No, I'm not getting a cold. I'm suffering from an inverted air mass. That became quite apparent when I went in town today. As I crested the hill south of Graham, my eyes fell on a layer of brown fug spread like a carpet across Flatland. By the time I reached the shopping district, I was feeling decidedly short of breath. A return to the Mountain gave me some relief, perhaps only because the air LOOKED cleaner.

The Middle Kid

Day 53: Poor Red is the proverbial "middle kid," often overlooked when the showier Zygos are bragging up their hybridized colors. It's hard to compete when your siblings excel in white and yellow, or take honors with fancy trimmed picotee. I've tried to afford this cactus some degree of dignity by bestowing a label reading "Vermilion" on the pot, the titular distinction my way of saying, "See? You haven't been forgotten. Thank you for faithfully flowering year after year after year."

Catching The Red-Eye

Day 52: Spotted Towhee (aka Rufous-Sided Towhee, Pipilo maculatus) is a twitchy little fellow. He flicks his tail almost constantly, darting glances from side to side as if every shrub harboured a Red-Tailed Hawk on the prowl for dinner. On the ground, Towhee is even more jumpy...literally. To raise seed from the soil or in the grass, he digs in his toenails and gives a quick backward hop. He performs the same maneuver in the feeder tray, scattering seed far and wide to be picked up by others of his kind. Photographically, he's a difficult subject. Besides his nervous behaviours, he likes to stay concealed. He gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, "catching the red-eye."

Something Fishy

Day 51: The common name "Goldfish Plant" refers to a wide array of both Columnea and Nematanthus, and I apologize to my readers for having misidentified this particular one as a Columnea previously. I kept thinking something was fishy with what I had been told. Columnea flower form is generally open rather than pouch-shaped. A bit of searching on the internet revealed that my "potted piscine" is indeed Nematanthus "Black Gold."

This rewarding houseplant is characterized by stiff stems and waxy, thick, dark green leaves which often have a reddish blush as well as its distinctive "goldfish" flowers. It blooms almost constantly once established, but has a tendency to become rather leggy unless pinched early. It branches readily and has a semi-cascading habit. Flowering occurs at nodes along the stem, and the tips often display clusters of two or three blooms. Care is easy! Keep it a little on the dry side and give it plenty of sun, and you'll have a whole school of goldfish to grace your window.

Let's Do It Again!

Day 50: That was so much fun, I decided to do it again! Yep, my project for tomorrow is another batch of cranberry-orange marmalade. Like I said, it's my favorite preserve.

For those of you who'd like to try this delicious concoction, I'll provide Certo's old recipe which is no longer included in their jams-and-jellies booklet. It is more work than basic jelly or jam, but it does not take hours like preserves. The original instructions simply called for covering the marmalade with melted paraffin. I recommend processing in a water-bath canner for 10 minutes.

Wash and sterilize 9-10 half-pint jars and rings by boiling for twenty minutes. Leave in hot water until ready to fill.

2 oranges
1 lemon
1 pound fully ripe cranberries
6.5 cups sugar
1 packet Certo liquid pectin

First, prepare the fruit. Cut oranges and lemon into quarters. Remove seeds. Pull peels off and set aside. Grind the fruit segments finely in a food processor or blender. Slice the peels wafer-thin. Combine the ground segments and the peels with 1/8 tsp. baking soda and 1.5 cups water. Bring to a boil and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add cranberries and return to boiling. Simmer for an additional ten minutes.

Measure out five cups of this processed fruit into a very large saucepan. Add the exact amount of sugar specified in the recipe. Place over high heat and bring to a rolling boil, boiling hard for one minute, stirring constantly. Remove from heat and quickly stir in Certo pectin. Then skim and stir for 7 minutes to prevent floating fruit. Skim off as much foam as possible.

Ladle the marmalade into sterilized jars and seal according to lid manufacturer's instructions. Process in a water-bath canner for 10 minutes. Remove from canner and set jars on a towel, out of drafts, and listen for the sound of lids merrily plinking as they seal.

Makes approximately 8 half-pints (but boil extra jars just in case).

Cranberry-Orange Marmalade

 Day 49: I took a fit of domesticity today, stopping at the grocery store on my way home from town to pick up the fruit for my all-time favorite preserve, cranberry-orange marmalade. A friend had given me her canning supplies earlier in the summer when I complained of not being able to fit nine half-pint jars into my small kettle easily, donating to my kitchen several boxes of jars in various sizes, lids and rings, and assorted equipment. My intentions had been good when I accepted the gift; I'd already made one batch of blackberry jam and was planning to do another, but life got in the way, and the rains fell and ruined the berries. I felt guilty every time I saw Jean's granite cookware sitting in the corner. Briefly, I toyed with the idea of pear-tomato chutney, but pears were prohibitively expensive and I had "dinosaur chutney" ("Abdul's Brigadiere chutney") on the shelf. I don't eat much meat. It takes a while to go through a batch of chutney.

A couple of weeks ago, I started thinking about cranberry-orange marmalade, my mouth watering at the mere idea: thin slivers of orange peel and lemon rind in a sweet-tart base, whole cranberries giving texture and color to the jam. Mmmmmmm! Delicious on English muffins, the marmalade also goes well on homemade bread, particularly those made with nutty-flavoured specialty flours. It is utterly scrumptious on "birdseed bread," my daily staple which is made in part with millet flour. Are you drooling yet? Come on over for breakfast!

Playing Favorites

Day 48: What parent can honestly say that they do not sometimes favor one child over another? When one is so much more brilliant or of a better disposition, more comely or affectionate, it is impossible not to have a conscious degree of preference even though it may not be outwardly shown. Fortunately, among my Zygocacti, there is no sibling rivalry, for I am compelled to admit that the yellow is the delight of my eye, even putting the flamboyant picotee to shame. Picotee is the "show-off" of the family, shouting "Look at me!" in its fancy dress. Yellow is simply the epitome of grace and beauty, exerting the quiet dominance of an elegant lady making her entrance at a formal ball.

Hopping Down The Bunny Trail

Day 47: The Easter Bunny took a wrong turn somewhere and wound up freezing his bunny buns behind the Longmire Administration Building today. In fact, if you'd been keeping a Life List of snow animals, you could have scored big-time in the compound. Some had expired in graceless collapse, even their basic features gone past recognition; others were only distinguishable as forms. Bun-bun, by virtue of being in a somewhat more protected area, put them all to shame, his cheerful countenance and perky whiskers the subject of much conjecture among the Interpretive staff. It's a rare day when you'll find rangers debating the identification of a critter, but this fellow inspired speculations ranging from chipmunk to cat. I'm going with Hare...hare today, gone tomorrow.

I'm Dreaming Of A White Christmas...Cactus

Day 46: "I'm dreaming of a white Zygo,
Just like the ones I used to grow,
Where the petals glitter and pollen litters
My desktop like a fall of snow..."

The "white" hybrid of Zygocactus carries just a hint of pink in its petals, and the hue can vary on an individual plant depending on growing conditions. The more light received during the summer months, the deeper the blush. The same is true for the yellow variety which I hope to feature in a few days' time.

If you've been wondering why I have never posted a full view of any of my Zygos, the answer is simple. I keep them pruned back to fit four-inch pots, and seldom have more than a dozen flowers on any plant at one time. When space is limited and you want to maintain a wide selection of colors, keeping them to a manageable size is mandatory.

Cat Box

Day 45: Afraid the burglars will find your good jewelry? Hide it in the cat box! Oh, wait a minute, I don't think they meant a "cat box" like this one. This cute little kitty has an empty head and a hollow tummy, perfect for stashing just a few treasures. She came to me by way of a friend, a Christmas gift and one I've greatly enjoyed, although I usually keep her fed up on pennies instead of pearls and amber.

Knitting Around Corners

Day 44: The very thought of turning a heel is enough to put many needleworkers off the idea of knitting four-needle socks, but the process is actually quite simple to master. Once the cuff is complete, the stitches are redistributed so that the instep is divided onto two needles and the remainder of the stitches are slid onto one needle for the heel flap. The flap can be worked in different ways, but I prefer to add reinforcing thread at this point. For a cushiony, thick flap, Row 1 is sl 1, p across. Row 2 is *sl 1, k 1,* repeated across the row. Turning the heel is simply a matter of working short rows back and forth, increasing the distance travelled past the center mark by one stitch per row until there are no more stitches to work. The first stitch of these short rows is always a slip stitch.

Then comes the fun part! To make the triangular gussets, stitches are picked up along the edge of the heel flap and markers are put in place to indicate where the instep begins and ends. Knitting progresses to within three stitches of the first marker, two stitches are knit together and one stitch is knit plain. The instep is worked straight across, and when the second marker is reached, one stitch is knit, the next slipped, the next knit, and then the slipped stitch is passed over the knit stitch. Decreases are made in this manner, most often with a plain round between them, until the appropriate stitch count is reached. Then you're back to plain knitting (or patterned, if you want some variety). All that's left is decreasing for the toe and weaving the last few stitches together. Oh, and making Sock #2. Double the fun!

A Sense Of Scale

Day 43: People who have lived in the shadow of the Mountain for most of their lives tend to take its dominance of the horizon for granted. At 14,410', Mount Rainier towers above the surrounding mountains and relegates 5000-6000' peaks to the category of "foothills." This relief map of Mount Rainier National Park (a fixture in the Longmire Wilderness Information Center) puts the geography in perspective. Mount Wow (foreground, left) rises almost 6000' above sea level, yet the Mountain itself dwarfs the ancient massif. The highest point accessible by car is Sunrise (6400') and it is at the very edge of treeline. Above that elevation, only the hardy alpine plants survive.

In discussions of climate change, researchers predict that the alpine zone will shrink in size as warmer temperatures allow less specialized species to creep upward. Changes in habitat will allow plants, animals and insects to expand their ranges, each thing linked in some way to another and another. Other species may die out as a result of losing the periods of cold necessary for their reproductive cycles.

Be Bolder

Day 42: I visited a couple of old friends today, and as conversations with old friends often do, our discussion turned to life philosophies. Since they seemed to be well-grounded and both hold positions of some prominence in the local community, I asked them to share the secret of their success. I thought I would share their wisdom with you, my dear readers.

Patrolling For Ramaria Araiospora

Day 41: Two years ago, I discovered my first specimen of Ramaria araiospora growing in a narrow drainage behind Longmire Meadow in Mount Rainier National Park. It was somewhat darker than this example, and it was so striking that I checked up short and said aloud, "What the heck is THAT?" Further exploration turned up several colonies. I did not observe it in 2012, although I checked the location frequently.

For the last three weeks or so, I've been making lunchtime patrols around the Trail of the Shadows, hoping to find this unusual coral fungus again. Today, I decided to venture outside the immediate location (off trail) and upon cresting a small rise which debouched into a stream gully, my search was rewarded. There were several colonies within an eight-foot radius, and only there.

The subspecies rubella emerges red and gradually fades to pink as the fungus ages. It is singularly striking in appearance, the brilliant color shining like a stop light in the forest. The specimen from which the original description of the species was derived (the "holotype") for Ramaria araiospora was collected in 1967, five miles south of Elbe WA, essentially in my own back yard; therefore I feel a modest proprietary connection with it and would not pick it, although it is considered to be edible.

A Leg Up

Day 40: "She'll be readin' th' weather." Robin Penn's remark was spoken softly despite the fact that his approach was clearly announced by the sound of his wooden leg punctuating every other step along the dock's planking. "An' I be thinkin' she's not a bit 'appy wi' it. Wants 'eavy fog, she does."

Robin served as our ship's bursar, cabin boy despite his age, and more importantly, ship's carpenter though his duties in that regard were limited by his infirmity. I had wondered at his service in the crew and made bold to ask him directly how he came not to be pensioned off under the Articles which provided more generously than most for loss of a limb. I found him willing to discuss the matter openly without taking offense at my curiosity; thus I learned that the very thing he warned so often against became his own undoing, but as a matter of choice, not chance.

"'Twas th' foggy season, like now," he told me. "We'd boarded bloody parish-rigged brig, see, carryin' a load o' victuals wot we sorely wanted, an' I were layin' about wi' me cutlass amongst 'er crew when I spied our powder monkey, young chap an' green, lookin' t' 'ave 'is 'ead split by a rogue wi' a belayin' pin. Oh, them were th' days! Well, th' anchor chain, it were a'tween me an' th' blighter wi' the belayin' pin. I made a leap t'save th' laddie...took that bleeder's arm off, I did...but somewheres one o' th' mates fired a keg o' powder an' th' brig, she 'eeled over fast. Got me leg in th' blasted chain, an' off she come in th' backlash. Carpenter...'im wot was our surgeon, too...tol' me, 'We'll 'ave ye right as rain, lad,' an' pared off th' tatty bits an' set me up wi' this 'ere peg." Penn paused for a noisy drencher from a flask of rum, his voice gone raspy with the telling of the tale while I stood speechless at how casually he could relate it, as if it were all in a day's work in the trade of piracy.

"Now Cap'n," he continued, "she seen wot I done fer th' young feller, an' she come by to see me in me bunk. 'Ye're a guid man, Robin, me lad, but tell me this: did ye no' consider wot might 'appen when ye went over th' chain?' I told 'er straight, 'That I did, but Jack Tar were about t' 'ave 'is brains spilt, an' I were thinkin' 'e's far too young t' die just yet. I took me chance an' lost th' roll.' Then she looks me str'ight in th' eye an' says, 'Then I gives ye a choice, fer that's wot I suspected. Ye can do one o' eether. Fer savin' a man's life, I'll gi'e ye double wot's laid out in Articles an' pension ye off, or ye can stay aboard an' be 'prenticed t' carpenter. But I'll no' be 'avin' ye monkeyin' about in th' riggin', mind. Ye're a deck 'and an' at lower pay if ye wants t' stay on.'" Penn took another pull at his flask, but it had gone dry. I offered my own, for my taste for rum is limited. He accepted it with but a nod in thanks, draining half the contents before lowering it to his knee.

"She give me two days t' think it over, an' I mean t' tell ye, it weren't a easy choice. But 'ere I be. 'Tis in me blood, piratin', an' wi' a Cap'n like Morgan Corbye, well, she ain't so mean as some. Wi' bein' full carpenter now an' bursar besides, me pay's almost as good as ever it were as bo'sun."

There was one more question I wanted to ask, and Robin anticipated it. "Young Jackie Tar, wot become o' 'im, ye wonder? Next time we put into port, 'e drew 'is pay an' married th' parson's daughter. I 'ear 'e's a clark at th' clothier's. 'ad all 'e wanted o' piratin', that one, an' Cap'n let 'im go wi' her blessin'."

Perhaps the sound of her name fell upon the Captain's ear, for at that moment she rounded on us sharply and said, "Ready th' lads an' get 'em aboard. We're sailin' on th' mornin' tide. Shift it, ye bloodless curs! We've piratin' t' do."

*****

Footnote: A little less than a year ago, a friend lost his leg in an industrial accident. He asked me to consider writing him into Morgan Corbye's saga. Given the circumstances, I have done so. This one's for you, Rob.

Bloomin' Crazy

Day 39: Tonight, my blog has nothing to do with the photograph, or only marginally. I have been at this over three years now, and I haven't missed a day. I've been late...twice, I think, not as many as three times...posting a photo the following morning when I arrived home after midnight, but I've been consistent in taking pictures every day. Sometimes, it's been difficult to find subject matter, but more often, the writing of the text is where I've had to struggle. I like to keep my posts informative, or if not informative, at least moderately interesting. Occasionally, like tonight, I've been too tired to write the story, having worn myself out on getting a particular shot, and have had to delay posting until the next day when I could devote myself to the task of composition.

Tomorrow, I hope to have something special for you, something featuring a character you've seen in these virtual pages before, but tonight, I'm weary and wanting to crawl into bed. For now, I'll let the zygos speak for me. They can tell you how bloomin' crazy it's been.

Floss Daily

Day 38: One of my favorite needlearts is counted cross-stitch. When I first took it up...must have been half a century ago...I decided to collect all the DMC colors so that I wouldn't have to make a special trip to town when I wanted to start a project. It took a while to build up my stash, money being somewhat scarce, but I reached my goal. I filed them away in three fifteen-drawer cabinets, organizing them by number so they'd be easy to "look up." Just a few months later, DMC added another twenty colors, and one color family in particular crowded the drawer. I reorganized, and of course that meant I had to renumber the drawers as well. Somewhat smarter for the experience, I left some room in each drawer, but I failed to anticipate DMC's next move. They added a whole new series at the end of the numbering system a few years later, and I had to reorganize the collection once again. Later, when they came out with a variegated assortment, I bought a fourth cabinet expressly for "specialty" floss.

If the drawers still seem crowded, it's because I have inherited several floss collections from friends who have given up embroidery or came by them when mom passed away. I seem to have an abundance of red #321 for example, left over from a project I was commissioned to complete, and at least a dozen skeins of black because I enjoy doing blackwork. Any time I find myself at half a skein, I put the number on my shopping list and pick up a spare when I go to town.

Once the collection was complete, it was easy to maintain, only replacing colors when I run short or adding in skeins as new shades are released. You'd think with all that floss, I could match every color in the rainbow, but I often find myself wishing for a purple with just a little more blue, a green just a tad richer or more golden, a slightly warmer brown. You can never have enough color in your day.

Cup Fungus, Aleuria Aurantia

Day 37: Aleuria aurantia is fairly common in the Pacific Northwest, and easy to identify. It has no stalk, and is thin and leathery, and brilliant orange as the Latin "aurantia" suggests. Specimens range in size from tiny to several inches across. It often forms colonies on decaying wood, and may also be found sprouting through the compacted soil of road verges. It is not poisonous, but neither is it particularly edible.

They're Coming!

Day 35: Unlike "Angry Birds," "Plants vz. Zombies" puts your reflexes to the test. I had downloaded it to my Kindle Fire after running out of Angry Birds the first time, but it didn't hold my attention like I'd hoped it would. I played the first few games of the "Adventure" level, and then "Birds" came out with a new universe and an update for an older one. I went back, gleeful at being able to pitch birds once again. When I'd earned three stars in all the levels, I shifted gears and began trying to improve my previous scores. That kept me occupied until the release of "Angry Birds Star Wars 2."

For about three weeks, I was in Bird Paradise, although I could hear a voice in the back of my mind saying, "If you play more than one game each day, you're going to run yourself out of birds again." I told the voice to put a sock in it and kept playing. Just as predicted, I exhausted the basic game, thinking I'd buy more characters and try to earn all the avatars, but when I checked the prices for "points" of purchasing power, my eyes dropped out of my head. The cheapest packet ($9.99) barely gave you enough points for one minor character. Saddened, I put "Angry Birds" aside.

Re-enter the Zombies! Desperate for some way to waste time, I resumed the game and found it to be more fun than I had remembered. I'm still not out of the "Adventure" level yet, and I've run up against a batch of Zombies I haven't been able to defeat in four days. Frustrating as that may be, it fills the description of "time-waster" perfectly and after all, that's why I bought it.

Four Freaky Fungus Fingers Fotos

Day 34 (bonus edition): What do corals, teeth and clubs have in common? They are all families of fungi, and they were well-represented in the Longmire Campground today. This seems to be an exceptional year for pursuing mycological wonders here in the Pacific Northwe't. I only wish I knew more about the species I am observing.

What The Heck Is Going On Here?

Day 34: The first thing that happened to me when I got to work this morning was that our Chief of Interpretation grabbed me before I even had my jacket off and presented me with a rubber-stamp crow which she had been charged to deliver by the Superintendent's wife. Then I found a holey envelope (interdepartmental envelope) in the office inbox addressed to me with some of the crow napkins left over from the Pumpkin Pie Social last night. Then I got home and there's this enormous PEACH PIE in a box with a novel called "Raven's Secret" addressed to "Crow" sitting on the trunk of my car, and no clue who left it there. What the heck is going on here?

Frog Watcher

Day 34: One of the main attractions in Eatonville's Smallwood Park is a man-made pond approximately half an acre in size. This tiny pothole of water is stocked annually and is designated "Fishing for juveniles only." The wording makes me laugh. I've always wondered what type of bait is required to catch a ten-year old. In any event, the little pond usually gets fished out in the few weeks following Opening Day, but when the human anglers disappear, the real experts move in. Heron doesn't care if he catches a fine rainbow or a scrawny frog as long as it satisfies his hunger. I don't think this bird was having much luck, or perhaps he knew something I didn't. He certainly didn't want to give up his spot on the bank as I edged my way closer. His attention was on something, to be sure. I clicked my tongue and made squeaking noises to entice him to look up, but only succeeded when I quacked like a duck. He gave me a disdainful glare and returned to his task, only flying away when I got within about twenty feet.

Mountain Magic

Day 33: The first real snow has fallen at Longmire, and the upper Mountain shows far less rock than it did two weeks ago. Winter is making its descent from the summit, threading its fingers into the valleys, covering the ridgelines, sharpening the bite of wild river waters. Yet for all that, some deciduous trees hold valiantly to their leaves, not ready to consign exclusive reign of the forests to the evergreens; but theirs is a repeating phase of history, a battle lost. I feel a kinship with them as I walk the campground road, my hands burning with the nip of cold and my Vibram soles slipping on the ice. Were it not for a woolly cap, my ears might turn color and drop at the next passing breeze. Here at the Mountain's foot, Autumn is no more than a fortnight of transitional weather, like the passage of Man through the golden prime 'twixt youth and age.

Birdseed Isn't Just For Birds

Day 32: Put away the Cheez-its, Wheat Thins and Ry-Krisp and join me for some birdseed! Millet crackers are delicious, especially when slathered with real butter. It's been a while since I made crackers, and home-baked can't be beat.

The recipe for these nutty delights comes from Linda Foust and Tony Husch's cookbook, "Crackers!" It is out of print, but can occasionally be found through Amazon or your local used book dealer.

You will need
1/4 cup whole millet
1/2 cup millet flour
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/3 cup vegetable shortening
5/8 cup (1/2 cup plus 2 Tbsp.) milk
1 Tbsp. honey

Preheat the oven to 350°.

Stir together the millet, flours and salt in a large bowl. Cut in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Warm the milk and honey in a small saucepan and add it to the flour mixture, blending to form a dough which holds together in a ball. If necessary, you may add a little more milk.

Divide the dough into two portions and roll out on a floured surface. You want it to be thin (no more than 1/8 inch, or approximately as thick as the diameter of a millet grain). Cut out circles with a cookie cutter and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Prick each cracker three times with a fork.

Bake for 10 minutes, then turn crackers over and bake for an additional 8-12 minutes or until medium brown. Serve with butter and enjoy!

Low Maintenance, Huge Rewards

Day 31: Although my potted-plant collection holds some rather exotic species (Sarracenia and several rare varieties of Hoya specifically), the good old Zygocactus is one of my favorites. It gives amazing rewards in exchange for casual care, and several of my plants have been with me for over thirty years. I keep them pruned to fit pots four to siz inches in diameter, taking slips as the parent stem becomes rough and woody. As these so-called "Christmas cacti" readjust from the conditions which force them to bloom during December, their flowering period transitions to early or mid-November at this latitude, dependent on hours of exposure to sun. My plants are happiest in the cooler back bedroom where they have a southerly exposure and are set back a foot or so from the window occupying a dedicated shelf. When flowering begins, I transfer the pots to the living room where they can be admired.

Pholiota

Day 30: Without microscopic examination, Pholiota squarrosa and Pholiota squarrosoides cannot be differentiated reliably, and although both varieties were once believed to be edible and may be cited as such in older field guides, it is now known that these mushrooms can cause severe abdominal distress and vomiting, especially if consumed with alcohol. Also known as the Shaggy Pholiota, they are relatively uncommon outside deciduous forest. These specimens were located at the edge of Longmire Meadow in Mount Rainier National Park near a stand of young alders.