Preparing To Bloom

Day 273: After finding three "paddle caches" on two other lakes (Offut and Ward) with my geocaching partner, we went our separate ways and I wound up at Lake St. Clair. It was quite windy, so I decided I'd fish my way to the end of Sundew Arm and stop by to visit my little carnivorous friends on the way back. It was a bit calmer in the shelter of the Arm, so I played with fish for a while, including dropping one in my lap again when it snapped the line and flipped into the boat with the lure still in its mouth. Chasing a flopping armed fish around the inside of a kayak is quite an experience, similar perhaps to having a weasel dropped down inside your trousers. A rescue was effected, and the hapless fish swam away hastily when I put it back in the water.

Departing the Arm, I discovered that Sundew Island had again shifted position. Although still in the same general location and with all its logs chained together, it seems to be working its way along another log toward open water. It will be interesting to see if it progresses north or south when it has freedom to float on the whim of the wind. But another surprise also awaited me: the Red Colony has put up a flower spike! I will be watching it closely over the next month or so.

Investing In Gardening

Day 272: You would think that at my age, I'd have accumulated just about every tool you could possibly use in a garden. From the looks of my garage, you'd think you were right. However, there are a few implements I've either lost or never owned, and an honest-to-goodness edging blade was among the latter until today. I've always edged my sidewalks with a shovel, excusing the scalloped look under the heading of landscape art. I can't honestly say I did an artful job on the front walk, but at least you can see all of it now!

The boots are also new today, but not a first-time purchase. A few weeks ago, I noticed that my right foot felt wet after I'd gone out in the morning to deliver goodies to the crow board. On examination, I discovered a triangular tear in my kiddy fireman's boots. Duct tape didn't hold, and a second crack developed across the instep. I guess the rubber just got old. Listed as "dairy boots," these don't have a cute insignia, but they'll keep my feet dry.

Gruesome Twosome

Day 271: Do not be misled by Nymphaea odorata's beautiful blossom and sweet fragrance. This introduced plant, native to the eastern part of the country, is considered an invasive menace in the Pacific Northwest. That said, they are often sold by nurseries to people who want to add them to landscaped ponds and water gardens and thus have made their way into many (most!) of our lakes. They quickly snuff out native species and often create areas of stagnant, poorly oxygenated water when the leaves form a barrier on the surface, blocking natural aeration. Nymphaea occurs in many colors, although white and pink are the most typical.

The "Orange" Unveiled

Day 270:  The excitement is building! Sarracenia has thrown her veils aside, exposing the "orange" structure which has remained tantalizingly hidden for the last ten days or more. Close observation of the gaps along the circumference inclines me to think the best is yet to come. I feel like I'm watching a science-fiction film in slow motion.

The "orange" bears fine hairs lightly distributed, longer and more sparse than peach-fuzz, but reminiscent of that downy, velvety texture. The exterior petals have bleached a bit in the last two days, fading from the tips inward. What's next, Sarracenia? What surprises do you hold in that mysterious "orange?"

I'll Bet A Buck

Day 268: Bet a buck! See your doe! I had some interesting company while I was paddling around Tanwax Lake day before yesterday, and intended to share this handsome buck in velvet with my readers yesterday, but as things fell out, my internet failed. In any event, he was upstaged by the fledging of the Tree Swallow babies from the House of Chirp (see previous post).

Rather small for a three-point, he was with a doe of similar size. She was the more daring of the two, coming down to the water's edge and working her way along a narrow band of firm ground beneath the scrub. Bucky tested the water with one foot and chickened out, retreating to the safety of dry land. When the doe realized he wasn't following her, she returned to his side and the two went off into the brush together.

The Moment Of Fledging

Day 268: First let me say that my internet is not fixed, despite the fact that I'm back on. It seems to be a problem in the system and has been referred up the chain of command.

After watching the Tree Swallow parents bringing food to the door for some time, I had a feeling the babies were on the verge of fledging. What I did not expect was that I would be able to capture the moment when the first one took wing. It occurs at 0:4, so watch carefully...and then see the other two youngsters scramble for a view of their sibling in flight!

The House of Chirp is vacant now, and like many parents, I'm both happy and sad as I look at the empty doorway from the kitchen window. Safe travels, younglings! I'll see you next year.

A Temporary Interruption Of Service

Since I will not be making daily trips to Eatonville to use the library computer, I ask your patience while I wait for delivery of a new modem. Mine passed into Silicon Heaven today (if you don't get the reference, you probably aren't a Red Dwarf fan). Or at least I hope that's what the issue is. In any event, I will be backlogging photos and essays for when I get back on line.

And yes, that mushroom-shaped cloud over by Mount Rainier was a nuclear Crow.

The Hunter

Day 267: Tanwax Lake already had a toxic blue-green algae alert posted for it by the time I purchased my kayak last August, so it went on my list of potential early-season paddles for this year. It's a fairly small lake (approximately 172 acres) and feeds Tanwax Creek at the west end. Much of the shoreline is developed, but a section of the north side is brushy and wild. That's where I found Mr. Heron doing his part to control the invasive bullfrogs (Rana catesbeiana) which populate so many of our western Washington water resources. Sidebar here: those water lilies in the photo (Nymphaea odorata) are also an invasive species. They can be white or pink with green or reddish-green leaves.

I admit it: I like taking pictures of Herons, common though they may be. Their ability to camouflage themselves against a background of cattails simply by standing straight and tall is uncanny. You'd think they'd stick out like a sore thumb...big grey spot surrounded by green...but I was almost on top of this fellow before I saw him. He'd seen me, though, and had that bright yellow eye firmly fixed on the invader in his territory. With the blades barely rippling the water, I paddled past him until I was occluded from his sight by a tussock of foliage. Then slowly and carefully, I tucked the paddle into the 'yak and let the wind carry the boat, a silently floating (if brightly colored) "log" as far as Mr. Heron was concerned. By then, he'd gone back to looking for lunch, and was having a high degree of success at the project. Of all the photos I got, this was my favourite. It shows Mr. Heron's supreme concentration on the task at hand: survival. Kinda puts our human complaints of lousy cell phone service and mean bosses into a whole 'nother perspective, if you think about it.

Strange Structure Of Sarracenia

Day 266 (bonus post): I took this photo about an hour ago with Sarracenia sitting on a piece of white cardstock on my kitchen floor and the tripod standing atop the table in order to show how the petals are separating from the interior. I prefer doing zoom shots to shooting macro, so the distance here was about seven feet with a zoom factor of 44x. The width of the flower is about 2.25". It's difficult to give a length because the petals still fold inward.

Exotic Sarracenia

Day 266: Sarracenia's blossom grows more mysterious daily. In between where the bases of each petal attaches to the central structure, gaps are opening, but there is no evidence to suggest that the "orange" is going to split into a second set of petals. I am wondering if these gaps are another type of trap for the insects this plant consumes. I can say one thing for certain: if Sarracenia was bigger, I'd keep my door locked at night!

Hoya Bella, Morning Light

Day 265: Hoya bella accepts anything I throw at it and never fails to reward me. It's been less than a month since I looked up and saw withered leaves ready to drop. I'd been very busy and hadn't given a thought to watering plants. I took it down, basket and all, hung it in the shower and gave it a thorough bath..."Foliar feeding," I said to myself. "One of these days, I'm going to kill it clear dead." Well, that time has not yet arrived. Here it is, in lavish bloom, its leaves plumped back up, happy as Larry. There must be at least a dozen umbels open and more to come. Amazing what a little plain H2O can do!

Crazy For Daisies

Day 264: Oxeye Daisies are a common sight on the southwest Washington prairies. A non-native species, they are not on the invasive plant list although they do frequently out-compete native wildflowers and grasses. They often grow in "drifts," blanketing large areas where conditions are favourable. You should feel no pangs of conscience if you want to stop and pick a bouquet. In fact, these flowers present a great opportunity to explain osmosis to your kids. You undoubtedly have everything you need on hand for the experiment except perhaps the daisies, so take a drive or ride your bike and gather some up.

Fill a vase with water and add several drops of food coloring. Put your daisy bouquet in the water, and in about 24 hours, you should see color starting to infuse the petals from the center. As the daisies stand longer, the color will spread until the flowers no longer show any white. You can turn your daisies red, green, blue or even purple! Planning a Fourth of July picnic? Pick three batches and make a red, white and blue arrangement for your table! Some dye will drain back out of the stems, so wait to combine them until right before presentation.

Nuttall's Larkspur, Delphinium Nuttallii

Day 263: "Common in south Puget Sound prairies," says the field guide, but Nuttall's Larkspur occurs only sporadically along the Yelm-Tenino Trail, and only in a stretch which extends about a mile on either side of the town of Rainier. The intense blue is a stoplight for bicyclists and walkers when it occurs at trailside: "What is that?" Oftentimes, tall grass almost conceals the spikes, giving casual observers the impression that this is just another species of vetch vining through the prairie. Like other members of the delphinium family (domestic and wild), the flowers come with their own "bees," a cluster of smaller petals in the center. These petals are often bearded, giving the "bee" a fuzzy look.

Horse Chestnut Raid

Day 262: Once I've got it in my craw to act, everybody better just get the hell out of my way. After I had to take the Whatzit Tree out because it was diseased, I started looking for something to replace it. I decided I wanted a tree which would mature to have a broad crown, i.e., a "shade tree." I had a couple of things in mind.

The "last resort" option was a big-leaf maple, not one of my favourite trees. They're too prone to breaking in the wind. Other choices included a black walnut, horse chestnut or a catalpa. The latter two grow fairly rapidly.

There was one other stipulation to the Quest: shoestring budget. "Cheap" was okay. "Free" was better.

I checked a couple of open spaces where I'd seen black walnuts growing. Nope, no seedlings. Then I paid a visit to a park with catalpas. I brought home several pods and planted the seeds. They're currently chilling in the fridge. I'm also experimenting with a hardwood cutting.

All of this aside, I struck gold yesterday. I was on my way home from kayaking at Lake St. Clair and spotted dozens of little baby horse chestnuts growing on the road verge beneath a parent tree which was on private property. If the county mowed, the seedlings would be doomed. I had to act promptly, and thus I let a plant raid dictate my other activities today.

About 9 AM when traffic was fairly light, I parked nearby and crossed the road, trowel and plastic bags in hand. Ten minutes later, I returned to the car with half a dozen horse chesnut trees which I immediately put in a bucket of soil brought expressly for that purpose and dumped a quart of water on them. Then I went bicycling because the trailhead was only a mile or so away. Several hours later, I got back to the car. It was like an oven inside, but the horse chestnuts were happy and showing no signs of wilt. I potted them up in gallons as soon as I got home.

Slow Process

Day 261 (bonus post): If you're following the unfurling of my Sarracenia's blossom and were wondering why I haven't posted another picture...well, this is one of the slowest openings I've ever witnessed in a plant. Now that the petals have separated, I can see something in the center which looks rather like an orange with the peel removed. I have no idea what comes next, and am resisting the temptation to look it up on line because I want it to surprise me.

Avast, Ye Who Sail Lake St. Clair!

Day 261: 'Tis a word t' th' wise I'll be givin' ye: dinna be a'ter molestin' th' Sundews o' Lake St. Clair fer they be guarded by th' most ferociousest o' pirates in th' 'ole o' th' Pacific Northwest. 'Tis Cap'n Morgan Corbye 'erse'f wot pertects them, an' ye never knows whereat she might be layin' by. Comes an' goes like th' mist, they says, an' disguises 'erse'f t' be tooken fer a common sailor, but mind ye well! Should she come alongside ye, ye'd best hove to an' be prepared t' show ye've no pilfered plants aboard. St. Clair is deep waters, matey, an' stained wi' th' blood o' many wot tried t' lift one o' them sticky little devils.

The House Of Chirp

Day 260: Once again the swallows have raised a successful clutch in the House of Chirp. This year's tenants are a pair of Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor). They seem to have a time-share arrangement with the Violet-Greens, although I haven't been able to follow their annual occupancy schedule. As for the kids, I've only seen a glimpse of the top of someone's head at the door so far, but it won't be long now before sweet little faces pop out to await feeding. This morning, Mom and Pop were both on the wing, hunting up bugs for breakfast. They waited patiently on the phone line while I filmed, despite the horrible fuss the little ones were making.

Bookended

Day 259: I've known for over a year that Mark Turner, author of my favourite wildflower field guide, was going to be putting out a book on trees. As soon as it became available for pre-order, I put in my bid. I'm the first to admit that my knowledge of trees and shrubs is weak, but it seemed that there was no hope of expanding it without a personal tutor. I was hoping that Mark's release would be as logically and intuitively organized as "Wildflowers of the Pacific Northwest," and as complete. The book arrived today, and he didn't disappoint me. Now if I could just convince him to put out one on area lichens, I wouldn't have to carry Brodo around in a wheelbarrow!

On The Ranch

Day 258: He would be a father in a few months, although he wouldn't have known it at the time this photo was taken, and the daughter who was to arrive rather earlier than predicted would inherit from him a love of the outdoors and of physical labour. Perhaps it was because he kept her by his side as he planted corn in hills, "One for the worm, one for the crow, one to die and one to grow," or as he turned the compost at the bottom of the garden. Even as his health failed some few years later, he kept a plot of vegetables and tended fruit trees in a small orchard. My dad was happiest when he was growing things or working the soil. When I think about him, I see corn shocks bundled by the gate in autumn, ringed with pumpkins and knobbly gourds. I taste crisp beans and peas, still sun-warm and fresh from the vine. I think of tractors and pitchforks and the smell of fresh-mown hay because those were the things which filled the few fleeting summers we had together, but most of all, I remember my dad as a young and handsome man. I console myself with that as the balancing of the scales against his early passage from life. He will always be young in my mind's eye.

Adopt-a-Highway, Showers Or Not

Day 257: Despite showers and cool temperatures, four stalwart volunteers showed up for Saturday's Adopt-a-Highway litter patrol along SR706 East, a section of highway which encompasses the Park's Tahoma Woods frontage. In partnership with the Washington State Department of Transportation, Park volunteers have contracted to make three pickups per year along a two-mile section. The next time you're driving to Mount Rainier, think about these dedicated folks who work rain or shine, and don't toss that latte cup out the window!

Honeysuckle

Day 256: It's taken a decade for a commercially-grown Honeysuckle vine to establish at the corner of my garage, a fact I can only attribute to poor soil, although I've seen the wild version root in some pretty unlikely locations. I had visions of a paradise for hummingbirds when I planted it, but in its first few years, it put on only a few blossoms and fell prey to some critter which mined the leaves. I was on the verge of pulling it out, possibly moving it to a new location until it surprised me this year by putting on a spectacular show of bright orange blooms. Nothing says "summer" quite like Honeysuckle after a rain shower!

Sarracenia Rising

Day 255: Her face is lifting to the light, and a hint of her center is just visible between the petals. It should only be a few days now before we see Sarracenia's full flower. I've refrained from looking it up on line. I'm like a kid with a Christmas present: the anticipation makes the reveal all the more exciting.

Carnivorous Forest

Day 254: I have been fretting over the well-being of "my" colony of Drosera rotundifolia (Round-leaved Sundew) on Lake St. Clair after their island went adrift in a storm last fall and lodged itself in a much shadier niche. I kept telling myself that just because I found the island in position at the north end of the northwest arm, it didn't necessarily follow that it had always been there. It is a raft after all, and may have drifted all over the lake over the years. Still, I couldn't help but worry. The Sundews didn't seem to be as lush as I remembered them, and I kept reminding myself, "It's early yet. They'll come on." Today it hit me: I didn't buy my kayak until August last year. And when I first spotted the Sundews, there were only a few. They didn't really take off until September. Now that we have that settled, I can say I am quite pleased with the way they're behaving.

In order to get a good picture of them, I had to wrassle an alligator, i.e., a floating log which was caught in branches, blocking my ingress into the bay on the sunny side of Sundew Island. I poked it with the paddle, and it bounced right back into place. I pulled on it and it snapped back like it was spring-loaded. Finally, with repeated thrusts of the paddle and some skillful timing, I managed to get the bow of the 'yak in between log and island, and then simply bulled my way through. All things considered, when the "door" went shut behind me, I knew I wouldn't be able to back out through it. There was just enough room to pivot the 'yak so I'd be facing the log for my exit. However, that meant the Sundews were behind me, and there were several more floating logs and poky branches to maneuver around. I am pleased to say that I am a lot better at backing up in the kayak than I am in my car because this adventure put my skill to the test, and getting out of the bay was far easier than getting in.

I've Got Those Old Delphinium Blues

Day 253: Forget what you've heard about Hummingbirds' fondness for the color red. Just plant some Delphiniums in your garden and they'll scorn the feeders in preference for diving head-first into one of these rich blue blossoms.

Shortly after I purchased this property, a friend came up to help me renovate the old grassed-over flower beds. We excavated to a depth of 18", filtering the soil through our fingers and retaining any root which looked like birth a desirable plant. In so doing, we found the Delphiniums which were to become the foundation for my current "hummingbird garden," although I didn't realize it at the time. When the first Hummers arrived to sip nectar, I bought several feeders and filled them, but they went unnoticed until the Delphiniums had faded. The feeders hang nearby to provide the equivalent of a "fast-food snack" for my little clients while they wait in line for a table at Café Delphine.

Tina Turner Tree

Day 252: Okay, so it's not exactly what Christine Lavin meant when she sang about "a fine warm western breeze stirring up the Tina Turner trees," but I never see a palm that I don't think of that line from "Santa Monica Pier." It made me laugh out loud the first time I heard it.

I've seen enough Tina Turner trees growing in the general area to believe that they don't need California climate and are actually hardy enough to withstand Pacific Northwest winters. Of the three varieties I saw offered for sale today, I selected Windmill Palm (Trachycarpus x fortunei) which at maturity will be 10-20 feet tall. It falls into the category of "fan palms," as demonstrated by the many-fingered foliage. If by some stroke of bad luck it doesn't survive my ministrations, I'm only out twenty bucks. Sometimes you just have to take a chance.

Sarracenia

Day 251: For two months or more, I've been watching the Sarracenias for signs of new growth. A period of unseasonably cold nights last winter gave me reason to be concerned for their survival, although at the worst of it, I moved them to a moderately warmer location. They are reputed to be hardy in this climate, but I felt that temperatures in the teens and single digits were a bit much to ask them to endure. Indeed, I thought one of the two plants had died off regardless, but it is currently sending up its first few "pitchers" of the year. The other is prospering. Its flower stalk emerged before the foliage and now towers above the young "leaves" by several inches, a walnut-sized bud swelling and almost ready to burst. These two images were taken at the same distance/zoom factor to show the ratio of bud size to six-inch tall pitchers. The pitchers will eventually reach a height of approximately one foot. The flower stalk is 16 inches at its highest point.

Party Time

Day 250: I admit it. I'm a party animal. I was ready to party after spending a couple of days sitting through training sessions, ready to "get down" with old friends and new...on a work party in the Longmire Stewardship Campground.

This is part of our "season opening" at Mount Rainier National Park. The Volunteer program works with geocachers and other volunteers to clean up winter debris and erect the platform tents which serve as volunteer housing during the summer. This year, we had another major project on the to-do list: construction of as many as fifteen old-style wooden picnic tables for use in the campground. Not only did we complete both of those projects, we moved on to several secondary tasks and completed them as well.

Y'know, if you're going to party hard, a work party is the best place I know!

Formerly Known As...

Day 249: You'll find it happens a lot. One field guide lists a plant under one name, and a different field guide will call it something else. It can be very confusing, particularly to beginners who don't understand that taxonomy is a highly plastic discipline. Many times, plants will be reclassified as science discovers they are genetically linked to a different family than previously thought. Other times, a name change is functional, rendered in a new form to be more descriptive of the species. Common names...well, it's best we don't even go down that road. Plants entirely unrelated to one another may bear the same common name.

Case in point for fluctuating Latin: Silene latifolia alba, formerly known as Lychnis alba. Genus Lychnis is closely related to Genus Silene, the points of differentiation being the number of styles (the structure which bears the stigma) and the shape of the seed capsule. If you think the Latin is confusing, try the common names: White Campion, Cockle, Catchfly, Evening Lychnis (a reference to its prior and now outdated taxonomy). Who would think a little white flower could be so problematical? If you will forgive me the cross-referenced wordplay (she said with a wink), it would seem that this non-native species must not have been properly introduced.

Camofraug

Day 248: I couldn't resist the title, even though I believe this is a Western Toad (Bufo/Anaxyrus boreas), and he upstaged every other candidate for this blog from an eight-hour, 8.5-mile kayaking trip on the Cowlitz River. I have wildflowers, beautiful scenery, even an Osprey perched on a branch with half a fish in its talons, but the Marvelous Mister Toad takes the prize.

I'd put in at the spot I call Elk Landing, a nice sandy shingle which has been heavily marked with hoofprints whenever I've stopped there. It's a lovely spot for a lunch, or as was the case today, a place to take a breather from fighting wind and waves. I like to paddle up-river when I'm fresh and let the current give me an assist on the way back down, however today I was struggling for every inch of forward motion against a hard wind from the south. Whenever the river trended from roughly northeast to southwest, there were long-period rollers, cresting occasionally as whitecaps and breaking over the bow. It was the first time I've wished for a spray skirt on the 'yak. That said, I went farther upstream than I've gone before, but plans to make a park-to-park trip from Lake Scanewa to Cowlitz Falls were cut short when I was approximately a mile and a half from the campground. The wind was just too much, although I never felt I was in danger.

That Old Black Magic

Day 245: Mysterious as a midnight rendezvous, "Superstition" is one of the most intense blacks available in an iris, and its color holds well through the blooming period. However, the color is somewhat sensitive to soil conditions, although I haven't determined what influences a possible fade to red. I will say that I was almost tempted to leave these where they were when after two years, they bleached to an unusually rich mahogany, but shifting them to a different part of the garden brought them back to a full black which has been consistent over the last decade.

I love black flowers. The squirrels made off with my "Queen of Night" tulips, though. Like "Superstition," they also hold their strong color throughout their life cycle when other purportedly "black" tulips fade to purple as the blossoms age.

Geology Rocks!

Day 244: It's June and time for interpretive training! Today's subject was the geology of Mount Rainier, and while I think geology rocks, eight and a half hours is a long time to sit in a chair listening to speakers, even excellent ones like Tom Sisson, Carolyn Driedger and Paul Kennard. I learned a lot, and took advantage of lunch break to grab a mineral specimen from home for "show-and-tell" with the professionals. I'm none the wiser for having taken it back for analysis, but Tom Sisson took a sample of the green radiating crystals which he's promised to subject to tests in order to make an identification. I'm looking forward to finally having a name to put on a specimen I've carted around for more than thirty years!

Long-Tailed Ginger, Asarum Caudatum

Day 243: It's easy to see how Long-Tailed Ginger got its common name. Also known simply as Wild Ginger, Asarum caudatum's flower is one of the most distinctive to be found in Mount Rainier National Park, but it is also one of the most elusive, evading wildflower enthusiasts' cameras by hiding beneath lightly hairy, heart-shaped leaves. It grows throughout the forested zones, preferring moist banks and partial shade. The leaves and stems give off an aroma of ginger when broken, but please content yourself with visual observation of this most unusual flower. Look for the blossoms from mid-May to late June (sometimes into July).

A Part Of The Story

There is a footnote to my previous post. I returned to the campground to work with the boys on cleaning up the winter storm debris. One of them surprised me by saying, "We told a story about you last night at the campfire. They said that you weren't a crow, not really. You were a Raven, and you'd get us if we did anything against Nature."

Those of my readers who know me personally will understand the significance here. I am deeply honoured...deeply honoured, indeed!...to have become part of the Great Raven's story, and in a way I never expected. I could do a lot worse in life than to be appointed his deputy.

No Bigger Than A Crow

Day 242: I've always described myself as "about the same size as a 10-year old boy." Here's proof...the Crow with seven 10-year old Webelos who earned their Forester badges today for learning to identify six (actually eight or nine) trees and describing how they are used by man and animals. These young men can tell you the difference between Alaska Yellow Cedar and Red Cedar by looking at the bark OR the foliage! And that grin you see on my face is one of pride in my young pupils.