Succulence

Day 304: Heritage is an "ever-bearing" raspberry, which means that it produces one crop during the summer, then takes a short nap before producing a second (and usually smaller) crop in early Autumn. While it purportedly requires little pruning, mine put up a mass of bull-canes this year and because I neglected to clip them out in a timely manner, I'm paying for my laziness with fewer berries. Strangely, the Steller's Jays who usually get first pick seem to be respecting my desire for sweet, succulent fruit and have been allowing them to ripen for my pleasure. There's nothing quite as delicious as a sun-warmed raspberry fresh off the vine!

Rana Catesbeiana, Invader

Day 303: A master of concealment, the Bullfrog (Rana catesbeiana) is under consideration to be listed as an invasive species in the freshwater ponds of lowland western Washington. A prolific breeder, this species thrives in the near-stagnant murk of surface-water retention ponds and slow-moving ditches. The bullfrog is a hunter, and will consume any prey slower or smaller than itself, including other frogs, mice, young turtles and even small birds like ducklings or hummingbirds. It has been known to cannibalize its own species.

Some sources say that bullfrogs have contributed to the decline of native amphibian species, however, surveys indicate a reduction in amphibian population even in the higher altitudes where bullfrogs do not occur. If the bullfrog is not the prime suspect in the decline, it is certainly not making it easy for native frogs to gain ground.

Tippy Tippy

Day 302: Every time I post a photo like this on one of the social media sites, I get a flurry of comments along the lines of, "If I tried that with my cat, she'd claw me to pieces." On the flip side of the coin, I am always surprised that people CAN'T do things like this with their cats. I guess the secret is in building a relationship of trust from the beginning.

Tip is a gentle and loving Boy, very easy-going and mellow. The hardest part here was getting him to look at the camera long enough for the 10-second timer to run down and trigger the lens. Don't go thinking I got this on the first try, either. I took at least a dozen, never once turning him rightside-up. I had to support his back with my knees to free up a hand to push the shutter button each time, but he knew I wasn't going to drop him. He trusts me.

On the other hand, Skunk is a crabby old gal. Still, when it's time for mama to do something wicked to her like brush her teeth or give her a bath, she doesn't fight me because we've established the parameters for how the job is done. She may not like what's going on, but she understands that I won't push her past her limits.

I treat my kitties like kids. I explain things to them, whether they can understand me or not. I have introduced them to scary concepts like bathing one slow step at a time. Those first baths weren't long or complete by any means, but now I can leave to get a towel with either cat standing in the sink, water up to tummy level, and not worry about them jumping out.

Y'know, it's like a relationship with another human: you get out of it what you put into it. If you play hard or tease meanly, you'll be repaid in kind. If you're patient and gentle, you'll be rewarded with trust. Tippy Tippy knows that.

Eatonville Bombing!

Day 301: I was on my way home from a pleasant day of kayaking on two lakes, driving up the long hill from Ohop Creek to the city limits of Eatonville, and as I came up the last rise, I gasped. "Somebody bombed Triangle Park!" Yep, a yarn bomber had been at work! Every tree was wrapped in knitting and crocheting. Several of the rocks were wearing blankets. Even the lamp posts were cozied like teapots in brightly colored jackets.

No one seems to know when or where the practice of yarn bombing originated. Some say it came about as a mode of artistic expression. Others will tell you it started as a protest against...well, against a variety of things, depending on which source you read. It's been outlawed in some places, encouraged in others. In any event, it has arrived in urban Eatonville as part of the annual Arts Festival, and as one portion of the installation describes the small town, this is a "close-knit community."

Allow Me To Introduce You

Day 300:  While we normally think of introduced species as a bad thing (case in point, the Tansy Ragwort shown in this photo), introduction of a species can sometimes be beneficial if managed wisely. The Cinnabar Moth (Tyria jacobaeae) was introduced to Washington in 1960 as a biological control for Tansy (Senecio jacobaea). You see, these little yellow-and-black buggers are very specialized. They are predatory on members of the Senecio family almost entirely to the exclusion of any other food. When that food source dries up (i.e., they eat themselves out of house and home), the caterpillars turn cannibalistic, thereby controlling their own population.

Gorignak Goes Camping

Day 299: "Computer, is there a replacement beryllium sphere on board?" The crew of the NSEA Protector has landed on Planet Longmire and little do they know that Gorignak the Rock Monster is waiting for them as they search for a replacement beryllium sphere. Commander Peter Quincy Taggart has run up against this beast once before and barely escaped with his life. Will the intrepid crew survive another encounter? Or will the Campground Host have to intervene?

"Galaxy Quest" meets the National Park Service! Gorignak appeared mysteriously on top of a stump at the rear of the Community Building recently, and his origin is a matter of conjecture. I think I detect the hand of our departing campground hosts in his physical engineering. He's very solidly built, and stands ready to greet anyone approaching the registration table. He won't allow fires in any undesignated location, and enforces quiet hours with a firm fist. Pick up your trash and be sure you put your food in the approved "bear box" storage containers or you may find yourself wishing for a digital conveyor to whisk your atoms to safety.

Paddling Tilton River Canyon

Day 298: I can't tell this story without prefacing it with a rant against Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife's extortionate fee system, because it very nearly ended this adventure before it could begin. When I arrived at the "public" boat ramp (I use the word "public" with tongue firmly in cheek), I came up against a sign advising me that if I wanted to launch my little craft, it would cost me an additional $7. The extra charge was tacked onto the $35 I'd paid for my Discover Pass, a permit which apparently only allows me to sit in my car in the parking lot looking wistfully at the water. This is the second time I've encountered a surcharge when I had nothing but a $20 in my purse and was not inclined to backtrack 10-30 miles to get change. In the first place, I resent having to have a Discover Pass and/or a Northwest Forest Pass to enter the woods half a mile on either side of my home. Fortunately, I am exempt from also having to purchase a National Parks pass, or I would be restricted entirely to pavement. Luckily, I was able to track down a semi-official person in the State Park campground who pointed me at the "day use" area where I could launch my kayak free of charge, although I'd have to wheel it about 300 yards. Wheel it I did, bump-bump-bump down the concrete steps at the swimming beach. That 300 yards was harder on my shoulders than the nine miles of kayaking which followed. As for WDFW, they have got the last cent out of me they'll ever see, except for my fishing licence. The Discover Pass is a masterpiece of false advertising, and I won't make the mistake of purchasing it again.

Now for the trip...I'd heard from one of our Park volunteers that the Tilton River Canyon was a fantastic kayak trip. I had seen it from above while walking the trail, and it did indeed look very enticing with its fern-covered walls and milky blue-green water. However, walking the trail gave me little sense of how far up the river I might be able to go. I expected to get quite a bit farther than I did. After being forced to get out and walk on three occasions, about two miles up, I hit the final obstacle: a small rapids I couldn't pass without portaging the 'yak, and I could see another larger one a tenth of a mile further on.

Upon turning back, my adventure took on a different mission when I noticed Spotted Knapweed (a "hit list" invasive) on the river bar. I had my GPSr with me, so I put in to take coordinates and photos so that I could report it to the Invasive Plant Council. While trying to determine the extent of the affected area, I also discovered Buddleia, Tansy Ragwort and acres of Japanese Knotweed. When I got home, I mapped the infestation. It's all on State Park land. The one good note I can inject here is that the Tansy was being devoured by Cinnabar Moth caterpillars, a biologic control introduced a decade or two ago which has had a good success rate (but maybe not here).

Because I'd had to turn back earlier than expected, I was feeling rather disappointed. I made a couple of loops around the island opposite the swimming beach, put in at a 20' x 30' knob of rock and dirt in the middle of the river and had lunch, and then decided to do it all over again! Back up to the rapids I went, and on the second pass, I was able to find a channel which didn't require getting out and dragging the 'yak through the shallows. I also saw some whopping big fish, and was kicking myself for having left the rod behind. Oh, well. I'll have another chance before my present Discover Pass expires, and now I know how to get around that stinking surcharge. $7 just to put a kayak in the water? Get real.

All In A Day's Caching

Day 297: When I found myself with more time on my hands than expected today, I started the process of sorting out options to fill it. Topping the list was a new and very innovative cache I'd heard about through a friend's Facebook post, but it was a rather long drive to make for just one find. Second on the list was a paddle cache which published several days ago, but due to weather, had not yet been found. It was even farther from home, and northwest of the other one by about an hour. I did the only reasonable thing: decided I didn't care what time I got home, and went after both of them.

The closer I got to Olympia, the stronger the wind became. When I arrived at the target lake, I asked myself quite seriously, "Do I really want to do this?" Halfway across and where it was already too late, I said, "Y'know, maybe this wasn't the best idea." Struggling for every inch, I made it to the far shore where I expected the wave action might be less. Instead, I found the water lapping at docks and splashing high onto the shore. I'd already made it that far, though, and the kayak was proving its stability magnificently, so I kept at it and a mile or so further on, I had the cache in hand. The trip back was even rougher, with whitecaps breaking over the bow as I plowed into them. It was like riding a roller-coaster, and any pause in paddling, however brief, let the wind turn the 'yak. I was very glad when I finally made port!

The second cache lived up to my expectations and then some. Yes, the external cache container is a whole, entire Porta-Potty! There are multiple steps each finder must follow in order to gain access to the official log book, and I won't give away any secrets here. Suffice to say that there are more electronic gizmos in this Johnny than most people have in their entertainment centers! The cache developer had arranged for permission to place his creation at a hardware/garden center, so after thanking the property owners for allowing it, I purchased two landscaping plants for my yard.

In all, I put close to 150 miles on the car in pursuit of these two caches, but I'd rather do that and get this type of quality than rack up a series of 25 micros placed every 528' in guardrails and at the bases of signs. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what geocaching SHOULD be!

Recognizing Stewardship

Day 296: This weekend, it will be my great privilege to award seven young women with patches recognizing their stewardship of resources at Mount Rainier National Park. They will be volunteering over a two-day period, assisting Park staff with several projects, fulfilling Ranger Quests, and for the educational requirement of the badge, listening to your correspondent blather on about mycoheterotrophy and other botanical marvels.

Until today, I did not know that these badges were ours to distribute. I assumed that Scout honors came from Scout headquarters after some form of documentation was provided to prove that the badge had been rightfully earned. It will be a significant moment for me to have these awards accepted from my hands.

Cache Success

Day 295: Although I don't do a lot of geocaching these days other than when I'm out in the kayak, I do like to keep up on the few which get hidden on my own turf. Last week, I attempted to find the dreaded "micro in the woods" twice at this lovely hidden waterfall, but had no success on either day. Today, with a better hint from the out-of-towner who hid the cache, I achieved my goal. As you can tell, the weather was substantially cooler than a week ago, and slightly damp. Crawling around on wet moss and slip-sliding on slick rocks is all part of the game. No dip in the plunge pool today, but I'll be back!

How Invasives Transport

Day 294: While we're on the subject of invasive and introduced species, I'd like to present an example of the process in action. While working on my Nisqually Land Trust site yesterday, I picked up litter and removed several old tires to a location where they are out of sight to await pickup by another crew. I had to walk through grass and weeds to reach the "drop" about 25 feet from the roadside. In the process, my clothing and shoes gathered an abundance of seeds, including those of Cleavers (Galium aparine). It is easy to see why Cleavers got its common name. The seed capsule is a round 1/8" burr covered in tiny hooks. While grass seeds can be rubbed out of socks and off trouser legs, Cleavers requires a painstaking, one-by-one removal. It took me twenty minutes to de-seed myself before going home.

Moth Mullein, Verbascum Blattaria

Day 293: Moth Mullein is an introduced species, but is not on the "hit list" of invasives, so I did not feel compelled to pull it up when I found it growing on my Nisqually Land Trust beat. To be fair, it's near the road edge. Had I found it further onto the property, I would have uprooted it. In the four or five years I've been patrolling the area, I have never observed it attempting to spread. Like many species of "wild" flower, it undoubtedly escaped from a pioneer's garden where it may have been planted deliberately as a memory of a former home.

Here you have an argument I have presented to many people. It is human nature to transport things from one location to another, whether it's a favourite plant, a piece of rock or a handful of seashells which might some day confound the archaeologist who unearths them in North Dakota. The act of carrying seeds from one place to another is the way of Man, and therefore could be defined as a valid mode of transport (speaking botanically), just as seeds are borne on the wind, in water or caught in the fur of animals. Take this line of thought one step further, and it suggests that we are interfering with Nature by forbidding transport of botanical materials across political boundaries.

Don't take me too seriously here. I use the same argument for feeding birds. It's human nature. While in the extreme, either practice can disrupt an ecosystem, but if practiced in moderation, it all balances out.

Oregon Spring

Day 292: My mouth is watering already! I have never had tomatoes ripen earlier than late August, not here in my mountain garden, but Oregon Spring was developed for this climate and it is proving to be the best producer even over Sweet Million, my other favourite. What at first I took to be a rot issue at the stem end has panned out to be nothing more than a little sun-scald or water damage. Several four-inch fruits are beginning to show color.

I purchased strong plants in four-inch pots this year, and I think that's part of the secret. Buying smaller plants means they have less time to develop. Even so, last year's crop filled my kitchen window where I put them to ripen, eating them one by one as they matured off the vine. These, though...these promise sun-warmed, juicy goodness within the next two weeks. No danger of frost between now and then! Hurrah for Oregon Spring!

Follow The Yellow Brick Road

Day 291: "Select a function or mode on your camera that you've never (or rarely) used and take a picture to demonstrate its purpose and/or usefulness." That was a bit of a challenge! I use most of the functions on my camera on a regular basis, so I parked my butt on a bench alongside the Chehalis-Western Trail and reviewed the various possibilities. When I came to "Color Swap," I said, "Hmmm..." and an idea was born. However, the trail offered very little in the line of colors I could exchange without using the red or blue of the bike. I had dark green fir trees and Scotch broom, and tan dry grass. Oh, and yellow Hawkweed, the plant so many people think is a species of dandelion. Yellow...maybe I could turn the asphalt yellow.

I selected a large area of asphalt to get an average of the shades of grey, and then zoomed in on a Hawkweed blossom for the exchange. The viewfinder flashed the projected swap alternately with the true-to-life scene which didn't really give me much opportunity to review how it would affect the peripheral colors. I snapped a preliminary shot and then zoomed in on the resultant image. It looked like it might just work! In post, I eliminated a slight color cast on the top of my bike bag and on the tire tread. I left the yellow on the chrome because it would be reflected from the "Yellow Brick Road."

Now you might wonder what use this could possibly be to anyone. Well, for one thing, it was fun, but a more practical application might be if a realtor wanted to show a client a house painted in a different color, swapping a sedate blue for a dingy tan, for example. I doubt I'll ever use it for anything so purely functional, though.

So why was I out on the bike today instead of in the kayak? I figured my arms were getting stronger at the expense of my legs, and today, it cooled down just enough to make a 30-mile bike ride a pleasant prospect. Unfortunately, the mower had trimmed all the wildflowers I'd hoped to photograph, leaving me very much tempted to do a color swap to turn magenta Fireweed into a rare blue-flowered variety.

Lucifer's Fire

Day 290: Well-meaning friends have advised me that Crocosmia "Lucifer" will take over the corner of the flower bed it occupies. I say, "Let it!" The hummingbirds love the brilliant red flowers. The corner in question is where the bed on the north side of the house meets the bed on the east side. It was formerly occupied by a bristly, unfriendly Picea glauca whose roots threatened the house foundation. Picea was replaced first with a yellow Camellia which was too tender to survive mountain winters. Although I'd originally wanted to put something evergreen in its place, I also wanted to add to my hummingbird garden. Practicality (attracting hummers) won out over functionality (winter foliage). Gotta do what's best for the birdies!

Cool Niche

Day 289: One of the most enjoyable things about geocaching done properly is that it oftentimes takes you to beautiful or significant spots you might otherwise have missed. Pursuit of a cache led me to this "Hidden Waterfall" only a few hundred feet off Skate Creek Road, set in a forested niche and not visible to drivers or cyclists. Never mind that I took the hard way in and discovered a social trail only as I left the site, never mind that I failed to find the proverbial and dreaded "micro in the woods" because it had most likely washed away during the unnamed creek's higher winter flow rate. The hour I spent here was nevertheless a refreshing respite from the heat, plus it got me out of the house. If I'd only thought to bring a towel, I'd have had a quick, icy dunk. Next time! I have to come back for that cache, anyway.

Monkeying Around

Day 288: One of the things I love about kayaking on Lake St. Clair is that you never know what you're going to find. It might be Warblers or bass in the lily pads. It might be Round-leaved Sundews, the highlight of this naturalist's career. It might be pirates or a new friend. Today, it was a cute monkey up a maple tree with a chainsaw who offered a smile for his portrait.

People on the lake are a cordial lot. Some, who by now recognize the bright orange kayak flying the Jolly Roger may ask, "How's the fishing today? Catchin' any?" I give them a true and accurate account. "Not since about ten o'clock. I think they've all gone deep in this heat." Today, one fellow inquired whether or not I lived on the lake. When I told him I drive down from Mount Rainier, he said, "You can moor your kayak at my dock if you'd like. That way you wouldn't have to haul it out so often." He was serious. I thanked him, but declined.

After tracking down the source of the sound of chain-sawing, I engaged the monkey by pointing out the branch over the homeowner's dock. "That's the one you ought to cut off, that bent one." He told me it was in no danger of falling, and explained that the one he was removing had a huge split in it. "Got some good firewood there," I said to the homeowner.

Humans aside, I visited my other little friends as well. Can't go out on the lake without saying hi to the Sundews. Caught a pair of trout, paddled nine miles, and I've drawn a conclusion: people buy lakefront property so they'll have someplace to wear those outfits they wouldn't be caught dead in at a public beach! I love Lake St. Clair.

Liberated Woman

Day 287: On July 19, 1848, a new garment was introduced at the first Women's Rights Convention in Seneca Falls, New York. Known as the Bloomer Dress, it incorporated a variation of pantaloons designed "to improve women's health." In the days of lavish and numerous petticoats, these pantaloons (open along the center seam save for a few inches in the front) gave a woman the freedom to perform her physiological functions with greater ease, duties which otherwise had been difficult to conduct once she was dressed for the day. Alas, Amelia Bloomer's liberating and revolutionary garment was not a lasting success. It did, however, earn her a place in the history books as the inventor of the pantaloons which still bear her name.

Luminaria For Life

Day 286: After giving it some thought, I decided I could stay up past bedtime last night to put in a few more laps on the track and participate in the Luminaria Ceremony at the Relay For Life. As I started my first circuit, I spotted a familiar name on one of the bags. It caught me up short for a second until I remembered how small the world really is: our team captain (Park employee) is a cousin of my fishing buddy's brother-in-law's daughter's husband. Eddie (the brother-in-law), in whose honor the luminary had been created by our captain, passed away several years ago from cancer. Continuing my first lap of the evening, I was amazed at the number of names I recognized, each one a battler against the disease. Some were on the track with me, walking for the Cause. Others were there in the only way they could be, in spirit. Each name I read deepened my sense of connection. I had not realized how many of my friends' lives have felt the fear and grief which cancer brings.

It seems like such a small thing to walk a few laps, and maybe it feels like all you're doing is preaching to the choir, but for several years running, Eatonville had the highest per-capita participation in the country. The people of this small community raised thousands of dollars in support of cancer research, funds raised from registration fees and vendor donations (vendors commit 100% of their proceeds). In light of that, a little sweat and hot, tired feet aren't much to ask. I'll be back next year, you bet.

Muscle Now

Day 285: I'm not exactly sure how I wound up walking four hours on an asphalt track in 90-degree temperatures today. It had something to do with running into a Park acquaintance who happened to be a team captain in the Relay For Life, and a sad story about a lack of team members. The next thing I knew, I'd laid down $10 to register, had been given an official t-shirt which I'd stashed in the car, and was lining up behind the Survivors who took the first lap as a group. Then I started walking. No, "walking" is a poor word to use for what I was doing. They had a DJ and some lively music, and every time I went 'round, I danced the hundred feet in front of the stage. I won a hula hoop for the energy I put into the routine, and it was promptly decorated with purple ribbons by the team captain. From that point on, I did my laps with the hoop in constant motion around my wrist, over my head, or dancing with it as I passed the stage.

As the day went on, several of the Relay's committee members came up to me and expressed concern over whether I was getting enough water and food. "I'm fine," I said. "I took five minutes to have a salad and I just downed a pint of juice. I'm sweating and my skin's not clammy. I'm staying hydrated. Don't worry!" In fact, it felt better to be walking than sitting. I took a five-minute break at the team's booth and wished I'd kept moving.

Most (maybe all) of the teams managed vendors' booths selling anything from elastic bracelets and "neck coolers" to 15-minute massage sessions and reduced-rate memberships in a local fitness center. The headless jock in this photo cracked me up.

Protective Measures

Day 284: Jack. His name is Jack, and he assured me the logs have been on either side of his dock for at least fifteen years. That's how long he's lived there.

After making enquiries of two different neighbors from my kayak, one beckoned to Jack who was sitting on his deck out of my line of sight. "Could you come down and talk to me for a minute?" I hollered up, feeling like he probably thought I was going from dock to dock handing out religious tracts. Hastily, I added, "I want to show you something," which undoubtedly only bolstered his suspicions. When he got within range where I could speak without yelling, I said, "Do you know what you have here? Were you aware that these two logs are absolutely covered with a fairly rare little plant?"

He bent down as if he intended to pick one. "You mean these things that look like Venus Fly-Traps?"

"YES!" I yelled. "They're only found in a few places in Washington! The Lake St. Clair drainage is one of them." I think he heard the panic in my voice because he stood up rather quickly.

As I engaged him in conversation in the hopes of instilling the importance of protecting his Sundew garden, I learned that he'd first spotted them six or seven years ago and had no recollection of seeing them prior to that time. I also learned that when young alders sprout on the logs, he goes out and cuts them down, "because they'll tip the log over if they get too big, and then that tears up my dock."

He seemed to have a rather short memory for names. "Sundew" didn't want to stick, so I didn't try "Drosera" as I had done with two ladies sunning on their dock. They wanted to see pictures, so I paddled over to Jack's logs and took a few quick shots. When I showed them the photos, one of the women said, "I think I've seen those somewhere else on the lake. I thought they were moss." She couldn't remember where.

Suffice to say that at least some of the residents of Lake St. Clair's southeast arm know more than they did when they got out of bed this morning. As for me, there are worse ways to be remembered than as "that crazy naturalist lady who holds people hostage while she gives botany lectures." Jack, as friendly as the women told me to expect of the people who live on the lake, gave me permission to go behind the logs and said, "You can come back and visit them any time."

Osprey, Pandion Haliaetus

Day 283: Although the field guides will frequently describe Ospreys as "uncommon," I see them almost any time I'm out on one of the area's lakes. They are consummate predators upon trout and don't seem to have my discriminating palate when it comes to hatchery-raised fish. That said, they also seem to have extraordinary skill at taking the biggest and best. Many's the time that I've been fiddling with minnows, only to see an Osprey splash down and rise again with a trophy brown held in its talons. Of course, I might have more luck if I rigged with the nine hooks this bird is allowed.

Fishing Chambers Lake

Day 282: For years now, I have been bemoaning the fact that with Fish and Wildlife catering to the trout crowd, there were no good lakes left if you wanted to pursue the spiny-ray fishes: bass, bluegill, perch, crappie. Well, not only is Chambers Lake (Thurston County) home to all those species, it's a kayaker's delight. The shoreline is heavily infested with lily pads, perfect habitat for wily bass. By hugging the lily line at the risk of getting hung up, trolling a Blue Fox spinner at a slow paddling speed seemed to be the ticket. A white Roostertail also worked. My score for the day was five bass (largest, 13"), four perch (all small) and two bluegills (one of which would have made a pair of nice filets if I'd kept it). This smallie was hooked a little too deeply to shake off easily, so I brought it inside the boat where I was less likely to do any major damage while removing the hook. It headed back for the lily pads when I returned it to the water.

To Catch A Kingfisher

Day 281: Belted Kingfisher (Ceryle alcyon) is a skittish little creature who invariably eludes my lens, but yesterday I managed to take one somewhat by surprise in a small lilypad-filled backwater of Lake St. Clair. I was pushing the capabilities of my camera to capture even these grainy shots taken at a substantial distance from my elusive subject.

Contrary to what you might expect, only the female of the species wears two belts. The male has a single dark grey band across the upper part of his breast. The fashion-conscious female sports rust-brown coloration on the flanks and in a smaller band beneath the one on the breast. Both male and female have a distinctive crest on a head which seems disproportionate to the bird's body. Don't be fooled, though. Ungainly as a Kingfisher may appear, they are very skilled at taking small fish and amphibians directly from the water.

Happy As A Crow In Sundews

Day 280: I was happy to discover today that my memory was not failing me. Last year, there really was another log which had a healthy colony of Sundews growing on it. I re-found it today.

It seems that over the winter, one of the homeowners on the lake decided he wanted to isolate a section of water beside his dock where he could grow those dratted invasive water lilies which are choking so many of our waterways (they're still sold for "water gardens," but ignorant people also plant them in lakes). Apparently said homeowner went scrounging up Lake St. Clair's northwest arm (Sundew Arm) and shanghaied a pair of 60' logs to use as his barricade. One of them happened to be the Sundew log I thought I'd seen earlier and subsequently lost. I never forget the details of trees, rocks or other features of terrain despite the fact that I'll forget a human face in thirty seconds or less, and I recognized certain projecting branches and knots on it when I saw it today. The other log is a mystery. I don't know where he found it, but it is also lavishly covered in Sundews for most of its length.

As you can see from this photo, they are very happy in their new home and are blooming like mad! To think that I almost didn't take a turn in this arm today, tired as I was after paddling from early morning to late afternoon. It only takes a colony of Sundews to keep me content!

Philadelphus

Day 279: A few days ago, I came home from an outing near the dinner hour and as I mounted the steps to the front door, I caught a sweetness in the air which at first I failed to identify. It always takes me by surprise. "Ah, Philadelphus!" I said aloud as I put the key in the lock. "It's that time of year again!"

Soon, the fragrant white blossoms will have a crowd of Swallowtail butterflies investigating their hearts. I've already seen a few flitting about, and bees as well. Oh, for honey flavoured with this pollen! But alas, I have only one tree and plenty of other attractors.

It's been fifteen years or more since I brutally uprooted a single sucker from property a friend was renting. We had no shovel or trowel, so the two of us grabbed hold and pulled and pulled, reminiscent of the crew of animals and the giant turnip in the Russian folk tale. When it popped free, we went spilling backwards just like they did, one stick of Philadelphus, two or three short roots at the end, held in our hands. After wrapping the roots in wet paper towels, I drove my prize home and some three hours later, put it in a pot of soil which I then sank in the ground just off my front porch. I left it there through two winters, and then stuck it in its present location at the corner of the garage. Today, its tallest branches reach above the roof peak, laden with the sweet white flowers which perfume every corner of the yard in the later hours of the day.

Best Of Show

Day 278: I didn't want to carry my camera while marching in Eatonville's Fourth of July parade, but as we queued up for the procession, I was kicking myself for that decision. Several FarmAll tractors were lined up and r'arin' to go! I can never resist a FarmAll. Oh, sure, there were a couple of those green things there as well...glorified lawnmowers, those, and much noisier than their red counterparts, but I won't give them a second glance. No, a FarmAll is the only REAL tractor you'll find in a Fourth of July parade, and fortunately, the Eatonville event was so well attended that I was able to catch one of them after our Park group had completed their circuit. FarmAll - Best of Show!

Hot As A Firecracker

Day 277: Easy to grow, fibrous begonias are great for edgings or hanging baskets. I used this dark-foliage variety to fill in the centers of the two baskets above my back porch. They get plenty of sun until 2 PM and are rewarding me with "hot as a firecracker" color for the Fourth of July. Happy holidays!

Mother Isn't Always Right

Day 276: My mother was responsible for instilling a love of botanizing in me, although as a child, I didn't realize how inaccurate her identifications frequently were. I think "Turk's Caps" were one of the first erroneous IDs to come to my attention, and despite numerous attempts to correct her wayward nomenclature, when Columbia Lilies came into bloom, she invariably told me, "The Turk's Caps are out!"

Strangely enough, these "tiger lilies" were among her favourite flowers (second only to Skunk Cabbage). Their flowering season coincided with her birthday, which of course lent them a personalized significance. Her father (my grandpa) had come from the Midwest where a similar, red-flowered variety of Lilium was in fact commonly called Turk's Cap Lily. He transferred the term to Lilium columbianum, and thus it entered my mother's lexicon of inaccuracies. By the time I reached an age to know the difference, I had some serious unlearning to do! To this day, I still occasionally slip and call them "Turk's Caps." Hard fact to face, but it's possible for your mother to be wrong.

Field Trip

Day 275: I had an unexpected opportunity today to take a mini-field trip with David Biek, the author of "Flora of Mount Rainier National Park" and his colleague Susan McDougall after discussing with them my find of Round-leaved Sundews at Lake St. Clair. Little did I know what a surprise awaited me. I will not be revealing the location of this lush colony which I would estimate covered 6-9 square feet of ground in an absolute carpet of carnivory, but you can be assured that I will be monitoring it very closely and quite a bit more often than the St. Clair group.

In addition to Drosera rotundifolia, David and Susan also pointed out Tofieldia glutinosa (False Asphodel) and Hypericum anagalloides (Tinker's Penny), both species I had not previously recorded. The Asphodel was a less than optimum example and the light was wrong for me to capture the yellow flowers of Tinker's Penny, but both are accessible for a later photo session.

My New Favourite Coffee Mug

Day 274: ...and my thanks to Paul John for permission to use/adapt his hilarious graphic, originally submitted to the Bird Phenology Program! It took me a while to find a place to have it printed on a mug, and several trips back and forth before we got it into a form which wasn't either too wide or too tall to fit in the space allotted.

If you're at all familiar with the family of Flycatchers known as the Empidonax complex, this "field guide" will have you in stitches. It begins in the upper left corner with Least and progresses through Willow, Alder, Acadian, Pacific-slope, Cordilleran, Hammond's, Dusky and Gray, culminating in "Buff-breasted with bad backlighting" and "Heavily oiled leucistic yellow-bellied." All the bird heads are identical, an issue most of us have encountered in the field all too many times.

Flycatchers on the west coast are the equivalent of the east coast's "confusing fall warblers" catalogued over several pages in Roger Tory Peterson's book. There aren't as many, but personally, I think they're harder to differentiate.