Let's Dew Dinner!

Day 231: Good weather convinced me I needed to make another kayak trip to check on my kids at Lake St. Clair. I'd hoped I might find them in bloom, but my records indicate I have at least four more weeks to wait for that event. In fact, I searched for any sign of blossom stalks arising today, but found none. On the other hand, I couldn't help but notice that the Sundews aren't suffering for lack of food, or for variety in their diet. Mosquitoes, wasps, beetles and even spiders provide a veritable smorgasbord of tasty treats.

But Sundews weren't the only interesting things I encountered during this trip. Over the next couple of days, I'll show you a few more reasons I love kayaking on Lake St. Clair.

Singin' The Blues

Day 230: I was singin' the blues because the steady stream of Rufous Hummingbirds at the feeders seemed to have dwindled over the last week, but then I discovered why. They're going to the Columbine, the Honeysuckle and the Delphiniums instead! It's good to see my clientele turning to a more natural diet, and after all, that's what my garden is about: hummers and pollinators. Most of the plants I've added over the last several years have been chosen with them in mind.

While Delphiniums draw bees as well as hummingbirds, they come with a built-in "bee," the term arising from the central structure's resemblance to the insect. More than once, I've bent over next to a Delphinium only to find that a real bee was nestled into the flower's "bee," gathering pollen. Seen side on, the blossom "bee" is even fuzzy!

With birds and bees humming happily in my garden, I'm joyfully singin' the blues: Delphinium blues!

Jelly Beans

Day 229: You might think these are blueberries, but the tag claims they're jelly beans - Jelly Bean Dwarf Blueberry, as a matter of fact. There's nothing "dwarf" about the berries, though! They're in the medium-to-large range, and the bush is absolutely covered with them.

Several years ago, I planted two blueberry bushes, two varieties to ensure cross-pollination since they were not the "self-fertile" type. One of them died off, shaded out by the contorted filbert which is the showpiece of my yard. The other one wasn't doing well, so I decided to move it to a large pot which I'd sunk to its waist in the ground. I wanted to add another bush to replace the one which had died, but somewhere along the line, the cultivar tags had gone missing and I couldn't remember what variety either plant had been. Trying to re-follow the logic which had inspired my original purchase, I bought a mid-season bloomer (Blue Gold), and last year got a nice crop of berries. This spring, I wanted to add another bush, but couldn't find a full-sized mid-season plant. That's how my garden has come to be full of Jelly Beans.

All three plants are bearing well, although the foliage on the older bushes is rather sparse. I'm hoping some judicious pruning and a little blueberry-specific fertilizer will give them a boost next year.

Spoon Garden

Day 228: You can't have too much of a good thing, not when you're talking about Spoon Flowers. I managed to score all three colours this year, and have planted them together in a 10-gallon pot set at the end of the raspberry row beside the birdbath. I can enjoy them from the living room window there, an advantage over having them in the flower bed closer to the house. I bought them as soon as Watson's set them out, a tricky proposition because I'm in the next Plant Hardiness Zone due to the difference in altitude. They had to be coaxed along indoors for a month before I could start hardening them off on the back porch. Once danger of killing frost had passed, I moved them to the pot. They're thriving in the "Spoon Bowl," gently fertilized by the Evening Grosbeaks and Spotted Towhees as they stand in line for a drink at the birdbath. Now there's a bit of gardening advice you won't find in any book!

Pacific Northwe't Geocaching

Day 227: Since the advent of cell phones with GPS capabilities, I've become less interested in geocaching, due to the fact that the majority of caches placed now simply do not take you to interesting places. "Skirt-lifter micros" abound in urban areas, squeezed into every space available under Geocaching.com's guidelines. I used to be a numbers-junkie, going out with my partner to grab 70-80 caches in a day, but that's lost its appeal. When I do go out now, I prefer to go after "paddle caches" in my kayak or to take on those with more challenging terrain ratings, especially if they are in remote areas and may require a long hike. "Better," I say, "to hike 18 miles for one five-star hide than to log fifty crummy micros."

That said, the Pacific Northwe't offers some serious obstacles even when you're hunting for a full-sized ammo box, as my partner in the sport demonstrates in this photo. I had found this cache early on in my career, but Dan had not been able to claim it before the flood of 2006 cut off access to this area. The bridge across the Nisqually was recently replaced, so he asked if I'd be willing to go with him on a search. Always up for an adventure, I agreed. I couldn't recall the exact location, but knew it wasn't too far off the road. Ah, those magical words: "not too far off the road!" Dan successfully made the find without falling in the creek, breaking a leg in the ditch or getting prickled by devil's-club, happy to check this one off his list.

Superstition

Day 226: I have a particular fondness for "black" flowers and Superstition is about as black as iris can be. Seen here in bright light at close range, it looks purple, but from a distance (my living room window, for example), its hue deepens until the purple is no more than a highlight on its midnight falls. It is susceptible to variations in soil pH, however. Rootstock from this same plant produced mahogany-red blossoms when grown in another part of the yard.

Towel Day 2016

Day 225: "Don't Panic!" I was afraid I might have to defend myself in words similar to those before this photo shoot was over, but luckily, the Park's road crew was otherwise engaged. Had they brought heavy equipment back to the landing, they might have caught me running back and forth wearing my jammies, bathrobe and bowler hat, sock-footed on the gravel and a towel over my shoulder, carrying an empty teacup and electronic copy of "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy." I doubt they would have understood that I was standing in for that hoopy frood Arthur Dent while he slipped down to the pub for a pint, leaving me in position in front of the grader. One cannot allow a bypass to be put through one's property unless one is properly fortified, no matter what the council claims. Fortunately, Arthur returned in time for me to escape without being seen. I think that gives us...what? two minutes? before the Vogons roll through. Do you know where your towel is?

Umbilicaria Angulata

Day 224: Yes, I know this one won't win any beauty contests, but it is the first of its genus that I have found. It is a lichen: Umbilicaria angulata. Joe Dreimiller and I set off at 8 AM to hike up Rampart Ridge with the intention of giving one talus slope a more thorough going-over. We'd seen some odd Cladonias there during Bio-Blitz and hadn't been able to identify them readily in the field. On the way up, we paused to get photos of Parmelia hygrophila, and while surveying for other examples of that species, we discovered the Umbilicaria. Later in the day, we found this textbook specimen near the top of Rampart.

The Umbilicarias take their name from the fact that they attach to their substrate with a single holdfast. Although this lichen at first seems appressed, the lobes are in fact free of the rock, extending from a "bellybutton" (slightly below the center point in this photo). Black, irregular apothecia set in small depressions and a black lower surface with abundant, tiny branched rhizines clinch the identity.

In six and a half hours of searching under intermittent rain, we located three identifiable species to add to my Park database. I got GPS coordinates and better photos of some we'd classified during Bio-Blitz, and predictably found a couple more which I can't nail down. But the day was not altogether stellar. On the way down, I took a fall on a slick puncheon walkway, wrenching foot, ankle and knee in different directions. I wasn't hurt, but the knee is showing signs of bruising and my backside is going to be purple by morning!

Sarracenia

Day 223: Don't let her modesty fool you. Madame Sarracenia is dangerous...if you're a bug. Even the flowers of this Pitcher Plant can trap and digest the insects which venture inside the central dome-like structure hidden behind that coy veil of petals. Sarracenia rubra is a carnivore, one of two species I keep under cultivation in saucers of water on my back porch. Both are hardy in the Pacific Northwest, although when nights dip into the low 20s, I bring them indoors. This year, Madame Sarracenia has sent up four blossoms for me, each rising 14-18" above the rim of her pot. Only one is fully open at this time (it's tangerine-sized) and I suspect it will have faded by the time the last one opens. Hopefully, we'll have two at once at some point in the near future.

Anemone Oregana, Oregon Anemone

Day 222: Earlier this month (May 7), I posted photos of Anemone lyallii, a less-common cousin of uncommon Anemone oregana. Today, while out with my geocaching partner on a muddy expedition covering logging roads and ATV trails, I discovered the latter species. "Wait! Wait! Back up! I see a plant I haven't seen before!" In point of fact, we'd passed the turnoff to the cache, so backing up was on the agenda anyway. Dan obligingly stopped when I yelled, "Anemone oregana! I'm sure of it!" and we both hopped out of the truck to be met with a strong breeze and light rain.

Dan offered a boot for a makeshift tripod as I got down on my knees in the ditch, several small alders threatening to take off my glasses or my ears, and then he held a pair of backpacker's sleeping pads to block the wind so I could get good documentation of this uncommon species. Even though I hadn't been geocaching in some time and was pleased to have found several over this excursion, finding a "life list" plant was definitely the high point of the day.

Oregana can be told from lyallii by its numerous stamens (35 or more) and larger size. These were at least twice the size of the lyallii I recorded at Longmire. The leaflets are somewhat more slender and pointy, and do not resemble columbine as much as those of lyallii.

Bio-Blitz Big Day

Day 221: Under an ominous weather forecast, today's Bio-Blitz teams were wondering if the event was going to turn into a swim meet before they returned with their species surveys. It had been raining rather vigorously when I left home, but during the preliminary briefings, precipitation dwindled to a light drizzle. We dispersed to our various assignments, and my crew headed up Rampart Ridge. Our goal was to make the entire loop, but it quickly became apparent that we had too much to document in the time allotted to us, so after taking close to two hours to complete the first mile, we began considering alternatives. By the time we reached the overlook, we had recorded over 70 images of lichens, bryophytes, fungi and mycoheterotrophic plants and it was time to turn around. We took a brief lunch in a light shower, the only real rain we'd experienced up to that point.

Among the species we documented were Round-leaved Sundew (Drosera rotundifolia), both Pilophorus acicularis and clavatus (Matchstick lichens), and one solitary specimen of Usnea. We found two examples of a colour variation of Corallorhiza maculata (canary yellow!) and a number of emergent Allotropa virgata (Candystick) and Hypopitys monotropa (Pinesap). All in all, it was a very rewarding day, and it only started raining in earnest as we made our final approach to the Longmire parking area. Bio-Blitz was a blast!

The Hunt For Fairy Barf

Day 220: Up until a month and a half ago, I had only seen Icmadophila ericetorum referred to as "fairy barf" in one lichen reference. Since then, I've encountered the name at least half a dozen times in unrelated field guides and on authoritative websites. Common names for lichens are not standardized, but it would appear that this one is achieving popularity rather quickly. Since pre-teen children seem to delight in innocent grossness, I decided to base today's kid-level Bio-Blitz lichen program on a hunt for fairy barf.

Six groups of seven or eight fourth and fifth grade students passed through my station on the Trail of the Shadows, usually starting at my favourite rock (the one which holds both species of Pilophorus), proceeding counter-clockwise to end at the junction with the Rampart Ridge trail. There was plenty of fairy barf along the way, and most of the kids took the opportunity to make a botanical drawing of the species. However, much to my surprise, almost every one of them sought out examples of the other species in their guides as well as those for which I provided botanical specimens. Even more surprising was the fact that in almost every group, at least one youngster asked me if Alectoria was "Old-Man's Beard," a very similar species. When I explained how to tell the difference, one young man searched and searched until at last he found a specimen of Usnea, and brought it to me to demonstrate the "elastic band" in the core. It was enormously rewarding to see young people taking a genuine interest in any science, but their enthusiasm for lichenology astonished me. I can only hope my adult audience tomorrow is as receptive! In the final tally, I have to say that Day One of Bio-Blitz was a rousing success.

Bio-Blitz Lichens

Day 219: Are you ready for the Blitz? Mount Rainier National Park is holding a two-day "bio-blitz" during which student groups will participate in educational programs covering a variety of natural-history subjects, and adult volunteers will hike with scientists, taking photographs and documenting as many species as possible within their chosen topic. Your Humble Narrator has the privilege of being one of the scientist leads for the project, and if you need a hint to guess the subject on which I will be expounding, you are guilty of not paying attention in class.

Over the last several days, I've gathered samples ("for educational purposes") demonstrating a dozen or so different lichen genera, and if I'd worried about them being too dry last week, rainy weather has brought them back to full glory. So much for keeping them in a cooler, separated by damp paper towels! The adults on my Saturday hike will be looking for lichens of all sorts, but at the same time, keeping their eyes peeled for the elusive, pioneering Pilophorus in the hopes of furthering our knowledge of its timeline and its altitudinal range. The fourth and fifth graders who will be with me for tomorrow's session will be hunting down "fairy barf" (Icmadophila ericetorum), experiencing the observational benefits of making botanical drawings, and maybe winning small prizes for catching Crow when she says "litch-en" instead of "like-en." It promises to be damp day, but a rewarding one nevertheless, and hopefully, these events will lead to more like them in the future. I'm excited!

Pair O' Parrots

Day 218: I've spent several hours sitting out on my back step, hoping to capture Brewer's Blackbird through my lens. Brewer's was a Life List sighting for me when they first appeared at the feeder a few days ago, one male and one female. Standing at my window, I remarked on the yellow eye, but as soon as I moved, he was off like a shot. A few hours later, the male returned and fed on the ground, again flying off at my slightest movement. I took up a vigil on the porch, but although other birds flocked to the food, Brewer's never came within range. Purple Finches, Towhees, Cowbirds, Black-Headed Grosbeaks and assorted sparrows visited by the dozens, giving me plenty of photo opportunities, but for today, a "pair o' parrots" (Evening Grosbeaks) stole my heart. Crows and Ravens notwithstanding, Porch Parrots are my favourite people.

Herbarium Specimen

Day 217: I was a little unsure of protocol when I gathered two specimens of Tussilago farfara from the Park even though they were slated for removal, and decided that I'd better check with our Plant Ecologist before turning them over to the Invasive Plant Council. I'm glad I did, or I might have been guilty of a federal offense. Even noxious weeds growing within the boundaries of a national park are government property. I could have disposed of them in a government trash can, but I was prohibited from giving them away, even though both the IPC's and the Park's herbarium specimens eventually wind up at the UW's Burke Museum. After some discussion with Arnie regarding the irony of this situation, it was decided that I could keep them at home for pressing and drying, since he didn't have a place in his office where they wouldn't interfere with daily operations.

Per the instructions I had been given by the IPC, I placed the specimens between sheets of acid-free paper backed by newsprint and cardboard to absorb moisture. Stacks of encyclopaedias and dictionaries served as my press. Although I have not glued them down (I don't have the proper archival cement), they're ready to turn over to Arnie for further disposition. This was the best one, showing both the flowers as well as the leaf and root structure.

Sourdough Uprising

Day 216: No, it's not the Gold Rush, but there's a sourdough uprising! It's been a while since I made bread the old-fashioned way, kneading it by hand. The convenience of a bread machine has spoiled me, but recently, I got a hankering for genuine sourdough, the kind where the recipe says, "Do not use metal utensils or bowls." I was hampered by not having a sourdough start, so obtained one from a friend's daughter and promptly killed it, having forgotten all about the "no metal" rule. Resolving to do better next time, I set out on a starter hunt. Through the medium of the Eatonville Community Co-op, I got in touch with a confessed "sourdough enabler" who provided me with a start which had come to her through a man who had originally obtained it in...sit down...South Africa! Irene the Enabler had been using hers for about 15 years. That said, the sample she gave me was small, not enough for even a single loaf by my recipe. Over three or four days, I doubled it twice until I had the requisite cup and a half (with leftovers for replenishing). Today, I turned out the loaf, and oh, it smells divine! Plus, I'd forgotten how rewarding it is to feel the dough develop and mature under your hands in the kneading process. Sourdough is back!

A quick-and-cheaty sourdough bread can be made using commercial yeast, but the Real Thing uses only a starter for leavening. Fyrst, obtaine ye an starte, for no oother meanes will provyde a guid loaf ("fyrst catch ye an hare" to make "jugged hare").

To make the "sponge":
1 cup of starter, stirred (from refrigerated storage)
2/12 cups white flour
2 cups 85-90° water

Put the starter in a large bowl (4 quart), add the water and stir until smooth. Gradually add the flour and stir until all lumps disappear (about 5 minutes). Cover the bowl loosely with plastic wrap and set in a warm place for 12-24 hours. Stir down any crust or liquid which has separated during this process. Return at least 1 cup of the "sponge" to the starter crock, and put it back in the refrigerator. You should have 3 cups of "sponge" left. Now you're ready to make bread!

To make sourdough white bread:
3 cups of "sponge"
6 1/2 cups of white flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 1/2 cup milk, warmed to 85-90°
2 Tbsp. butter
2 tsp. salt

Warm the milk, add salt and butter, and stir until butter is melted. Put 3 cups of "sponge" in a large bowl and stir in 1 cup of flour. Add sugar, stir; then add the milk. Stir thoroughly, and then begin mixing in flour 1/2 cup at a time. When the dough becomes too stiff to stir with a spoon, turn it out on a lightly floured board and begin kneading. You should knead for at least 10 minutes, adding more flour as required to keep the dough from sticking to the board. Be careful not to add too much flour! You want the dough to be smooth and elastic.

Place the dough in a greased bowl (4 quart) and turn the dough once so that it is lightly greased on all sides. This will prevent it forming a dry crust. Cover the bowl with a cloth and set it in a warm location. Allow it to rise for two hours. Punch it down (a five-second knead), and then allow it to raise for another half hour.

Next, punch it down again and form it into 2 oblong loaves or divide the dough and place it in two standard loaf pans. Cover the loaves with a cloth and allow them to raise for an additional 1 1/2 hours.

Bake at 375° for 40-45 minutes, or until the loaves make a "hollow" sound when tapped with a fingernail. Remove from the oven and place on a cooling rack. Brush the tops with butter to make a softer crust.

NB: Your starter will keep for years if you replenish it every couple of weeks. If you're not planning to bake bread for a while, just add a little sugar and stir it in. Starter should be replenished with new "sponge" at least once a month.

Vancouver Sea Breeze

Day 215: In the Pacific Northwest, you cannot beat Clematis for putting on the best show in town, and "Vancouver Sea Breeze" is the star in my garden. Still a young plant and barely four feet up the trellis, it has at least ten fully open flowers and more buds waiting in the wings. Off to the right, a yellow columbine was resurrected during my spring digging frenzy. I thought it had disappeared. I'll mark it to be moved to a better location next year because at this spot, it's only an extra in the play.

Little Shop Of Horrors

Day 214: Any time I've posted a picture and description of Sarracenia, the comments invariably include some reference to Audrey from "Little Shop of Horrors" (a film I had never seen until recently). You see, she's carnivorous...well, technically "insectivorous," but you get the idea. She eats bugs by the hundreds. In fact, the saucer of water in which she rests her feet is a breeding ground for mosquito larvae, but the air around her is remarkably mosquito-free. She has some help from another Pitcher (a different variety) with an equally prodigious appetite, and between the two of them, they maintain my back porch as one of the few places in my yard where I can sit without being eaten alive.

I've had her for four or five years now, and each year, she's rewarded me with one or two bizarre flowers. The stems stand well above her pitchers, rising 16-18" above the pot. When fully open, the blossom shows an umbrella-shaped structure in the center, five tongue-like petals draped around the dome. Last year, a third bud appeared but did not mature. This year, she has FOUR, each of which has been visibly swelling over the last several hot days, and new pitchers are developing to replace those nipped by frost when I accidentally left her outside on a 22-degree night. She's a hardy one, Audrey, but that was a bit much to ask.

Tellima Grandiflora, Fringe-Cup

Day 213: So here's the thought process...I'm out in the woods and I see a tall, slightly hairy stem with little green bells hanging more or less off one side of it. The top ones aren't open yet (that's a clue, especially given the height) and there's a slight pink tinge to some of the lower ones (that's another clue). The leaves are also slightly hairy and remind me of Heuchera which, aggravatingly, I have no problem remembering. I say to myself, "Mitella...no, that's not right. That's Mitrewort. This is...that other thing, the one that looks kinda like it." Then the mental search begins in earnest, and the first item to mind is Tiarella. Just that fast, I follow with reproach, "No, bonehead, that's Foamflower."

Having successfully remembered Mitella, Heuchera and Tiarella, you'd think I'd be able to pull this one out of the hat, but the scientific name eludes me. A tenth of a mile further down the trail, the common name pops into my head, "Fringe-cup! Okay, got that part...now what? Tia...Teme...Melitta...that's a coffee pot...dammit. WHY can't I ever remember that word?" And to add insult to injury, a quarter mile beyond the specimen with the annoyingly elusive name, I recall having read somewhere that it's an anagram of "Mitella." I'm remembering a lot, just not what I really NEED to remember. For example, I remember that Mitrewort's petals are more lacy and look "fringier" than those of Fringe-cup, but that doesn't help. I know what the plant is. I just can't say the name. It may take me a full mile, but eventually, I get it: Tellima. The "grandiflora" part comes easily on its heels. There's no mistaking how much more "grandi" its "flora" are than those of Mitella.

Tellima grandiflora...I'd like to get my hands on the taxonomist who anagrammed the name of a similar plant to get that one...a little botanical joke on the rest of us who have to try to delve it up from the old cerebral database.

Me And My Shadow

Day 212: It's easy to see how Pacific Starflower (Trientalis latifolia) got its common name. Often seen in moist lowland forests, Starflower prefers partial shade. When the sun does peek through the canopy and falls on its white or pinkish-white blossoms, they shine with stellar beauty. The flowers (one or two) are held aloft on thready stems arising from the center of whorled leaves, appearing almost detached from the plant itself. Curiously, although the flower usually has six points, the number of petals can vary from 5-7. The next time you're out and about in Starflower country, amuse yourself with a "four-leaf clover" hunt for blossoms with odd numbers of petals.

Corallorhiza Maculata, Spotted Coralroot

Day 211: Following on the heels of Corallorhiza trifida, C. maculata is making an appearance in the lowland forests. Two days ago, I saw a newly emerged (unopen) specimen in a friend's woods. Yesterday, three surprised me in Pack Forest where I have never found them before.

The Corallorhizas are mycoheterotrophic species, which is to say that they lack chlorophyll and rely on the presence of specific ectomycorrhiza (fungi) which allow them to uptake nutrients from the soil. Not all of these associations have been discovered, but we do know that C. maculata is dependent on mycorrhiza of the genus Russula. The presence of Russulas in the autumn do not guarantee that an area will host Corallorhiza maculata, but if maculata is present in the spring, you can rest assured that Russulas will be evident later in the year at the same site.

There is a lesson in this, particularly for mushroom hunters: everything holds hands with something else in Nature. As strange as it may sound, over-picking of a mushroom species could lead to the extirpation or extinction of an Orchid. That's serious food for thought.

Mertensia Paniculata

Day 210: Sprangly, bushy, tall Mertensia paniculata would seem to be a weed if it wasn't for its pretty "bluebell" flowers. Also called "tall bluebells" or "lungwort," the scientific name distinguishes it from several other unrelated plants commonly referred to as "bluebells." They include Campanula ("Scotch bluebell" or "Harebell" and "Scouler's bluebell") and Hyacinthoides non-scripta ("Scilla," aka "English Wood Hyacinth"), the latter a garden plant which can be considered delightful or a nuisance, depending on your point of view. To my way of thinking, use of a scientific name eliminates confusion, and in fact often describes a feature which is helpful in identifying a species. In this case, "paniculata" refers to the panicled inflorescence, i.e., flowers hanging loosely from multiple branches off a main stem.

Mertensia paniculata likes moisture, so look for it in meadows and along streams, or in other damp locations. It may stand up to five feet in height. The flowers appear among the topmost leaves, and although they are usually blue, occasionally a pink one will appear within the same inflorescence. Shouldn't those be called "pinkbells" if one follows the illogical convention of common names?

Fern, Comma

Day 209: Yesterday's walk in Pack Forest served a dual purpose: to do a patrol for invasive plants and to pay a visit to Butterfly Alley. I've made several trips to the Alley over the last two months, but with very little success. I missed the emergence of the Mourning Cloaks, one of the first species to appear in the spring. The Commas follow a month or so later, and are usually quite numerous. Their heavy bodies and ragged wings make them very distinctive, but issues arise when trying to determine whether an individual specimen is Polygonia faunus or Polygonia satyrus.

This problem opens the door for me to explain a little about field-guide photography. When you are taking pictures of specimens for identification purposes, it is important to capture as many markings or features as possible. You should also maintain a good depth of field for your subject; having the entire critter in focus is mandatory. The background can sometimes be helpful in making a positive ID if the habitat gives clues as to what plants may be host species, but it should not be so cluttered that it becomes a lesson in camouflage.

Let's take Mr. Comma as an example of art vs. science. As hard as I tried to sneak up on him from a better angle, I could not get into a position where the view of the lower margin of the hind wing was not obscured by the curled, dry fern. Seen in the dorsal view, Polygonia faunus shows a darker border than Polygonia satyrus. Without that crucial piece of information and lacking a ventral view, I can only say that based on previous observations at this site, I believe (but am not positive) that this is Polygonia faunus.

Clematis "Vancouver Sea Breeze"

Day 208: Little by little, I am managing to convert my garden from pink to blue. The pink bits came with the house, and at the time, I wasn't going to quibble. As it was, a friend helped me excavate two overgrown, weedy flower beds to a depth of 18", the two of us sifting the soil through our fingers to remove any undesirable roots and making a stack of others to replant. Oh, there were a few lovelies in the lot: tall delphiniums, showy peonies and such, but the majority of our salvage consisted of columbines in a variety of shades of pink. With the exception of invasives, I do not have it in me to hate a flower, so as I added plants in shades of blue and purple, I removed the pinky ones to locations where I'll see them less often.

Among the ones I added, a deep-hued Clematis was one of my favourites. It climbed a trellis, marched across the awning over the back step, tangled itself in power lines and became lovingly known as the "Purple Wall." After a decade or so, it diminished in vigour, and whether the problem was that of its inherent life expectancy or some lack of care on my part, I did not know. I tried transplanting it, and eventually, it died. As much as I had loved its church-purple blooms, I decided it was time for something different and planted "Vancouver Sea Breeze" in a new location. This morning, I was greeted with three open flowers, the first of the season, and at least a dozen more are in various stages of development.

Penny Perspectives - Anemone Lyallii

Day 207: When visitors to Mount Rainier National Park hear the word "anemone," the most likely image to spring to mind will be that of the "mop-heads" so common in sub-alpine meadows. Less frequently, people may recall floppy white flowers with yellow centers and lacy leaves. Those icons of the high country are Western Pasqueflower (Anemone occidentalis). However, they are not the only anemones to be found in the Park. Anemone lyallii (Western Wood Anemone) is much less common and much more elusive. Its colour is variable, ranging from white to pink or pale lavender. It can be distinguished from its close cousin Anemone oregana by the number of stamens and its somewhat smaller size. Shown here in a Penny Perspective, Anemone lyallii is truly a tiny treasure!

Corallorhiza Mertensiana

Day 206: "You're looking for pink asparagus." Those were the words I used to describe our quest to Park colleague and friend Anne Spillane this morning. We'd already visited Corallorhiza trifida at two locations and had discovered one more specimen, bringing the year's total to an astonishing 17. During the hunt, I had noticed a few spears of Corallorhiza mertensiana (a related and much more common species) poking their little heads up through the forest duff. I asked Anne if she would like to visit a site I call the "Mertensiana Grove," a suggestion to which she readily agreed. It was there where the search for pink asparagus began in earnest. By the time we had covered roughly half an acre of mossy ground in open forest, our tally of Western Coralroot surely numbered over 100. There were 21 spears in this colony alone, more evidence that 2016 promises to be another banner year for mycoheterotrophs.

As a footnote, our trip also included removal of two more specimens of Tussilago farfara, the invasive I described a few days ago. Both were found at the site of the original infestation. In a moment of whimsy, I put today's score in an interoffice envelope directed to our Plant Ecologist.

Out And About In A Boat

Lest my word-play pass over the heads of readers outside the PNW, I must explain that when pronounced by a we't-coast Canadian, the phrase "out and about in a boat" makes no distinction in the round vowel sounds; "ooout and abooout in a booout" serves as a yardstick by which to measure Vancouverian origins as surely as a fondness for poutine. In addition to pronouncing "lichen" to rhyme with "kitchen," I am often found to be going ooout and abooout in a booout whenever the weather invites me, or rather, in a kayak.

For the most part, the shoreline of my favourite lake is either developed or too steep to "put into port" for a stretch break. I've managed to find short-term moorage in all but one arm of the X, although at high water, exiting the boat can be a little tricky. This location gives the easiest access to dry land, but on my most recent trip, I noticed that the big cedar tree on the right had had the lower three feet of its bark clawed off by some kind of varmint. There were no tooth-marks to indicate a beaver at work, and the size of the scratches eliminated even the smallest of bear cubs. Discussion of the anomaly with Kevin brought the culprit to light: porcupine! From this point forward, I will be more cautious when I steer my little craft into this secret pirate's lair.

Freaky Fungus - Lycogala Epidendrum

Day 204: There are some truly strange things out there in the woods, and if I hadn't gone exploring on my lunch break today despite the rain, I might never have found this ephemeral jewel. I'm not going out very far on the limb when it comes to making an identification because I'm clearly out of my depth. That said, I will make an informed guess (operative word being "guess") in defining this particular specimen as a species of Trichia, a Slime Mold, and possibly Trichia botrytis, or Orange Drops. Whatever it is, it looked for all the world to me like someone had stuck wads of orange-pink bubblegum all over a mossy, rotting log, colonies of the fungus occurring every few inches over an area approximately 1' x 3'. Needless to say, I called our Plant Ecologist out of his office to have a look, and the two of us poked and prodded it sufficiently to learn that it was very soft and gelatinous, and the interior was filled with a watery goo of the same colour. Arnie admitted he had no idea what it was beyond a slime mold. I will be attempting to find someone who can confirm or reject my tentative identification.

Footnote: My thanks go out to Angela Mele for identifying this as Lycogala epidendrum. She adds that it was "the first species of slime mold ever put into print, in the mid 1500's in a German herbarium."

Portrait Of A Carnivore

Day 203: Some wit once remarked that while we accept that bugs eat plants, it seems almost a violation of natural order for a plant to eat bugs. Drosera rotundifolia (Round-Leaved Sundew) has the practice down to a fine science. Each of the tiny hairs on its thumbnail-sized leaves is tipped with a gland which exudes a sticky, sugary fluid. The fluid serves to attract and trap insects, the soft parts of which are then digested by proteolytic enzymes and reduced to nutrients which the plant can utilize.

Since discovering Sundews on Lake St. Clair several years ago, each time I go kayaking on the lake, my first priority is to check on their status. One month ago, they were just beginning to emerge from hibernation. During their winter rest, new leaves can be observed only as tightly curled buds in a rosette. As temperatures warm in the spring, the leaves unfurl and begin to grow, to be followed by significantly taller scapes (flower-bearing stalks) in early summer (mid-July at the St. Clair location). The inflorescence may consist of up to 15 white five-petalled flowers. The plant propagates both by seed and vegetatively, but true to its name, the species is very intolerant of shady conditions. The colonies on a free-floating "island" of old dock timbers which drifted into a sheltered cove have declined radically since I first saw them. However, those growing on two logs anchored in full-day sun are thriving.

A Three Turtle Day

Day 202: I'm going to be quoting a lot from the Washington Herp Atlas here because I know little or nothing about herps. Initially, I was excited about having seen turtles while I was out in the kayak today, but in researching the exact species, I discovered that this is a non-native Pond Slider (Trachemys scripta), easily identified by the red patch just behind the eye. The males have long claws, and in fact of the three specimens I photographed, two were male. I believe the one in this photo is female.

Native to the eastern part of the country, Pond Sliders probably got their toehold in Washington when someone released pet turtles into the wild or they escaped captivity. They were commonly available in pet stores until 1975 when concern over children contracting salmonella stopped their sale. That said, the Herp Atlas database says that the species may be unsuited to our climate because notable die-offs involving large numbers of Trachemys have occurred in some areas. Although these turtles do compete with native species, there is no plan in place currently to remove them from Washington waters.

I think I need to get up on the other side of the bed. I seem to be on a binge of finding things I wish I hadn't found.

An Uncommon Evil

Day 201: Not all rare/uncommon plants are things to celebrate; case in point, Tussilago farfara, European Coltsfoot. This invasive has only recently started showing up in Washington and British Columbia, otherwise unreported west of Minnesota and Ontario.

A few days ago, a friend (Park colleague) sent me a cell phone capture of a plant she couldn't identify, apologizing for the lack of clarity in the photo. That said, her image showed enough diagnostic features that I figured I could find it in my field guides. When I could not do so, I asked her for more details about where she had found it, and last Wednesday, the Park's plant ecologist and I stopped by to have a look. We discovered a dozen or so 12-16" stalks each bearing a single closed flower. Peeling one apart revealed what I thought I had seen in Kristyn's photo: a central disk with rays. I was baffled, and Arnie admitted that he had no idea what it was, either. I resolved to go back for more photos on a sunny day when I knew it would be open. Arnie took the next step and referred it out, with the result that it was identified as Tussilago farfara. Arnie told me, "I'll take a couple of herbarium specimens and then will eradicate it early next week."

With a short time-frame in which to get photographic documentation for the Invasive Plant Council, I made a trip to the site this morning. The flowers were just beginning to open with the first rays of sun, and the mosquitoes were out in numbers. By the time I'd gotten a handful of snapshots, I was gnawed from stem to stern. I went off on another natural-resources project for a few hours, and upon my return after noon, the flowers had opened up.

Tussilago farfara may occur in Mount Rainier National Park, but not for long!