Tanacetum Vs. Jacobaea

Day 352: When people hear the word "tansy," they may be referring to plants of either genus, Tanacetum or Jacobaea. Both are toxic to livestock and contain volatile oils which may cause contact dermatitis in sensitive individuals, and both are considered invasive. The plants are easy to tell apart, especially when in bloom. Tanacetum vulgare (Common Tansy, top) has no ray flowers; Jacobaea vulgaris (aka Senecio jacobaea, Tansy Ragwort, bottom) does. The leaves are also distinctly different, although those of Tansy Ragwort can be highly variable, especially when young. The foliage of Common Tansy is fern-like; that of Tansy Ragwort is similar to that of radishes left too long in the garden, and forms a rosette. In Washington, the introduction of Cinnabar Moth (Tyria jacobaea) as a biological control has been fairly successful in reducing the occurrence of Tansy Ragwort, the caterpillars' primary food source. Once they have decimated an infestation of Ragwort, the caterpillars cease reproducing and therefore cannot become a secondary concern.

Fall Webworm, Hyphantria Cunea

Day 351: Every autumn, I hear people talking about seeing the "tent caterpillars" whose webs adorn vast numbers of fruit and other deciduous trees. No, despite the fact that the webs are similar, these caterpillars are not the same pests we see in the spring. They are not Malacosoma fragilis (Western Tent Caterpillar, orange) or M. disstria (Forest Tent Caterpillar, blue). They are Hyphantria cunea, aka Fall Webworm, a distinctly different biological family (Erebidae vs. Lasiocampidae). Their webs are more openly structured than those of tent caterpillars, making it easier to see the critters crawling around inside. Despite the devastation these insects wreak, devouring leaves and leaving branches bare, arborists say that they are largely an aesthetic pest and do not damage trees significantly since the leaves this autumn nuisance consumes would fall naturally in just a few weeks. The moth of this species is bright white with a few black flecks on the wings.

Broom Berries, Yeah, Right...

Day 350: "Well, that's bloody weird," I said aloud when I spotted a tight cluster of orangey-red berries on a sprangly plant. "I've never seen huckleberries do that before!" And then I took a closer look at the plant. It wasn't a huckleberry bush. It was Scotch Broom (Cytisus scoparius) which, as a legume, makes pea pods filled with little black seeds, not bunches of brilliant berries. "What the heck? Waitaminit, that's on a different stem." I followed the vine downward (and it was clearly a vine once I really started analyzing), and eventually arrived at a few sickly leaves about a foot from the ground. "Oh, dumb me!" I said, laughing at myself. "It's a freaking honeysuckle!" Sure enough, once I pushed the tangle of blackberry thorns away from the base, I could see where the honeysuckle vine (Lonicera ciliosa) had come up right beside the main stem of the Scotch Broom, and had taken advantage of the natural trellis. Satisfied that I had laid a major botanical mystery to rest, I moved on. Sometimes Ma likes to play jokes, and she got me good with this one.

2130 View

Day 249: When you're a 14,410' Mountain and the surrounding foothills top out between 5000-7000', you certainly dominate the landscape from every vantage point offering a clear view. Of course much of the Pacific Northwest is forested (logging operations notwithstanding) and a little of it is dominated by man-made structures (Seattle), but for the most part, if a hiker achieves a high spot where trees don't block the vista, Mount Rainier owns the horizon.

I don't think this particular section had been clearcut the last time I walked Pack Forest's 2130 Loop, and the obvious maturity of the thistle patches and foxglove stands indicated to me that it must have been more years than I remembered. From main campus parking, the 2130 is roughly the farthest point in Pack attainable by walking the road system and/or trails. Other routes would add more miles, but if you're looking at the 2130 as a destination, you're in for pounding your soles. I had started my day with a shorter hike planned: up the 1000 to the 1400, 1400 to its end, then back to the Advanced Horse Trail and up to Hugo Peak and out via the Reservoir Trail, a 10-mile trip. After having lunch on Hugo, I decided to visit the 2130. I remembered it as being heavily forested, shady and richly green. I did not remember the view of the Mountain, and that's not something I'd be likely to forget. After all, the Mountain is a significant part of my life. Having done the 2130, I walked back to Kirkland Pass trying to judge how much more plodding my feet would stand. I had three choices to take me back to parking, two somewhat shorter options and the longer Reservoir Trail. I went the long way. Typical.

Picked For Proximity

Day 348: Yesterday, I was entertaining all sorts of ideas about where to go for an end-of-season hike, but when I woke up this morning, the inspiration had fled. It wasn't that I didn't feel up to the miles; no, it was that I didn't want to drive to get there. Consequently, Pack Forest won out on two counts: proximity, and offering multiple options in case I felt like going farther than planned. I decided to make the hike do double-duty, and packed my GPS and field notebook so I could record invasive plants.

When I reached the halfway point in my original plan, I wasn't nearly ready to go home. As I was coming off Hugo Peak, I ran into some Park friends who suggested going out the 2130 Loop, a route which I thought was closed to all traffic, vehicular or pedestrian. "No, it's fine. They don't mean hiking," I was told, so off I went, game to add another 4 miles onto the day. I have to admit I was a little foot-weary when I got back to the car after a total of 14 miles, about half of which was spent on hard-packed road gravel and half on "softer" trail. Unfortunately, I didn't find any chanterelles for dinner, but I will be writing my invasives report from now until bedtime. Common tansy, tansy ragwort and foxglove abound.

Cat Hair And All

Day 347: I picked up my Home Arts submissions from the Washington State Fair today and finally got to read the judging cards. The judging criteria include craftsmanship, degree of difficulty, design (proportion, line, colour, individuality) and presentation, the judges may elect to suggest areas which need improvement in stitch evenness, tension, blocking, cleanliness, seaming, ends and outer edges (selvedges). Both of my woven pieces drew comments of high praise for the selvedges, an area which is a major issue with many weavers. I received high marks for craftsmanship in my weaving, but since both pieces were relatively straightforward designs, the degree of difficulty score was not as high as it could have been. I am quite pleased with the way the judges scored the weavings.

Although the bobbin lace piece took first prize with a nearly perfect score in craftsmanship (missed by one point out of 40), it was down-pointed for cleanliness, which puzzled me until I read the judge's comments. It seems some "fibers" were caught in my work, something other than the threads used in making the lace. It took me a second to realize that the judge was referring to the unavoidable. Yep, it was cat hair. I'm thoroughly amused.

The Great Kiwi Harvest And Other News

Day 346: Well, there you have it: the Great Hardy Kiwi Harvest of 2018. Squirrels or raccoons ate all the rest while they were still quite small, but at least I got a sample. Older and wiser, I will booby-trap the vines next year. But with nights turning colder, the bounty from the remainder of the garden must now be put by for winter, and to that end, I've been experimenting with dehydrating various fruits and veg. Sungold cherry tomatoes dried very well at a temperature of 115 degrees, and I have a second batch going even as we speak. They will be wonderful in soups and on pizza. Yesterday's projects included making raisins from my Interlaken grapes, but the recipe's suggested time of 15-36 hours crisped them around the edges and they're not as tender as I'd like. (A friend suggested soaking them in rum to soften them up...I like the way she thinks!) Reducing the time to 10-12 hours will give a better product, and there are plenty more grapes to come. I also made salted chips from a crookneck squash. The dehydrating process concentrated the squash flavour in flexible strips with a texture reminiscent of dried apple slices. Today, I'm inventing, adding my own touch to the recipe using pieces of patty-pan squash dipped in thinned Thai red curry paste. No question, they will be delicious! I also picked enough mint for a batch of mint jelly, and the infusion is cooling even as I write, and I'll finish the jelly later today.

No Redeeming Merit

Day 345: It's official: Akebi fruit has absolutely no redeeming merit unless you simply enjoy the challenge of cross-pollinating. The male flowers on the purple vine failed to produce pollen, but seven pods formed on it and developed to maturity. I harvested one early, before the seeds had a chance to harden, but the pith (purportedly edible) was quite bitter at that point. I tried a second pod a few days ago. The pith was mildly sweet, but otherwise relatively tasteless and riddled with hard black seeds so numerous that sucking the pith from them was far more work that it was worth. Still trying to find a use for the fruit, I sliced the pod and stir-fried it as suggested in some recipes I'd seen on line, but even cooked, the flesh was unappetizing. Perhaps a taste for Akebi is based in genetics, i.e., its flavour appeals to those individuals who carry a certain gene. Will I break out my little paintbrush again next year? Probably, if for no other reason than to say, "Look! I cross-pollinated these myself!"

National Public Lands Day

Day 344: It was far from being the wettest National Public Lands Day in my experience as a crew leader, but it was certainly a bit on the soggy side. Most of my debris team was under age 10, drawn from two Cub Scout troops. The youngest member was four, and a very diligent worker. He was even disappointed when we announced quitting time! Roughly 50 volunteers joined Park personnel in a variety of projects including revegetation, trail work and campground maintenance. Given the weather, this was a great turnout. That said, the weather prevented us from taking down the platform tents as originally planned, so that project has been shifted to the next run of drier days.

A Grape Achievement!

Day 343: A grape achievement! After many years of experimenting with different pruning styles and methods and no grapes to show for it, I finally just threw my hands in the air and walked away with a glare over my shoulder and a cranky comment directed at the vine, "Okay, maybe if I just let you grow wild, you'll give me some grapes." Being ignored was just what the plant needed. It is absolutely loaded with grapes this year, and some of the bunches are ready to pick and eat. The variety is Interlaken, small but seedless, with a flavour reminiscent of Concords. I've never tried making jelly with green grapes, but if any variety would be a good candidate for an experiment, Interlaken would be my choice. So far, I've kept the jays and Bambi and his three friends at bay with netting, although I spent a large part of yesterday evening chasing deer around the yard. For now, though, I'm just going to nibble them. Oh, they are sweet and good!

Fair Duty Done

Day 342: The Washington State Fair doesn't close until Sept. 23, but my tour of duty in the Park's booth concluded today. I made one last sweep of the fairgrounds, spending most of my time with the sheep and goats. To me, livestock, produce and home arts are what a fair is about, whether it's state or county. I am not interested in the plastic gewgaws hawked from dozens of identical booths, nor do I give even a passing glance to hot tubs, vacuum cleaners, mattresses or wood stoves being sold at "fair" (read, "jacked up") prices. In fact, the Fair has become so commercial that the visitor has to wind through a maze of vendors to find the few true exhibitions. Even a few of those ask an additional entrance fee. That said, the best things in life are still free, at least after you've paid your basic admission. You can see piglets less than 24 hours old, cows, sheep, goats, chickens, horses, dogs, flowers, bonsai, vegetables, photography, quilts, needlearts, craft displays, collectibles...oh yes, there's plenty to do if you can find your way between the food stalls and brightly coloured sucker-bait. My eyes are good at ignoring vendors, but my feet get weary following the circuitous paths which lead from one point of interest to the next. After a few hours of junk-avoidance, I feel like Ms. Angora here, just plain tuckered and ready for a nap. G'night, Fair. See you next year!

One Last Adventure

Day 341: I don't remember having ever been as deeply affected by a Park Service colleague's announcement as I was when I heard that Arnie is retiring in November, "retiring" as in "leaving Park Service entirely and for good." His wife will also be retiring, and the two of them will most likely move out of state. Arnie has been so supportive of me and of Team Biota, encouraging us, instructing us, guiding us and most importantly, valuing the work we've been doing in the field, hunting down rare plants and fungi. Besides being a good supervisor, Arnie has been a friend, and because of that, he suggested that we try to get in one last hike together while the season will still allow. There was a hint of "Would you take me mushrooming?" in his voice, so we compared schedules and made the arrangements (in my case, asking for half a day off from my regular duties), and today went looking for chanterelles in a spot which has never yet let me down. Today was no exception. We each gathered enough for two nice meals, and because he's never eaten them before, I shared my recipe: fry in butter with a little garlic, add salt and pepper and gobble 'em up! A very special retirement gift is in the works.

Warp Speed, Aye!

Day 340: "Warp speed, aye, Captain!" I measured the warp for this project on September 13, a mere five days ago. On the 14th, I spent all day putting it on the loom, i.e., mounting it on the back beam, threading 502 heddles, threading the reed, winding it onto the beam. I made a few passes with the shuttle that evening just to be sure I'd threaded the double-width draft correctly and satisfied that I had, I went to bed with the backache from hell. On the 15th, I wove for a few hours after a work party, and then again for a few hours during the morning of the 16th. Yesterday, I got serious, and by the time the day was done, I had put an additional three feet on the project, leaving only two to go this morning.

The weaving is done, but the blanket is not yet complete. The ends need to be hemstitched before the fringes can be twisted and knotted. I've just recently started using twisted fringe to finish projects and feel that they give a more elegant touch to my handwovens. This style fringe is time-consuming, though, especially when you're talking about 502 threads on each end which will be twisted as two pairs of three or four threads each. It will probably take me longer to finish the fringe than it did to weave the coverlet.

Weaver At Work

Day 339: Weaving with standard knitting worsted may present an issue I call "grabbiness" when the warp is set close together, even moreso when two strands are brought through each dent of the reed in order to weave a double width of cloth as I am doing here. Yarns specifically designed for weaving are generally spun harder than those available in craft stores and therefore have fewer hairs to tangle with adjacent threads. Garden-variety worsted tends to be rather fuzzy, and the hairs like to "hold hands," making it a little harder to open the sheds for the shuttle even when weaving a single layer of fabric. In weaving double-wide cloth, two of the sheds are fairly easy to open because only one harness is raised; the other two sheds require three harnesses to be raised simultaneously, and "grabby" yarns catch on each other, raising those threads which were supposed to stay down. When weaving the two problematic sheds, I first raise the single harness and manipulate the warp with my fingers to separate the strands, and then verify that the shed is clear by passing a yardstick through it. If any strands need to be worked free, I do so before depressing the second treadle which raises two additional harnesses. The process is as follows: treadle 1 (upper layer), pass the shuttle, beat in place; treadle 2 (upper layer), pass the shuttle, beat in place; treadle 3 (lower layer), "play the harp" to free up binding threads, verify with the yardstick, treadle 5 (raising harnesses 1 and 2), pass the shuttle, beat in place; treadle 4 (lower layer), "play the harp," verify, treadle 5 (again raising harnesses 1 and 2), pass the shuttle, beat in place. Although it takes longer, verifying the difficult sheds each time prevents having accidental floats which would have to be repaired later. Although my loom is only 48" wide, this worsted-weight throw will measure 58" x  80" when finished (not counting fringe).

Drop Of Golden Sun

Day 338: They say hindsight is clearer than foresight. In other words, "Why didn't I think of this last year?" As I was eating dinner a few nights ago (Hamburger Helper Beef Pasta), it seemed rather more bland than usual and I thought, "Needs some tomato sauce or something to tangy it up. Wish I had some sun-dried tomatoes." Still not up to speed and too lazy to get up for the Worcestershire sauce, I gulped down the food with my usual "I don't care what I eat as long as I get it over with quick" attitude and then went back to my projects. Then, while working at the Park's booth at the Washington State Fair, a visitor engaged me in a lengthy conversation which somehow circulated around to preserving Nature's bounty for winter consumption. She mentioned dehydrating, and a cartoon lightbulb, fully illuminated, appeared over my head. "Oh, brilliant!" I shouted, startling her. "Now I know what to do with my surfeit of tomatoes!" Since I'd just given Kevin a bagful, I had to wait a couple of days before more Sungolds were ready to pick. I sliced them at roughly 1/4" thick, put them in the dehydrator overnight at 115 degrees (the temp suggested by the visitor). They weren't quite dry by morning, but another two hours did the trick. Now if I can just stop eating them like potato chips, I might have a few to perk up those bland winter meals.

Birthday Girl

Day 337 (Part B): Bonus post today because she deserves it. Skunk is celebrating her 16th birthday today. The bottom photo was taken the night I brought her home, still blue-eyed and bare-tailed, and her right wrist showing a healing wound inflicted by two kitten-killing dachshunds who tried their damndest to make a meal of her. Even then, she was a scrappy, feisty little thing, and seven years elapsed before she'd sit on my lap. Now, she demands her lap-time, shoving aside whatever project I may have in my hands and taking forever to settle her poor arthritic bones into a reasonably comfortable position. Her health is not good, but we go on, taking each day as it comes, because that's the way it works when you promise someone a "forever home." Happy Birthday, Skunk!

Rain-Washed Raspberries

Day 337: The raspberries were very slow coming on this year, but they're making up for lost time. I haven't quite been able to keep pace with daily production, so I've started putting a few in the freezer with just a dash of sugar sprinkled over them. It's the way my mom put berries by, and whenever I was home from school, sick with a strep throat (something which seemed to happen every month over fall and winter), she'd break out a container of raspberries or strawberries for me to nibble while they were still frozen. For a few years, we lived in a spot with a pie cherry tree in the orchard, and although the fruit nearly always went in pies, I remember a few times when I was sick and allowed to eat the frozen sweet-tart cherries in lieu of berries. Those were good, too! That said, raspberry picking was one of my after-school chores and I hated it. I shared my mother's fear of spiders, and every arching branch seemed to be guarded by an enormous arachnid. Today, I know that these were Araneus diadematus, the Cross Orbweaver, but my mother called them "those damn triangular garden spiders" and the term is still one I use all too frequently when picking raspberries.

Nightshade

Day 336: Bittersweet Nightshade (Solanum dulcamara) is common in western Washington wetlands, and although it is poisonous and in the same family, it is not the "belladonna" of notoriety (Atropa belladonna). Many plants in the family of Solanaceae are at least partially edible, e.g., tomatoes, potatoes, garden peppers (hot and sweet) and eggplant; the toxins are largely confined to the foliage. However, sensitive individuals may still react to the edible portions. Bittersweet Nightshade bears a red berry which resembles a tiny "grape" tomato. Birds can process the alkaloids contained in the fruit without ill effect as can some species of small mammals, but humans may experience digestive distress, permanent liver damage or cardiorespiratory distress from consuming the leaves or berries. Keep kids and pets away from this plant!

Weaving Double

Day 335: Just prior to the footstool cover project, I set up an experiment on the loom which failed miserably: weaving a double width of cloth. The technique allows you to make a wider piece (a tablecloth, for example) without having to seam the center. The same principle can be used to make seamless bags or to make a double-thick fabric with bound layers, but my intention was to weave a continuous cloth with selvedges. The experiment failed for a couple of reasons which I'll go into later in this post.

A major difference between a table loom and a floor loom is the method by which the harnesses are raised. A floor loom has treadles which operate jacks as the weaver depresses them with the feet. On a table loom, the jacks are operated manually (literally by hand) and remain in place once pulled down. Since human beings are only equipped with two feet, it's awkward and difficult to depress more than two treadles on a floor loom, but on a table loom, it's quite easy to pull down three levers. We get around this problem with a floor loom by means of the "tie-up," i.e., by attaching one treadle to more than one jack. For this reason, floor looms are usually equipped with six treadles. The most common tie-up is to have treadles 5 and 6 set up to create the sheds used in plain (tabby) weave, i.e., treadle 5 operates harnesses 1 and 3 simultaneously, and treadle 6 operates harnesses 2 and 4. The remaining treadles operate harnesses 1, 2, 3 and 4 individually (aka a "direct tie-up"). These can also be used to weave tabby by raising harnesses 1 and 3 alternately with 2 and 4, using two feet instead of one. The choice is a matter of preference and convenience.

That said, sometimes you need to alter the tie-up. In the case of double-width weaving, you need to lift harnesses 1 and 2 out of the way as you weave the lower layer of fabric on 3 and 4. Otherwise, the layers of cloth will be bound together in a double thickness. To this end, I needed to change the tie-up of treadle 5 to lift harnesses 1 and 2. Crawling around under a loom trying to see what you're doing through trifocals in a poorly-lit room is a recipe for error, and that's where I made the first one. My second mistake came when I automatically started weaving with a throw from left to right. It should have been right to left in order to have the selvedges on the left of the work. I might have spotted the tie-up error if I had made my first throw from the right side, but that's hindsight. The experimental weave was bound together as surely as night follows day.

Having used the technique successfully on my table loom, I wasn't about to give up. I dragged out the "other" book (Mary Black's "Key to Weaving") and studied up. Rather than simply showing drafts like "Handweaver's Pattern Book," Ms. Black explains the mechanics, and through her description, I was able to see where I might have gone wrong. She gives a slightly different draft than HPB and in order to follow her instructions, I needed to change the tie-up again. As I was crawling around in the wool fuzzies under the loom to change the ties, I discovered that I'd tied treadle 5 to jacks 1 and 3 instead of 1 and 2. Once that was remedied, I used a handful of old warp ends to sley a few inches for a second experiment, which I am happy to say worked out exactly as planned. Now for the big project!

Repeat At Random

Day 334: Another short weaving project done! The cover on my footstool was looking rather threadbare, so I dug into the scrap knitting worsted I usually reserve for stripes in hats and socks to see if I had enough to make a replacement. As I sorted through the colours, I began to see an autumn theme building, but many of the balls were quite small and I knew I wouldn't have enough for a true "check" pattern. About half the yarn was variegated (harder to incorporate into a scrap project). Then it hit me: a random check! The warp changes colour every ten threads, the weft every eight. I wove two lengths, so now I have a replacement on hand when this one wears out. The 3 x 5 card includes a sample for my weaving file.

Sundew Rosette

Day 333: The primary motivation behind any kayaking trip on Lake St. Clair is paying a visit to my "kids," the burgeoning Sundews which have colonized two breakwater logs on either side of Jack's dock. Jack, the homeowner whose last name is unknown to me, sometimes comes down to the shore for a chat, and always assures me that he's taking good care of them (even if he does refer to them as "those Venus Fly-trap things"). Part of his maintenance is to keep the logs free of other growth which might snuff them out. To this end, he goes out on the logs on foot, cutting small alders and rooting out Pseudacorus as well as other weedy species, but unfortunately, this means that there is always a certain amount of attrition in the Sundew population as a trade-off for his diligence. If the Sundews were any less numerous, this would give me cause for concern, but they are doing well, and each year, I see new colonies springing up as they gradually claim more of the logs as their own. They obviously like the habitat, as evidenced by this year's crop of seed capsules.

Wool Anatomy

Day 332: As we were assembling to go on for our first dance set at St. Luke's English Fete, I noticed a woman demonstrating spinning, and laid out on a cloth at her feet were what appeared to be several fleeces. As soon as we were done dancing, I hurried over to find out if she was selling the wool. Then I noticed something I hadn't observed before: her right arm was missing from just above the elbow. I started chatting with her, watching her spin with one hand, and as the conversation progressed beyond fleece availability, she invited me to sit down beside her and as I did so, I noticed a pair of carders on the ground beside a basket of fluffy, carded wool. How did she manage? Carding for me has always been the hardest part of spinning because I've had a major shoulder repair and have very little strength in my right arm. I picked up a batt of wool, and even before I could ask the obvious question, she grabbed the carders and set one on her right knee, holding it in place with her amputee's stump, and took the other in her left hand, rested her forearm on her left knee and began pulling a new lock of fleece through the carding hooks. At that point, I explained about my injury and she happily coached me through the steps of her method. We swapped phone numbers and she offered to fill a bag with raw wool for me to take home. Using her carding method, I've filled a whole basket in just two sessions! Old dogs can be taught new tricks, no matter what people may think.

Working with raw wool is both a delight and a pain in the neck (or arm, if you don't use the right technique). Even skirted fleeces have some unsavoury bits, so it's best if you do your carding outdoors or with something on the ground at your feet which can be shaken out. Constant exposure to sun splits the ends of sheep hair just as it does human hair, so the tips of the locks are usually matted together. By working them gently with the carders, the tangles can be opened out. Spinners speak of certain attributes of various wool types, and these include crimp (the waviness or curliness of locks of fleece), staple (the length of the fiber) and micron size. Romney wool has a micron size of 31-38, and is one of the finest (size-wise) from the long-staple breeds.

Paddle Cache

Day 331: I'm of two minds about the two dozen or more "paddle caches" on Lake St. Clair. Although I enjoy getting five stars from the terrain rating (it takes "special equipment," i.e., a water craft), it annoys me that almost every one of the caches was placed by the same cacher under any of several different accounts. Basically, she "owns" the lake, leaving no room for anyone else to place a hide there. Worse, because she uses a couple of different names for herself as well as acting as proxy for a small handful of other cachers, she also gets to claim each cache as a find for one or more of her alternate personas. She's quick to fill in any vacancies. The cache in the photo above was one of the earliest placed on the lake. When it went missing and its owner archived it, the glutton seized the moment and claimed the spot for her own. That said, I've retired from placing caches and only go out to find those which are either rated high for terrain or have some other particular appeal, so I'm reaping the rewards of her hoggishness at the same time I'm disparaging it.

Evil Weeds - Jewelweed

Day 330: Native in some parts of the United States, Jewelweed (Impatiens capensis) is considered invasive in the Pacific Northwest, and rightfully so. Just in the years I've been working with the Invasive Plant Council, I have seen it take over acres of wetland within two or three years from the time of the first observation. It is often found along lakeshores and river banks, factors which contribute to the dissemination of the seed. Where it is accessible, it is easy to remove by pulling, but locations where it occurs should be monitored closely for several years in order to eliminate any latent sprouts.

With A Teaspoon

Day 329: My day had only just begun when I took this photo, and by the time it ended, I had packed the bow of the kayak so full of Lake St. Clair's Jewelweed that I barely had room for my feet and gear. Given that in one small corner of the lake the infestation covers more than an acre of shoreline, I feel like I'm dipping the ocean dry with a teaspoon. That said, I'm winning in a couple of spots, doing a "maintenance run" on them whenever I go out, pulling any stragglers or new growth. I've singlehandedly rescued one log from the evil weed, and have a fifty-foot stretch of shoreline almost free of the nasty stuff. Do I have enough years left to me to clean the lake? I sincerely doubt it, not even if I worked 365 days a year. Call it a "permanent job," if you will.

What to do today was a toss between kayaking and chanterelling, having had a report of "mountain gold" from Arnie. Wildfire smoke kept me housebound for most of August, and there was still too much in the air today for me to think about hiking up one lesser-known and very steep trail after mushrooms, so I loaded the 'yak on the car and took off for Lake St. Clair, honestly only intending to paddle a bit, visit the Sundews and come home. Consequently, I forgot to put a weed bag in the 'yak, an omission which left me prime prey for ants and spiders by the hundred. They like Jewelweed. And I won't say the evil weed is without purpose. An inadvertent encounter with a patch of nettles provided an opportunity for scientific study. Jewelweed is purported to be good against poison oak/ivy, and a previous nettling during a weed patrol had made me wonder if I hadn't reacted as strongly because I was already covered with the sap. When I got my arm in the nettle patch today, I immediately rubbed the spot with a crushed Jewelweed leaf. Voila! Instant relief! Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to work against ant and spider bites.

Results Are In

Day 328: Today was my first day of duty at the Washington State Fair (Puyallup Fair) for 2018, and I was finally able to find out if I'd taken any prizes for the two pieces of weaving and a bobbin-lace edged handkerchief I'd entered. I've never participated in Home Arts before, although I did take "Honorable Mention" in an annual national-level hardanger contest three times. Last year, I noticed that the Fair was chronically short of bobbin lace, so after talking to one of the docents, I resolved to put in an entry. The process was a little confusing, having to select a "division" and a "class" without a clear idea of what those terms meant, but I got it figured out. I delivered the works to the Fair office last month and settled in to wait, not really expecting to receive any awards. The Fair does not post results on line, so today was the first chance I'd had to find out. I located the green overshot weaving first and squealed like a piglet when I saw a "Second Prize" ribbon hanging from it, but I was having trouble finding the other two pieces. A docent came to my rescue, and to my great delight, I found another "Second Prize" ribbon on the second weaving and a "First Prize" on the bobbin lace. I will definitely be entering again next year!

Tribble-On-A-Stick

Day 327: Any Star Trek fan would be happy to identify this wildflower for you. It's "Tribble-on-a-Stick" and the subalpine meadows at this time of year are a testament to their reproductive abilities. Seriously, though...Anemone occidentalis does carry the quirky common name of "Mouse-on-a-Stick" in addition to "Western Anemone" or "Western Pasqueflower." The flower is one of the first to appear in the spring, often blooming in between snow patches. Phenologically speaking, Western Anemone has one of the longest cycles between budding and "blowing" of any of the subalpine plants and may be observed in the meadows throughout the whole season in one form or another. The "mop-heads" familiar to most hikers (as shown above) are the seed-bearing phase. When the seeds are fully mature, the plant will release them to be sown by the wind, ensuring a whole new generation of Tribbles to plague Captain Kirk.

Rigid Heddle Weaving - Log Cabin

Day 326: Weaving on a rigid heddle loom is a new experience for me, and although the basic principle (creating sheds, passing a shuttle) is the same as weaving on a standard loom, the operation is different. Rather than using treadles or jacks to change sheds, the weave raises or pushes down on heddles set in a frame. Notches in the sides of the loom allow the frame to be locked in place, freeing up the hands for shuttle operations. The warp is wound onto a roller in the same manner as it is on a regular loom, and the finished cloth is advanced in the same way. Since there are only two possible sheds (the positions of the threads) with rigid-heddle weaving, more elaborate patterns require the use of pick-up sticks or a second heddle kit if one can be used with that particular loom (mine allows it). That said, some interesting patterns can be woven simply by changing colours in the warp or weft. Here, I am weaving a log-cabin pattern using a repeat of B-W-B-W-B-W-B-W, W-B-W-B-W-B-W-B. Note that at the ends of each half-sequence, the order reverses and the last thread of the first half is the same colour as the first thread of the second half. Using the same two-part sequence in both warp and weft results in a change of the dominant colour in each block.

Tarn At Faraway Rock

Day 325: Hikers climb roughly 400' in three-quarters of a mile to reach Faraway Rock and a splendid view of Louise Lake from above, but for me, the Lakes Trail is more memorable for its numerous "pothole" tarns. Each has its individual appeal. The first is surrounded by blue huckleberry bushes, and later in September, the red leaves and backdrop of golden grass make it a veritable jewel of the backcountry. A dip in the trail just beyond this point gives a unique perspective of the tarn, the basin and water surface approximately at eye level to the viewer travelling downhill. Further up, other tarns serve as elk wallows and polliwog pools, the shorelines alive in season with thousands of newly emerged froglets. Many (most) of the tarns along this trail are muddy-bottomed, as anyone who steps into one with the intention of wading soon discovers as they sink up to the knees or deeper in soft goo, so although they seem clear and inviting, you're better off sticking to the trail even when your clothes are sticking to you!

Elmera Racemosa

Day 324: Elmera racemosa is one of the plants I generally refer to by its scientific name. "Elmera" rolls off the tongue more easily than "Yellow Coralbells" and gives the plant the degree of distinction it is due. Elmera occurs only in the Pacific Northwest (British Columbia, Washington and Oregon), and only in the alpine/subalpine zones. It is sufficiently distinct from other Coralbells (Heuchera) that it merits a genus all its own (Elmera). In Mount Rainier National Park, it is not considered uncommon, but never occurs in abundance at any location or below 5000'.

September's Flower

Day 323: A glad, good September Morn to you, my readers! As many of you know, this is a special day for me, second only to Christmas and that, only because Christmas is the holiday recognized by the majority of my friends. September Morn heralds the season of colour, of cool nights and blithe days, of harvest; it opens "the beautiful month," my favourite time to be in the high country, and no plant is more symbolic of September than the Bog Gentian. These flowers are the last to bloom in the subalpine meadows, and they are so intensely blue that they seem to be drawing the sky into themselves, husbanding the summer's cloudless days, taking the azure vault of the heavens into their roots, there to hold it in care through the long winter. Sometimes a white form can be found, an errant cloud browsing through a sunny day like a wayward sheep. Ah, September! If we must give farewell to summer, you have consoled us with the glorious Bog Gentian.