Quiet Time

Day 18: After a week of ideal hiking weather when I was out almost every day, now the autumn rains have started (a little too earnestly, thank you) and I've returned to my quiet-time projects. Having spun up the remainder of the raw wool, I washed one skein this morning and hung it to dry indoors, but the urge to spin was strong. I had three choices at hand: more grey Gotland (a recent purchase), a beautiful white Corriedale cross roving, or the dyed wool I'd bought at the Puyallup Fair: a blue/purple/black blend and an aqua/blue/purple, four ounces of each. I opted for the colours. I will spin all of each blend separately and then ply them together to maximize the randomness of the colours. The fiber is in "pencil roving," already carded and ready to go.

Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!

Day 17: Having Chickadees (plural) in my yard is so noteworthy that I would like to reiterate: I have at least two, and although I don't see them every day, they show signs of liking it here. I am reasonably certain they are paired; they were investigating knotholes in the fence together, presumably getting an early look at the housing market. Oh, to have baby 'dee-dees next spring! That said, it remains to be seen how their presence will affect the Pine Siskins. The two species generally avoid each other. Last year, I had both visiting the feeders, Siskins alternating with Chickadees on a fairly regular basis. While I was clearing out garden debris this morning, 'Dee-dee flitted back and forth between Harry Lauder and the hopper filled with sunflower seeds, "dee-dee-dee-ing" at me in a friendly conversation and making me smile.

Bread Day

Day 16: My grandmother was the needleworker in my family, but my mother occasionally did embroidery or knitting, and during the Fabulous Fifties, "days of the week" kitchen towels were very popular. She stitched a set with vegetable characters involved in various household chores: dusting, laundry, and even making bread. Although the towels were labelled "Monday," "Tuesday," etc., and one scene in which the vegetables were engaged in making bread. I always thought of it as "Bread Day." When I set up housekeeping on my own at age 18, my mother outfitted me with some essentials like sauce pans, cooking utensils, flatware and dishes, and the "Bread Day" towel was among the hand-me-downs. I used it as a dish towel for several years, but when I started baking my own bread, it seemed the logical candidate to toss over the rising loaves. Put to such a use, it became known as my "bread rag," and not being subjected to the harsher wear of drying dishes, it survived (albeit somewhat holey) until just a few years ago when I finally tossed it out. Today, I still use cotton dish towels to protect my loaves from drafts, and when I give bread as a gift, I wrap it with one. Memory being what it is, I do not recall which day of the week had been appointed "Bread Day," but it's a moot point. "Bread Day" happens roughly every 10 days around here.

Lecanora Muralis

Day 15: This specimen would have left me puzzled, but its identity (Lecanora muralis) was provided by Katherine Glew during a "lichen walk" in one of Seattle's cemeteries yesterday. According to some sources (particularly those in the UK), it is most often found in urban environments where deposits of grit and ash on various substrates provide it with an easy means to take hold. It is unusual among Lecanoras in that it is lobate, i.e., the outer edges of the rosette are scalloped by small, loosely attached lobes much like those of the Parmelias. However, the apothecia (disk-like fruiting bodies) give it away as a Lecanora. This specimen was roughly 1.25" across and at least for me, it was one of the most interesting finds of the day.

Lichenologists In The Mist

Day 14: Roughly 14 lichenologists with varying degrees of expertise from beginner to professor gathered this morning on Seattle's Queen Anne Hill for a field trip among the fog-wrapped gravestones of Mt. Pleasant Cemetery. Mt. Pleasant is one of the oldest cemeteries in Seattle (and for my east-coast friends, that means some of the people buried here were born in the early to mid-1800s), and unfortunately most of the headstones have been kept remarkably lichen-free. Even so, we found several dozen different species (small colonies for the most part) of Parmelia, Hypogymnia, Chrysothrix and others. My favourite was a relatively uncommon lobed Lecanora which I'll feature in an upcoming post. This ancient horse chestnut tree was a veritable gold-mine despite its rather barren appearance on first glance. Used to the lush and verdant lichens which festoon the trees in Mount Rainier's lower forests, I was amazed to discover a whole new world of micro-lichens beneath my hand lens. Even though I didn't learn anything new with respect to identifying individual species, my eyes were opened to the wealth of nearly invisible lichens populating the urban environment.

Before And After

Day 13: Between one of the Morris dancers and a Parkie friend, I came by a windfall of apples and pears this week, and settled in this morning to the job of paring, coring and canning. I seldom eat the tasteless, over-processed canned fruit sold in stores, but I find it hard to keep home-canned things on my shelf. Since both the pears and apples were tart varieties, I used a medium syrup, preserving the colour with a product called "Fruit Fresh." It's essentially a mix of ascorbic and citric acids, and when added to the syrup, it prevents the fruit from browning, not that any of this will last that long. I'm already into the plums I put up two months ago. Today, I canned two pints of pears and seven of apple chunks from at least five different types of apple. These are going to taste really good when the January snow flies.

Ramaria Araiospora

Day 12: Certainly the most colourful of the coral fungi, Ramaria araiospora fades from red to pink with age. However, if you're lucky enough to find one when it first emerges, you'll squeal your Vibram brakes and come to a full stop in the forest. It occurs in very few places outside the Pacific Northwest, but in startlingly different ecologies such as those in Kansas and Mexico. Like the related R. acrisiccescens (see my post from October 22), the holotype specimen was collected within a few miles of my home. As the fungus matures, the tips will branch up to six times and may achieve the size of a large grapefruit. It also has the misfortune of being considered edible, and for that reason, I will not divulge its location to protect it from collectors whose only thoughts are for the cooking kettle, irrespective of its beauty and rarity.

Making A Braided Rug

Day 11: I have my friend Patty to thank for inspiring me to get started on this project. I've been thinking about recycling some of my old t-shirts into rugs for the longest time (read, "years") and just never seemed to get around to cutting the fabric into strips. In fact, there were several occasions when I sent a bagful of t-shirts off to the thrift store because I was tired of falling over them. When Patty found her mother's hand-made, foot-operated braiding clamp and sent me a photo, it was just the nudge I needed.

Rug braiding was popular during the Depression, and worn-out clothing (particularly wool suits) were recycled in this fashion as a matter of economy. Today, braiding is considered a craft, something done for leisure. Fabrics can be obtained from cast-offs or may be purchased new, specifically for the purpose. Of course, the latter option permits the rug-maker a greater opportunity to select colours and work in themes. T-shirt fabric curls in on itself naturally, so the braiders aren't really necessary when using it. I've installed one here just to demonstrate the principle. It also makes a narrower braid than wool gabardine and therefore requires more sewing, but other suitable fabric choices include terrycloth towels, flannel and fleece. Kitchen rag-rugs can even be made from calico prints, although if braided rather than woven, the time involved in creating a mat is substantially longer. As the fabric passes through the metal braider, the raw edges are folded toward the center where they will be less likely to unravel. The braid is kept tight, and my preference is to braid in short sections, splicing on new lengths of fabric when I reach the end of each strand. When a sufficient length of braid has been completed, sewing can commence. The braid is folded or curved around on itself, keeping it flat on the table, and then it is stitched with rug warp, buttonhole twist or cotton twine picking up one loop at a time, alternating between the inside edges of the folded braid. At the top of the curve, adjustments will need to be made for the greater distance, i.e., picking up two loops to one. There are specialized tools which make braiding a little easier, but if you're on a tight budget as so many people were during the Depression, all you need is some old fabric, a yarn needle and some twine to start making your own rugs.

Foghorn Hike

Day 10: In the immortal words of Monty Python, "And now for something completely different." Pursuit of a few earthcaches (containerless geocaches with a geologic theme) took me to Seattle's Discovery Park rather late in the day and under gathering fog. I parked where the cache owner had suggested, and my GPSr indicated that the straight-line, as-the-crow-flies estimate to the location was 0.79 miles. I made mental allowance for a winding trail and figured it was a mile one way. I had an hour before dark. Yeah, piece of cake. The trail went along flat for a bothersome distance and then began descending over a series of wooden stairs. Stairs are never welcome in my book; the interval is always too long, too short, too high or too shallow to match my normal stride. These were shallow and frequent, i.e., more footfalls required to cover less distance, due to be even more annoying on the ascent. Watching the arrow on the GPS, I noticed that I'd gone past the cache, "past" referring to a two-dimensional concept in a three-dimensional world. It was still at least a hundred feet below me. This is par for the course, nothing abnormal here. But then I came to a paved road and a two-car parking spot. What? You mean I could have driven here, as pressed for time as I am? On a busy day, those spots would be the first to fill, but in these conditions, they were both vacant. When I finally reached the beach, I became aware of two things: one, the cache was now 0.3 mi. away and two, the tide was in (but going out). The fog was getting thicker, and as much as I'd have liked to sit and listen to the foghorns sounding in the distance, the dimming of the light was becoming more apparent. Too late to turn back, I went on to the earthcache, recorded the data I needed to log it, and then began a wind-sprint back up the stairs. It wasn't quite "pitch-black night" when I got back to the car, but close enough that I was having trouble seeing where I was going if I passed through a grove of trees. I'd had quite all the exercise I needed for one day, thank you, and the next stop on my evening schedule was Morris dance practice.

Ramaria Acrisiccescens, "Blah Coral"

Day 9: "Blah Coral." Yes, that is the common name of this fungus, a coral often found in Pacific Northwest evergreen forests. It's easy to see why it got the name "Blah." The colour is unremarkable: a uniform light tan which ages to brown. Interestingly enough, the holotype of this species (Ramaria acrisiccescens) was collected in 1966 just a few miles south of my home, followed a year later by holotype collection of another Ramaria (R. araiospora) in the same locale. Older specimens may exhibit abundant dichotomous branching, i.e., each leg splitting into two parts, then into two again, up to nine times. Its Latin nomenclature reflects its unsuitability for the table: "acri-" defining its sharp (acrid) taste and "-siccescens" (pronounced "sick-essence") speaks to the dryness of the flesh. While some corals are edible, this one is just...blah.

Identifying Arctium Lappa

Day 8: There are two species of Burdock in Washington state, Arctium lappa (Large Burdock) and Arctium minus (Small Burdock). These plants originated in Europe and Asia where they were cultivated for their edible roots. Both species have become problematic outside their native regions and are considered invasive here. They like nitrogen-rich soils, so I was rather surprised to find two specimens in the forested area where I was hiking yesterday. Since the heads needed to be disposed of in a manner which would prevent the seeds from developing (something which may occur even after a plant has been uprooted), I bagged them and brought them home. This also allowed me to examine the plant so I could determine which species I'd found. Arctium lappa's petioles (the "stem" connecting the leaf to the main stalk) have distinct ridges as shown in the inset; those of A. minus do not. As I've seen on the Nisqually Land Trust's Ohop Valley property, Large Burdock can turn into a ten-foot tall bush. Fortunately, the two specimens I removed were only 12-18" in height, but both had numerous burrs. The trail on which they were found is open to horses, so I am inclined to think that the species was inadvertently introduced to the area by burrs or seeds carried in a hoof or saddle blanket. Many invasives are spread by accident; hikers should always "de-seed" their clothing and boots before entering a new area.

At Buck's Crossing

Day 7: I'm glad I didn't file a flight plan because once again, where I intended to go and where I wound up were about two trail miles apart. In the process of getting to and from Sahara Creek Camp (the eventual turn-around point of today's adventure), what was intended to be a casual hike mutated into an invasive-plant patrol. Instead of doing three miles, I did seven, and found two specimens of Great Burdock (Arctium lappa), something I have not seen previously at this elevation or on forested land. I also filled my perhaps-bag with chanterelles on the way back down, and I'm still puzzling as to how I walked right past them in the morning. I'll blame it on the beautiful golden light filtering through the maples; that, or perhaps the depth of crunchy maple leaves on the ground. In an amusing side note, the elastic waistband of my britches failed unexpectedly, and I did the last two miles of the hike holding my trousers up with one hand. Never a dull moment around here!

Rimrocks

Day 6: It's been years since I hiked in this undeveloped county park. The last time I was here, I was geocaching with Kevin and as we were on our way up the trail, hoping for a "first to find," Kevin's phone rang. It was another geocaching friend who was hoping to meet up with us to go for the cache in honour of his birthday. Kevin and I immediately turned around and hiked back down to meet him on the lower trail. We found the cache, and I had not been back to Rimrock Park since, except to pick holly off a bush growing by the side of the road. That bush inspired today's trip. If there was one holly (and a berry-bearing one at that), there were bound to be others. Anybody sense an invasive plant report coming up here? You're right. That said, the only nasties I found were all holly, and only the one was in fruit. However, there were branches of the trail which I'd never explored, and heading off toward the gun club and the sound of rifle fire, I found this exquisite view of the Rimrocks. There are two questions for which I need answers. First, how was this formation made? Second, how did the high schoolers get up there to emblazon one face with E for Eatonville? I ran out of trail going either way. There must be a secret (and probably illegal) way to the top.

No Old, Bold Mushroomers

Day 5: It's often said that there are old pilots and bold pilots, but no old, bold pilots. The same is true of mushroomers. While no experienced mushroom hunter would confuse these two fungi, an over-enthusiastic beginner might easily do so with unpleasant, even tragic results. That's a puffball on the left, good eating if picked before the interior starts to turn brown. On the right is a young Amanita muscaria, your classic "toadstool," dangerously poisonous.

There are a number of edible and choice "beginner" mushrooms, but even those may sometimes prove challenging to novice collectors. I used to go out chanterelle-picking with my fishing buddy and his brother-in-law. The brother-in-law knew his stuff, and often came home with his basket full of things I didn't feel I could confidently identify. On the other hand, although he and I had showed the third member of our team the chanterelle's characteristic veins (as opposed to gills), we invariably had to sort through his gleanings to remove Galerina autumnalis (poisonous) and anything else which just happened to be orange. Sometimes, we just discarded the whole lot out of concern for cross-contamination.

While there is no scientific difference between a "mushroom" and a "toadstool" (it's only semantic), knowing whether a species is edible, poisonous or just not worth the bother is a crucial distinction when harvesting mushrooms from the wild. Be "105%" sure when you pick. You might not get a chance to say, "Well, I guess I was wrong about that one."

Faerie Tables

Day 4: Yesterday's mission to Nisqually State Park gave me a chance to check on the status of the Amanita muscarias I'd observed a week or so ago. Many of them had been close to the end of their cycles at the time, and of course those have deteriorated even further. However, some of the more viable fungi have now spread their caps in the classic "toadstool" shape. Can't you just imagine a toad or frog perched on top of one of these? Or maybe sitting underneath it? Or maybe your fancies run in the same direction as mine to think of these as "faerie tables," especially when they are laid with such homey checkered "tablecloths." Logic insists that faeries, therefore, must have digestive systems which can process the poisonous alkaloids contained in these storybook 'shrooms, or maybe that's why there are so few sightings of the fair folk these days.

Discovering Manke Mountain

Day 3: The theme for today was set by an email from one of my contacts at the Nisqually Land Trust. Based on signage at a particular location, I had stopped by the office to report an issue with invasives and discovered that the property where I had found them is now part of the new Nisqually State Park. While that makes my reporting job easier, the issue of the boundary signs needed to be resolved. To that end, I made a preliminary run to waypoint all the existing signs for later removal by someone else, a person who will need to be at least a foot taller than I am. Although I had a seven-mile route planned out, I decided to explore a side trail just to see where it went. In a small clearing, I found a hand-routed sign, "Manke Mt." I'm not sure who Mankes were, but the family must have been fairly large; they have a road named after them in a different county. According to my USGS map, however, this is not the true summit of 908' Manke Mt. That lies slightly further east, and an abandoned road goes directly across it. Still, the sign was a fun find. I finished up my hike with a total of 23 signs which will need to be removed, and "Manke Mt." is definitely not one of them.

Chlorochroa Ligata, Conchuela Bug

Day 2: "People who confuse entomology with etymology bug me in a way I can't describe." Today, you get both. I was curious about the origins of "Conchuela" with respect to one of the largest stinkbugs to be found in the Pacific Northwest (Chlorochroa ligata, commonly called Conchuela Bug), and have had little luck researching the etymology. However, I suspect it derives from Latin "concha" which describes to a shell or shell-like structure, here referring to a beetle's hard wing covers. Of course, those same wing covers are called "elytrae" in scientific terms, just to add to the confusion. Etymology: what is the root of that word? Entomology: what kind of critter is on that plant? Conchuelas are indiscriminate eaters, gobbling down tender deciduous material of many species of forbs, shrubs and trees. In states where cotton is produced, they are a serious pest. In the South, they are dark brown, but here in the Pacific Northwest, they are green.

Check The Comma

Day 1: To open 365 Caws' ninth year of daily publication, I bring you Polygonia satyrus (Satyr Comma), a late-flying specimen encountered just a few days ago in Nisqually State Park. I'd gone out intending to explore the farthest reach of what I expected to be a dead-end trail (somewhere I had not gone previously in this relatively new park), but rather than terminating at a bluff above the river as anticipated, the disused path wrapped around and continued on, looping back to the main road some miles later. The highest point was a small, open grassland, and it was there that I found the Comma. I pursued it for a tenth of a mile or so, trying to get good photographs of both a dorsal and a ventral view. Every time my shadow fell across it, it would take wing and fly another ten feet before coming to rest. Individual Commas can be rather variable in colour, so the field characteristic which specifies "paler margin on hind wing" is not always 100% reliable. To tell them apart, you need to see the white marking on the underside of the wing which gives them their common name. Our two most common Commas in this area are Green and Satyr. The Green Comma's underwing is marked with a flattened semicircle; Satyr Comma's "comma" is pointed on both ends and resembles a check mark (see inset).

Shaggy Mushroom Story

Day 365: Unlike the proverbial "shaggy dog story" which is drawn out to great length, the "shaggy mushroom story" is marked by a brevity legendary in fungal species. From the time one of the inky-caps (Coprinus)emerges from the ground to its utter dissolution into black goo is often just a matter of days. The best known of the Coprinus is the estimable Shaggymane, Coprinus comatus. It is considered a "beginner species" for mycophages (people who eat mushrooms) because its characteristics are easily determined in the field. When a Shaggymane first breaks ground, it is a tiny brown button. It grows quickly into a club-shaped off-white mushroom with a scaly, elongated cap. The best time to pick Shaggies is before the base of the cap has released fully from the stipe, leaving a ring (annulus) behind. Once the cap begins to open, the mushroom starts to deteriorate. The lower edge blackens first, progressing up the cap until it is entirely blackened and mushy. Depending on weather conditions, full deterioration can happen in the space of a few hours from the time the cap releases from the stipe. In fact, sometimes picked mushrooms will go to ink in the collector's basket before they can be cleaned and prepared. The inky portions of a Shaggymane have a bitter taste, so when cleaning them, remove any discoloured bits and salvage the undamaged portions. I prepare a delicious Cream of Shaggy soup using milk, canned milk, salt, pepper, flour, butter and a touch of garlic powder. Saute the diced mushrooms in butter first. They will give off a lot of liquid, essentially a mushroom nectar which you will want to include in your soup. Cook them only until they are tender. In a cup or bowl, mix the flour into cold milk as if to make gravy or white sauce, add to the mushrooms with the spices and bring to a gentle boil. Remove from the heat as soon as the first bubbles arise and serve immediately.

The Perhaps Bag

Day 364: During the Krushchev era when food shortages were common in the Soviet Union, Russian shoppers (particularly women) would carry a string bag called "avoska." The word translates roughly as a "perhaps-bag," as in "Perhaps today there will be bread," or "perhaps I will be able to purchase an egg." At this time of the year, I carry my own version of the perhaps-bag: a gallon ziplock, a clean plastic grocery bag, or sometimes when I forget, the spare cloth field bag I keep in the trunk of the car. Today, "perhaps" paid off big-time. While hiking a disused trail, I came across several flushes of Shaggymane mushrooms, my favourite soup-fungus. I had a "perhaps-knife" with me as well, having cut 'shrooms with my thumbnail more times than I like to admit. These are just a few of the best. Shaggymanes are a members of the Coprinus family, i.e., inky-caps. They deteriorate into black goo in just a few days. Tune in tomorrow for "Shaggymane Hunting 101."

Hericium Abietis, Bear's-Head

Day 363: This exquisite fungus has been jostled around taxonomically quite a bit since I first learned its scientific classification, and it seems to be one of those species names which is resistant to change in my mind. I hope that the friends who asked me about it only yesterday will forgive me for referring to it as a Hydnum from force of habit. In fact, the currently proper nomenclature is Hericium abietis, known commonly as Bear's-Head. It is edible and choice, but my conscience would give me gyp if I ever picked one and ate it. To me, that would be the gluttonous equivalent of...oh, let's say spray-painting graffiti on Yellowstone's Mammoth Terraces which, in fact, it resembles.

I had been admiring a recurrent colony for a number of years, watching it expand with each subsequent fruiting season until three years ago when I encountered a pair of collectors bearing large plastic bags near the spot where it grew. Given the size of their bags, I explained the Park's limits on gathering wild comestibles, but gave an inward sigh, fearing the deed had already been done and the evidence tucked safely out of sight. Continuing my patrol, I made a loop past the spot where my exemplary specimen should have been...and it was not. Nor was the smaller one which had been developing nearby. I checked the site again each of the next two years, but there was no sign of the fungus. Last night, Kevin showed me a photo he'd taken, largely to ask if I could identify it. I grilled him for the location, and today had the opportunity to check for myself. It was not growing in the precise spot where the previous specimens had been found, but it was close enough to be part of the same mycelial system. I hope no one collects it. It would be such a pity to destroy something so beautiful just for a few minutes of gustatory gratification.

Chestnut Confusion

Day 361: How do you tell the difference between a horse chestnut (inedible, top) and an edible chestnut (bottom)? First of all, you should know that horse chestnuts belong to an entirely different genus (Aesculus) than true chestnuts (Castanea). However, certain physical similarities have given rise to the common name, and also are reflected in the taxonomy, i.e., Aesculus castanum (think "castanets," a term from the same root word). There are several different species of edible chestnut in the US, and since many are hybrids, I won't go farther than simply lumping them all together under "Castanea." The leaves of the horse chesnut tree are palmate, which is to say they are arranged like fingers on a hand. Those of true chestnuts are alternate, i.e., they are arranged along the stem singly, each leaf pointing away from the ones nearest it. The burr which encloses the nut is quite spiky in true chestnuts; horse chestnuts have fewer spines and look like the head of a mediaeval mace. The burrs of Aesculus (horse chestnut) split into halves, releasing a round "conker" from inside, as opposed to those of Castanea which split into twos or fours depending on species to reveal up to three nuts with pointed tips. Unfortunately, my description of edible chestnuts is going to have to end here because none of those I found beneath the trees had developed fully. All I could find were empty brown husks, no chestnuts to roast, sorry!

Diversity And Cooperation

Day 361: Diversity and cooperation make the world both beautiful and complex. One has only to look at a 6" x 6" piece of tree bark in one of the Pacific Northwest's damp forests to see both principles in operation. Species co-exist in a variety of cooperative relationships, and none represents partnership any more strongly than the family of lichens. Pairing in numerous combinations of algae, fungus and yeast, lichens exhibit a wealth of forms and survival strategies. Maybe humans should take a lesson from Nature. Just sayin'.

Pawn Your Horse

Day 360: I hope to follow this post with another comparing horse chestnuts to edible chestnuts, but I did not think to photograph the leaves of the several species which stand in Morton's Gust Backstrom Park. Nor did I think to gather any of the fallen fruit (fruit?) from beneath the trees, possibly because my only previous attempt at roasting chestnuts was unsuccessful. Thanks to YouTube, I now know a better way to go about it and am kicking myself for not collecting enough for a culinary experiment. In any event, these are horse chestnuts, Aesculus hippocastanum, inedible and mildly toxic, related to Lychees and sometimes called "conkers." True chestnuts are members of the genus Castanea. The nuts are easy to differentiate when in the husk; true chestnuts resemble large, thickly spiny burrs whereas horse chestnuts have fewer spines.

Putting A Spin On It

Day 359: I have finished up the grey Gotland wool (24 ounces) except for measuring and setting the twist in the last skein. Now I am spinning "in the grease," i.e. spinning raw, unwashed wool. The lanolin in the wool makes it a sticky job and it's not as easy as spinning from roving, but I find the sheepy scent enjoyable, if a little barnyardy. So far, the cats haven't investigated, although Tip picked up a tiny tuft of wool I'd dropped and wasn't at all happy that he couldn't get it off his tongue. I only have 7 ounces of raw wool to spin, just enough for a nice stocking cap. Next up is some lovely dyed fiber I bought at the Puyallup Fair.

Pigments

Day 358: Every year, at least one person asks me why leaves change colour in the fall. Although there's a bit more to it, the basics are easy to understand. During the months of spring and summer, warm temperatures and length of daylight encourage the production of chlorophyll, the chemical substance which allows plants to convert carbon dioxide into starches and sugars. As nights grow cooler and daylight diminishes in autumn, the cells at the juncture of leaf and stem begin to thicken, restricting the uptake of carbohydrates. This process is called "abscission," i.e., "cutting off," and will eventually cause the leaves to fall. With the supply of carbohydrates limited, the chlorophyll begins to break down, allowing other pigments present in the leaf to become dominant visually. Different plants contain various levels of the different pigments, so those which have high concentrations of xanthophyll appear yellow, those with carotene appear orange, and those containing anthocyanins turn various shades of red. Other factors such as drought or an early frost may affect the colours as well.

Textbook Specimen

Day 357: The Amanitas I found during my hike day before yesterday were so lovely that I can't resist sharing another one with you. I would describe this one as a "textbook example," but for the fact that the cap isn't the brilliant red one normally associates with Amanita muscaria. That said, it is well within the range typical of the species. Age, weather and soil chemistry may all affect an individual mushroom's colour. In this image, the morphological features are readily apparent: the cap bearing remnants of the veil (the "spots"), and beneath it, the annulus (ring) of tissue appears like a tutu around the stipe. The annulus is also a remnant of the veil, breaking free at the rim of the cap as the mushroom expands its "umbrella." At ground level, the cup-like volva is visible with the stipe arising from it. When immature, the veil and volva surround the developing mushroom entirely, giving it an appearance all too similar to edible puffballs. When the two fungi grow in the same area, care must be taken when collecting puffballs to eat. Each one should be cut in half vertically to be sure that the interior tissue is uniform throughout. Amanitas will show evidence of stipe/cap structure in a cut specimen.

Toadstool Territory

Day 356: Easily the most recognizable mushroom in the world, featured in faerie tale books and video games, Amanita muscaria has a dangerous beauty. Like other Amanitas, it contains alkaloids which affect liver and kidney function, a warning which I'm sure some old hippies are now wishing they'd heeded instead of ingesting the mushroom in order to obtain its hallucinogenic effects. Best to appreciate this one where it stands, folks. It'll get you in the end. That said, muscaria is gorgeous, and I have seldom seen as textbook-perfect specimens as I found during an invasive-plant patrol yesterday. Typically, this "toadstool" has a bright red cap, although older specimens may fade to golden or pale yellow. The spots wash off with rain, but the annulus (a ring of tissue around the stem which is visible in fully open individuals) is a good indicator of genus.

Now a bit of back-story...when my husband and I were preparing to move onto his grandparent's homestead property near Olympia, we did a patrol of the acreage to see what issues might be hiding in the timber. We came upon a picture-perfect grouping of muscaria at the edge of the woods, and immediately decided to call the ranch "Toadstool Acres." The land grew several species of Amanita, but the only consistent crop of edible fungus it produced were delicate puffballs. Puffballs are quite tasty (although the species we had required "shelling" like a hard-boiled egg), but they are easy to confuse with young, unopened muscaria. Before I could fry up a batch, each puffball had to be cut in two vertically to check for the telltale outline of a muscaria's stem and cap. Puffballs are a uniform texture throughout. There's a reason one local mycological society used to hold an annual "Survivors' Banquet." Many mushrooms don't give you the opportunity to make a second mistake. Even those which don't outright kill you may have long-term consequences.

And That (Said John) Is That

Day 355: It comes in handy for many things, my favourite line from A. A. Milne's "Happiness" poem in "When We Were Very Young":

John had
Great Big
Waterproof
Boots on;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Hat;
John had a
Great Big
Waterproof
Mackintosh -
And that
(Said John)
Is
That.

This morning, it came in handy for the first light frost. I looked out at the moss on the garage roof, saw the sparkles, thought of my tomatoes, and quoted aloud, "'And that (said John) is that.'"

Alice Hoffman And The Garden News

Day 354: Of the three new varieties of Hardy Fuchsia I planted this year (Dutch Pearl, Garden News and Alice Hoffman), I was a little worried that Alice had disappeared down the rabbit hole. She was a spindly plant to begin with, and I added insult to injury by planting her a little too deeply. Her delicate foliage (normally much smaller than that of other varieties even under optimum growing conditions) suffered in consequence and her stems never achieved more than 4" in height. But dear Alice may just be a late bloomer. She is starting to put on a few flowers with coppery-pink sepals and white petals. Although Dutch Pearl's flowering period is over, Garden News has produced an abundance of full-sized blooms all summer long and (knock on wood), none of my hardies have been bothered by insect pests (frequently an issue with the annual varieties). I'll be dividing some of the plants next spring. Gotta keep those hummingbirds happy!

Extended Experiment

Day 353: As I was preparing to pick the remaining Akebia pods from the vine, it occurred to me that I shouldn't waste the opportunity to see if my cross-pollination efforts might have produced viable seed. To that end, I encased the pods loosely in nylon netting just a few days before they split. As they dry out, the seeds will be caught in the net. The Akebia vine is relatively attractive and semi-evergreen, and despite rumours to the contrary, it isn't likely to propagate to invasive levels on its own, given my limited success at cross-pollinating. If I do get plants from these seeds, it will be interesting to see if they mature and bloom, and if so, which colour will prove dominant. And then? Maybe back-breeding with one of the parent plants or introducing new stock. Lots of possibilities here! Luther Burbank I'm not, but I do know how to graph a Punnett Square.