Portulaca In A Pot

Day 260: For all of Portulaca being described as "self-sowing," a phrase which inclines one to think it would be easy to grow, I have had very little luck starting it from seed. Late this spring, I found myself with one prepared container and nothing to put in it, so I wandered around in a nursery for half an hour until something caught my eye. A four-inch starter pot with several colours and a reasonable price of $2 made it irresistible. It has proven to be quite a worthwhile investment as it is now beginning to take over the container, and its patchwork of warm hued flowers rising above succulent foliage brightens my mornings when I look out the kitchen door. Portulaca is also known as "Moss Rose." It is native to South America and withstands heat and dry soils fairly well.

Honeysuckle, Lonicera Sp.

Day 259: If I'd taken a minute to think about it, I would have realized why the nectar level in the hummingbird feeders wasn't dropping as rapidly as it was two weeks ago. The Honeysuckle (Lonicera) had come into bloom! My plant climbs up one corner of the garage where it generally goes unnoticed until some point when I step out in the back yard and am assailed with a waft of sweet scent. It's leggy and ragged, but then, I knew it would be like that when I planted it, and it should be noted that I did not plant it for myself; I planted it for the hummers. My "landscaping" (a term which is laughably inappropriate when discussing my yard) is like that: tatty, not structured in the least, floriferous but undisciplined, yet purposeful in its chaos. Call it my botanical "junk drawer," filled with useful things all tangled up with one another: cabled shrubby habitat, nuts-and-bolts nectar producers, twist-tie pollinator attractors and the occasional "why did I save this" item which never seems to get tossed. There's probably something in it which would suffice to patch a leak, connect two parts, fill a gap, take care of any except the most major repair. And there are even some things in it which improve on the existing measures...like Honeysuckle, drawing the hummers away from the sugar water in the feeders.

Mac Is Back!

Day 258: Mac is back! Last year, my "pet" Corallorhiza maculata was nipped off by something (deer, slug, squirrel...I don't know who the culprit was) when it was only about six inches tall. This year, she's making up for lost time by putting up two stalks which, as you can see here, are just beginning to flower. I've done my best to protect the plant by installing an 18" high chicken-wire fence around it, staked to the ground with short lengths of bamboo garden wand. That said, the Corallorhizas are amazingly resilient. Many can remain in a dormant state for years without ever breaking ground. The key lies in the plants' companion fungi. Each species of Coralroot has one or more specific "companion" fungi on which they depend. The fungi break down nutrients in the soil which can then be taken up by the plant. Currently, there is debate among botanists as to whether this is parasitism (in which case the fungus derives no benefit from the plant) or true mycoheterotrophy (a cooperative arrangement in which plant and fungus provide some requirement). I hold with the latter view on the hypothesis that if a long-term partnership has evolved, then it must in some way be advantageous to both parties. Despite the fact that we haven't identified what that exchange might be, absence of evidence does not negate the possiblility of it existing in some way we cannot detect. Good science is inquiry, not denial.

Western Tanager, Documented

Day 257: I had a lot of help from Mother Nature in capturing this image of a Western Tanager (Piranga ludoviciana) who was visiting my yard. I've found these birds to be difficult to document photographically. They always jump out of the frame a fraction of a second before the shutter engages, or they hide among foliage, only revealing themselves with the occasional tantalizing flash of orange and yellow. How did Ma help me out? Well, we're building up to a heat wave here, and as a consequence, it's been quite windy. Mr. Tanager (yes, this is a male) was struggling to keep his balance on the wire and was so preoccupied that he didn't notice when I opened the back door and stepped out onto the porch. I had just enough time to snap four or five shots at 74x digital zoom, this being the best of the lot. I knew it had been too much to hope for his appearance on my Big Day because Tanagers don't often come to the yard. That said, this is the second time I've seen him this year.

Alliance

Day 256: For the first time since the pandemic began, Mount Rainier National Park will be sending a contingent of rangers to march in Seattle's Pride Parade. I will be among them. Yes, I am concerned about covid. Moreso (and particularly in light of recent events), I am worried about potential violence. I am going nevertheless. Why? Of the people in my close acquaintance, roughly 50 percent are either LGBTQ+ or have an LGBTQ+ family member. These are people I care about, people whose rights as human beings may very well be in serious jeopardy. It is one way I can say, "I am an ally. I respect your choices." I am fed up to the back teeth with groups of people telling other groups of people that their way is the only way, that their religious beliefs supercede those of others, that their opinions are the only ones that matter. I am tired of hypocrisy and of divisiveness. I am sick of people being judged by the colour of their skins, by what private acts they engage in with a consenting partner. If their rights fall, what next? We cannot stand idly by when the lives of friends and their families are threatened. Be an ally.

Brunnera "Jack Frost"

Day 255: First, a word of explanation: I often use my blog posts as a botanical record, referring back to them for details about a plant, its phenological cycle, and sometimes even its nomenclature, so when I attempted to look up Brunnera because I had forgotten its name, I was surprised to see that nothing came up when I searched on "forget-me-not." Okay, Brunnera is not a true forget-me-not (Myosotis), but that was something I would have mentioned when discussing it. I found Pentaglottis, another forget-me-not look-alike, but there was no post about Brunnera, so I will remedy that today.

Brunnera is a comparatively non-invasive alternate for people who want that "forget-me-not blue" in their gardens. It is far less likely to spread, and easier to remove if it does attempt to escape its bounds. Flowers aside, many people grow it for its foliage with the silver-speckled varieties like "Jack Frost" (above) being exceptionally popular. The relatively large heart-shaped leaves are borne on a compact plant which can be pruned to maintain a mound-like shape if it gets leggy. Best of all, it prefers a sun-fleck environment, and in dappled light, those beguiling blue eyes are a guaranteed winner. Mine was a gift from my botany partners, Joe and Sharon.

Sunflower Seed

Day 254: Let me introduce you to Sunflower Seed. That's the name I've given to any number of young visitors who are at great risk of getting their little Pine Siskin bottoms stepped on because they are so well camouflaged against the hulls scattered by the birds at the feeders. My vision is not particularly good, and several times during periods of low light, I have come narrowly close to tromping one of my dear children. Siskins are friendly creatures even as adults, but the youngsters are as innocent of the world as any bird I've met. They often take seed from my palm or perch on my hand to eat, and those feeding on the ground don't seem to understand that the great lumbering animal approaching them constitutes any sort of threat. I've taken to shuffling down the sidewalk, but even so, they often refuse to budge. I'd never forgive myself if I stepped on a Sunflower Seed.

Quick And Crazy

Day 253: Despite the fact that I have been working on two quilt tops simultaneously, I managed to complete the 30 blocks for the Crazy Quilt in a mere two weeks. I finished assembling them this morning. Because this quilt is foundation-pieced (i.e., the fabrics are stitched onto muslin squares), it is a bit heavier than usual, which means that batting it is not absolutely necessary, although a thin batt could be used if desired. Right now, I plan to simply back it with another piece of muslin, bind the edges and tie it at either the corners or centers of the blocks. It measures 62" x 51", the perfect size for a lap throw or "cuddle blanket." The second quilt is coming along famously as well, and is also made from scraps cut into regularly shaped pieces, but the best news is that my stash of leftover fabrics has shrunk considerably. Time to start laying in a new supply!

Best Bloomer

Day 252: Let's make it official: H. fitchii takes the prize for Best Bloomer in my Hoya collection. Fitch, as he is lovingly known, has been producing flower clusters every six weeks or so, each one bearing more individual flowers with each successive blossoming period. Not only are the "star clusters" larger than those of Hoya bella, the former title holder, but they are deliciously fragrant, and their coppery colour is unusual to say the least. Fitch currently holds three such clusters and at least five other spurs which will come into bloom in their own good time. I haven't been paying sufficient attention to determine conclusively if they flower in rotation, but I believe so. Hoya fitchii is truly a stellar performer, the pride of my indoor garden.

From Cabbage To Coleslaw

Day 251: If the trimmings from cutting out fabric for a garment are called "cabbage," then this must be "coleslaw." I'm working on two scrap quilts simultaneously and have reached the point on one of them where the blocks are ready to be cut to their final size before being assembled. This means I'm generating a lot of coleslaw from the cabbage I used to piece them. I am not quite so afflicted with OCD that I feel any compulsion to find a purpose for it beyond making a colourful photograph, but I suppose it could be used as filling for stuffed toys. "Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." Never has my grandmother's advice been so apt as in these times of shortages and rising prices.

Veronica Officinalis, Common Speedwell

Day 250: The weeds are winning. This cute little Speedwell (Veronica officinalis) is a European introduction. Admittedly, its status is listed as "not of concern," but that's only because no one but me ever walks through my back yard. It is especially prevalent this year around the foundation where I disturbed the soil to plant the seeds in a wildflower packet. The packet contained its own sampling of semi-invasives, notably California poppies which, it must be noted, I now see springing up along my neighbour's fence line where I can do nothing about them. Sometimes it feels like I've been trying to dip the ocean dry with a teaspoon, fighting invasives. The property behind mine is full of them, albeit ones for which the county does not mandate control. Ox-eye daisies line our roadways, perennial Peavine and Narrow-leaved Peavine clog ditches, and Scotch Broom flaunts its ability to resist our best efforts to remove it by establishing monocultures on private property. I look out the front window, and the view makes me think that Common Speedwell and a few California poppies are rather innocuous when they're fighting for life among the dominating daisies. Or maybe I'm just getting too old and tired to keep fighting this war.

Vancouveria Hexandra, Inside-Out Flower

Day 249: When fully open, the tiny blooms of Vancouveria hexandra are reflexed, i.e., they sweep backwards to expose the stamens. Six petals form the blossoms' distinctive "inside-out" form and give rise to a most logical common name of "Inside-out Flower." Although the shape is reminiscent of Shooting-star and Cyclamen, Vancouveria is unrelated to either, and in fact is a member of the diverse Barberry family. It is endemic to the low and middle elevations of the Pacific Northwest to northern California, and often forms a dense groundcover when conditions are ideal. Its foliage is attractive, each compound leaf consisting of up to 15 three-lobed leaflets which in shape resemble a duck's webbed foot or a stylized drawing of a tulip.

Just Say Cotoneaster

Day 248: "You say 'to-MA-to,' I say 'to-MAH-to.'" No, not really, but I do say "lichen" to rhyme with "kitchen" rather than "likin'" and I eat "sc-ONNs" rather than "sc-OHnes," and I have a "co-TONE-ee-aster" growing at the edge of my property. It is not a "cotton-easter." It has nothing to do with bunnies, their tails or baskets full of eggs and candy. I have a vague recollection of having planted it shortly after I moved here, and an even more vague memory of pulling it out and relocating it, although I can't be sure whether I replanted it or whether it took root where I threw it into the brush. I promptly forgot all about it until one day when its red berries attracted my eye, and I then spent some time trying to figure out what it was. How easily we forget! In any event, it seems to be happy where it is, and it's not spreading like Cotoneaster sometimes does. It can stay.

Obligatory Rhododendron

Day 247: When you are a homeowner in western Washington, it is almost obligatory that you plant a rhododendron in your yard. After all, the shrub is our state flower. The large-flowered native variety R. macrophyllum carries masses of pinkish-white blooms resembling those of the commercial cultivars, but most people are unaware that there are species with smaller white or cream flowers, and even one known as "False Huckleberry" which has small bell-shaped blossoms. In all, there are six native Rhododendrons, only one of which looks like the ones you see in peoples' yards. That said, the commercial plants do very well here, growing quickly into large bushes, at least in areas where the deer and elk don't keep them pruned back. This is the first year since I planted mine that Bambi has allowed it to bloom.

32 Easy Pieces

Day 246: "32 Easy Pieces" sounds like a beginner's piano album, but that's all it takes to create this ultimate stash-buster quilt block. It could not be more forgiving! There are no seams to line up with each other, no points to match, only strips to be sewn together in straight lines. The Potato Chip pattern called for all the pieces to be the same size, but I found that it was better to make the outer row a little wider and the four corner pieces a little longer in order to have plenty of leeway when trimming to a 12" square. You will need 18 pieces 2 x 3.5", 10 pieces 2.5 x 3.5" and 4 pieces 2.5 x 4". The sets of 10 and 4 will be used in the outer row. Lay all the pieces for the block out on a board and arrange them to your liking. Take a picture, because it's easy to get confused when you start assembling them, but almost the entire block can be chain-processed (i.e., without cutting the thread). Beginning at the center, stitch two pieces together along their long edges with a 1/4" seam. Next, sew the two "top" pieces together along the short sides. Cut the center loose from the chain of sewing and sew on the lefthand vertical single. Now sew the two "bottom" pieces together along their short sides. Cut the center and previously stitched "top" piece off the chain. Add the righthand vertical single to the center. Now your "top" pair is free. Add it to the center, and continue by stitching the two lefthand pieces of row 3 together. Once you see how this works, it's easy to move outward, sewing on sides or tops/bottoms as needed. Ideally, you'll only have to break the thread and start over when applying the final strip to the outer edge, but even if you screw up, it's no more serious than having to start sewing from a new thread. That said, the photo you took at the start of this project is going to come in handy now. It's easy to lose track of whether you're sewing verticals or horizontals together, or which piece was supposed to be attached next. As you can see, the pieces stack like bricks, one brick stacked atop the junction of the two bricks beneath it. To continue this in the full quilt, the next 12" block will be turned 90 degrees. If you don't want to make your quilt entirely scrappy, you could make the row just inside the final row from solid-coloured fabrics. For this project, though, I want to use up the fabrics which have gone into my Pandemic Quilts and start with something new and different.

Going Crazy

Day 245: There comes a time in every quilter's career when the closets and cupboards are filled to overflowing with boxes and bags of scraps too good to throw away. Why, it's enough to drive you crazy! The logical solution to this problem is to create a Crazy Quilt, a style in which no two blocks have to be alike in either colour or the shape of the pieces. In the last three days, I have made 18 eleven-inch blocks which ultimately will go together to make a lap throw or a light topper for a double bed (30 or 36 blocks respectively). The piecing is relatively forgiving compared to other quilting methods, although there are a few areas where difficulties may arise. However, because of its very nature, problems are usually easily solved by adding another patch. There are no rules here, and my system for assembling the crazy blocks is only one of many methods. First of all, it should be noted that the pieces are stitched to a foundation (in this case, plain muslin). I start with a five-sided center (one piece of fabric, or several pieces stitched together and cut to the desired shape), adding additional pieces in a clockwise manner until the entire foundation fabric is covered. There's a lot of trimming, a degree of thread-picking, and of course the blocks will eventually need to be cut to their final dimension, but then comes the fun part: laying them out. I'm fussy. I don't want two identical fabrics touching or in the same position, so I frequently lay the blocks out on the floor, arrange them to suit my eye, and then walk away for a while. It's almost a given that when I look at them again, I'll spot something I hadn't noticed previously, like two reds too close together, or two purple corners both in the upper right. Even so, I may miss something, and then the finished piece becomes the ultimate Quilt Game as I played it when a child: find the pairs, find similarities, count the cats, find the only mouse. There is comfort in a hand-made quilt which exceeds its warmth and softness, memories to be made from its patterns and colours, even when the blocks are a little crazy.

Golden Chain

Day 244: A Golden Chain tree (Laburnum) was high on the list of plants I wanted to add when I purchased my property over thirty years ago. At the time, the only "landscaping" (a term I use quite loosely here) consisted of a yew hedge, a sickly lilac and a flowering tree I could not identify to save my soul. I went so far as to take a sprig of the Whatzit Tree to a master gardener who was likewise baffled, but that's another story. My quest for a Laburnum was stymied by prices well out of my budget, and little by little, the yard filled in with other more affordable shrubs and plants. Still, I kept dreaming of a Golden Chain, and while wandering around a nursery six years ago, I spotted a weeping version among the closeout items. With the nurseryman's strong-armed help, we managed to wrestle the pot into the back seat of my car, and painstakingly bent the branches to fit against the back window without breaking any of them. When I got home, I dug the proverbial $50 hole for my newest acquisition. It's not much taller than it was that day, but it produces cascades of beautiful, fragrant golden chains to brighten my walk out to the mailbox.

Superstition

Day 243: Although I do enjoy iris, Superstition is the only full-sized one I grow. Why? Because they are such a pain in the neck to keep weeded. The tubers allow dandelions and grass to poke up through while blocking access to their tenacious roots. While it's possible to lift the iris tubers annually to pick out the weeds, the process weakens the plant over time. Having found no other satisfactory solution, I moved "Superstition" from my main flower bed to a spot along the fence where it can surprise me by lifting its rich purple-black heads above the tall grass. In any event, my yard is not about landscaping. It's about habitat and colour. Having come to a more casual attitude toward gardening than that of the "Better Homes and Gardens" set, my back aches less and the birds and pollinators have plenty to enjoy.

The Goal Of Life

Day 242: The Chickens have been sitting on top of my drier for months now, finished and ready to frame, but I was undecided on how I wanted to mount the piece. My needlecrafts often don't fit a standard frame, and in the past, I've used a variety of ways to make them hangable, including sewn cloth borders with rod pockets or tabs, or sometimes buying an old frame at a thrift store and cutting it down to size. I specifically wanted a rustic look for the Chickens, but since thrift-store shopping is out of the question these days, I chose to go with wood I had on hand, i.e., a couple of lengths of plaster lath turned on edge and carefully, oh so very carefully, nailed together at the corners with fine brads (I drilled the holes first to prevent the wood from splitting). Once the shadow-box was complete, I glued in a line of garden twine set back 3/8" from the front to serve as a retainer. The mounted needlework was popped in from the back and secured in place with a piece of cardboard. Then I added a hanging cord and bingo! The Chickens were ready to put on the wall.

Fig!

Day 241: This is momentous news! My "Desert King" fig tree is finally bearing fruit! I counted six end-of-thumb sized figs and a possible seventh smaller one developing. I don't recall exactly when I planted the tree, but it was given to me by a friend who lives in Olympia roughly ten years ago. I can remember when hers produced its first figs (two, if memory serves) and how the following year, the count slightly more than doubled. By its third year of production, she was begging people to take figs off her hands. I obliged by accepting a large panful for canning and, in years since, have brought them home by the bucketful to eat fresh, can and dry. Her tree is now a good fifteen feet high and at least as wide. My offshoot is a mere four feet tall, so six figs is a pretty good showing for its first crop. "Desert King" makes a fairly large green fig, delicious straight off the tree. It is one of the hardier varieties, ideal for the Pacific Northwest. Figs are produced on the current year's growth, so the tree should be pruned regularly to keep the fruit within easy reach.

Forget-me-not When Pulling Weeds

Day 240: No matter how cute or pretty you think they might be, the fact is that three-quarters of the eight species of Myosotis found in Washington are non-native. In fact, the two native species both have much smaller flowers than the Forget-me-nots familiar to most of us. The six offenders are subtle and sneaky invaders. You might be tempted to leave a few in your garden beds for colour, not noticing that after the blooms have disappeared, tiny burrs stick to your socks and bootlaces when you brush against the stems. These "hitchhikers" detach as the barbs dry out and become brittle, dropping at their leisure to create new settlements for their kind. Forget not the Forget-me-nots when you're pulling weeds, and be sure to bag them because the seeds can mature even after the plant is uprooted.

Adenium "Star Cluster"

Day 239: Although Adenium "Star Cluster" bears smaller blossoms than many other Adeniums, it makes up for it in sheer numbers. This time around, the stems have produced a succession of flowers lasting over a month. This is where the Adeniums excel as houseplants: showy displays of outsized blooms. They spend the rest of the year looking like sticks in a pot, or with only a few leaves at the top of a foot-high stalk. In my experience with the cultivars, the leaves drop a little before flowering begins and foliage production resumes once the blooming period is over. It's a trade-off I'm willing to accept  for a month of spectacular floriferousness (and yes, that's really a word). But mind that you do not over-water them. They do not take well to having wet feet. Fertilize only during the active growth period, using a slow-release, balanced product at 1/4-1/2 strength.

Pale Swallowtail, Papilio Eurymedon

Day 238: Yesterday, I saw my first swallowtail of the season, making a bee-line...no, a butterfly-line straight to the lilac. They used to be abundant here, but over the last several years, their numbers have declined. Now admittedly, I only saw one, but that's up from last year's tally, and I hope it means that more will be arriving soon. They are particularly drawn to the lilac and to the delphiniums in my yard (the delphiniums are not yet in bloom). Other local hosts for this species (Pale Swallowtail, Papilio eurymedon) include Red Alder, Serviceberry and Oceanspray. The butterfly can be identified by orange and blue markings on the hind wings, and a slight twist to the "tail" of the wing.

Paxistima Myrsinites, Oregon Boxwood

Day 237: The tiny pink flowers of Oregon Boxwood are difficult to spot unless you're specifically looking for them, measuring no more than 3-4 mm from tip to tip. The species is native to the Pacific Northwest and occurs from British Columbia to northern Mexico and east to Montana, its glossy, toothed foliage distinguishing it from any look-alike. The second half of its binomial Paxistima myrsinites points to the dark green leaf as resembling that of myrtle, although the growth habit of the shrub is more open than that of Myrtus. It is evergreen, and is often sold as a landscaping plant (hardy to Zone 3), and is especially desirable when creating native gardens. It seldom exceeds 36 inches in height and may be pruned to keep it more compact. It is also known by the endearing common name, "Mountain-lover."

Problem Plant

Day 236: Field guides and even professional-level plant manuals tend to focus their descriptions on the characteristics of the inflorescence, making it difficult to determine the identity of a plant based solely on foliage. Fearing that my yard was infested with Garlic Mustard (a Class A invasive), I have been diligently pulling it for years, never allowing it to come into bloom. But something bothered me. For one thing, it pulled relatively easily and the roots did not appear to have the characteristic bend found in Alliaria petiolata. I did not recall having seen first-year rosettes, and the leaves did not smell the least bit garlicky when crushed, no matter how hard I sniffed. Then I happened to notice the two "wings" below the main portion of the leaf, and I began to suspect that perhaps the plant wasn't Garlic Mustard after all. I made a point of pulling a complete specimen and brought it in the house for closer examination. No, it didn't appear to be Alliaria, but if not, what was it? With no flower to analyze, Hitchcock was no help. I tried assuming that it was a crucifer like Garlic Mustard and got nowhere, so I finally sent my photos to Arnie and David Giblin at WTU. Both of them replied with a possible identification of Lapsana communis, with Arnie adding that he'd observed Lapsana in my general area. The description of the foliage in Hitchcock matched perfectly, and I was surprised to note that it has a yellow composite flower resembling a smaller version of the hawkweeds. But...and here's the clincher...it's still a pernicious weed, if not to quite the same extent as Garlic Mustard.

Campground CITO

Day 235: Among geocachers, the term CITO stands for "cache in, trash out." The original concept of this particular type of "event cache" drew cachers together to clean up litter in an area, and then leave behind a physical container with a log book and appropriate swag for other cachers to enjoy. However, the definition of "CITO" became more flexible with time. Mount Rainier National Park prohibits the placement of physical containers, so the event is a one-time opportunity for members of the geocaching community to rack up another smilie in exchange for a few hours' work cleaning up the campground and erecting platform tents for use by summer volunteers. After a hiatus of two years due to covid restrictions, the annual Mount Rainier CITO made its return yesterday. While there wasn't much cleanup to be done in the tent sites, several platforms had to be moved to new locations. Many hands made light work of the process while three of the four supervisors (Kevin, Moe and I) kibitzed from the sidelines. Tom, our campground host, was in the thick of things, making sure that the platforms were properly seated. Years of trial and error have resulted in a smooth system for erecting the tents. The job was done and dusted in just three hours.

June Garden

Day 234: "And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days." So wrote poet James Russell Lowell, and I'm sure he must have been a gardener. June brings the widest range of colour to the flower beds of the Pacific Northwest, and in unsurpassed abundance. While not all of my plants are blooming currently, this is probably at or near the peak in the east bed. The north bed and the Barren Wasteland will follow in two or three weeks, but something will be in bloom in each plot from now through killing frost in late September or October. Even then, a few things will persist: Gazanias, determined to flower until snow buries them; Hellebore, the January faithful. But June, the month of Lowell's vision, excels. Count down their alphabet: azalea, bleeding-heart, calendula, cornflower, columbine times seven, dogwood, kerria, lilac, lily-of-the-valley, lithodora, Oriental poppy, pansies, peony, pyracantha, Siberian iris, snowball bush, spirea, wood-hyacinth in a spectacular rainbow array.

Ma Lai Zhan Zheng Gao

Day 233: I may not be able to wrap my tongue around the name of these cute little steamed sponge cakes (ma lai zhan zheng gao), but I can certainly sink my teeth into them! Mandy of Souped Up Recipes posted the instructions on YouTube a few days ago, and after inventorying my egg supply, I decided I could probably make it through to the middle of next week if I took only left one in the fridge. Out of respect for Mandy's intellectual property, I will not share the recipe here. You can look up her channel easily enough if you'd like to make these very simple dessert dim sum. You undoubtedly have all the ingredients on hand, and in a mere ten minutes, you will have soft, spongy, sweet cakes similar to madeleines, if not almond-flavoured. However, you could change up the recipe by using almond or lemon extract to replace a portion of the vanilla. To me, the flavour as produced by Mandy's recipe was like a light eggnog. In fact, I think I may add a dash of nutmeg the next time I make them! Ideally, the cakes should have come out with one side raised higher than the other, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but because I did such a thorough job of oiling the tartlet pans, mine rose into domes for the most part. But be warned! Tin tartlet pans are a pain in the neck to wash. Silicone would have given a cleaner release.

Yellow Mac

Day 232: I had gone looking for Northern Coralroot (Corallorhiza trifida) in the usual places and wasn't too surprised when I didn't find any, given the wetter and colder spring weather. What did surprise me, though, was the absence of Corallorhiza maculata, the species which grows in my back yard. I was on my way back to the car when something yellowish caught my eye on the hillside about thirty feet above me. "I swear that's Corallorhiza," I said as I began climbing up from the obscure pad of the Damn Trail, "but why is it so tall when there haven't been any other specimens in here? Can't be mertensiana. It's too early for mertensiana." Mertensiana is famous for its wide range of colour variations, maculata less so, although a striking yellow form occasionally occurs. Upon arriving at its side, I could see that the flowers were just beginning to emerge from some of the stems. I waypointed the specimen with my GPS, and will be keeping an eye on its development. If perhaps not the brilliant yellow variation I've seen elsewhere, I suspect it will prove out to be a yellow-tinged C. maculata.

Sunshine Point Water Tower

Day 231: I do not know if the old water tower which served Sunshine Point Campground for many years qualifies as a historic structure or not, but my curiosity about it is growing and I know the people to ask. Given our Pacific Northwe't climate, I'm surprised it's still standing after all this time. The Calypso Orchids and Northern Coralroot which once graced the slope beneath it have almost ceased to appear. Today, one lone Calypso poked up behind a log amid a tangle of broken branches and forest debris, a small and cheerful companion for this old relic. "See? I have not forgotten you. I bloom to recall you to your better days."