Ruminating On Germinating

Day 200: Spring usually finds me digging out the seed-starting trays in mid-March, ready to plant those "8-10 weeks before last frost" species, but this year, I had decided to grow flowers for drying again, and both packets suggested planting dates merely a month in advance of when I planned to set them out. I was surprised when three or four days later, all the Strawflowers had sprouted. As soon as their first true leaves have formed, I'll be pinching out all but one or two in each cell. Soon, I'll be moving the tray outside when morning temps allow, bringing it back in at night until at least mid-May. Then I'll leave the seedlings out for a few nights to harden off before planting them in the garden where they'll be joined by the Chinese Lanterns which have yet to germinate.

Gooseberry Flower

Day 199: Well, if you've ever backed into a gooseberry bush, you'll understand what I mean when I say that they're good at spurring you into action. However, in this case, it wasn't prickles but blossoms which got me into high gear; that, and some already developing fruit which reminded me that I still had last year's crop in the freezer, waiting to be turned into jam. I had enough for a single batch (seven half-pints), gooseberry jam being one of my favourites, and enough left over for a small pie. My bushes aren't large, and I keep them pruned back for ease of harvesting the fruit. Older canes are easy to identify by the sheer number of thorns they bear, and since the plant fruits best on 2-3 year old canes, the older ones should be cut out at the end of each growing season. Unless we have some kind of weather extreme (hot or cold), it looks like this year's crop will be good.

Parrot Time

Day 198: It's full-on Porch Parrot Time, and the trees are alive with the sound of chirping. Yes, the Evening Grosbeaks (Hesperiphona vespertinus) are back en masse. The males (left) have been around for a month or so, only joined by the females (right) in the last few days. I have only seen one or two Black-headed females in the mix, but no males as yet. It makes me curious about the division of household duties, why the males of one species would serve as scouts, but the females of another perform the same task. In any event, it's an exciting time. Pretty soon, there will be little baby Porch Parrots at the feeders, for me, one of the happiest times of the year.

Matchmaker To Akebia

Day 197: They had me worried! The white Akebia vine was blooming profusely, producing lots of pollen with nowhere to go. The purple vine...the bearer of fertile female flowers...wasn't doing so well. I'd pruned both back radically last fall when the trellis collapsed, and the purple one hadn't taken well to the haircut. It was only showing a few male flowers last week and, as you may recall, the cross must be made with pollen from the white vine's male flowers to the females of the purple. It doesn't work the other way around, as my experiments have shown. Last night, I discovered a few receptive female blooms, and dashed into the house to get my horticultural paintbrush. Okay, Akebia fruits are pretty strange and certainly not to everyone's taste, but they are secondary to the fun I get from cross-pollinating. That said, I vowed that this year, I wouldn't go overboard, limiting myself to no more than a dozen potential Akebia pods at full ripeness.

Ol' Blue Eyes Are Back

Day 196: Frank Sinatra might have sung it with a slight grammatical revision: Ol' Blue Eyes Are Back. Brunnera "Jack Frost" and Lithodora are center stage in my flower beds currently, the only blue I'm likely to see outdoors for at least the next week. And they are intense! While Brunnera resembles those pesky forget-me-nots I keep pulling, it does not have the same tendency to spread. The foliage of "Jack Frost" is particularly lovely, and even once the flowers have faded, it brightens the shady area at the end of my carport. Lithodora is a ground cover, evergreen foliage reminiscent of rosemary, and even in winter, it nearly always provides at least a few winks of its blue eyes. I love it when my garden is singing the blues!

Asarum Caudatum

Day 195: Putting aside the rarities as a category unto themselves, it would be hard for me to say which wildflower is my favourite. However, Asarum caudatum (Wild Ginger, unrelated to true ginger) is certainly close to the top of the list. It took me years to find it because I was looking for flowers held above the leaves, and had I not been hiking a trail which passed beneath a hillside where it was growing at eye level, I might never have thought to look beneath the foliage. Since that first discovery, I've realized that it's more common than I'd imagined. In fact, when I found it growing abundantly in the undeveloped lot next door, I lifted some carefully and transplanted it to my yard. Every year, my little colony has enlarged by a plant or two, and this year, is loaded with those mysterious long-tailed blooms which supply the "caudatum" portion of its Latin name.

Hearts And Flowers

Day 194: When I first moved here, I planted Asian Bleeding-heart (Lamprocapnos spectabilis) in a bad location, bad because I often broke the fragile stems when doing yard work. Eventually, the plant succumbed, and when I replaced it, I put the new one in a less trafficked spot where it has done quite well for over a decade, keeping company with maidenhair fern and other shade-lovers. It thrives in moist soil, but it also tolerates the drier conditions late summer brings. Hummingbirds are drawn to it, as are bees and butterflies. "Spectabilis" means "showy," giving rise to another common name for the plant, Showy Bleeding-heart.

Purple Orange Peel

Day 193: After weaving a sample of Orange Peel sett at 20 ends per inch (epi), I was not happy with the proportions of the motifs (too tall, too narrow), so I picked back my work, untied the warp and pulled it out of the 10-dent reed, then changed to one with 15 dents. That's the epi I customarily use for 8/2 overshot, and I should have known to stick with what's always worked for me. Although the motifs still aren't exactly square, I am very pleased with the results. This pattern looks complex, but in fact, it is quite easy to remember, and I don't have to constantly refer to my "cheat sheet" to see what comes next. It is also easy to tell where I left off if I happen to be interrupted, unlike many overshots I've done in the past. This one is destined to be a favourite, and I am already thinking ahead to using it again on a finer scale.

Serviceberry, Amelanchier Alnifolia

Day 192: I had a different photo planned for today's post, but since today is Earth Day, how about a lovely and somewhat early Serviceberry instead? There are more common names for this plant than you can shake a stick at, including Shadbush, Shadblow, Saskatoon, Sarviceberry and Juneberry, and you may have noticed that two of them start with "Shad-," referring to the fact that Amelanchier species bloom around the same time the shad (fish) begin their run in the rivers. It's been a long time since I fished for shad, and the flowering of Serviceberry always makes me nostalgic for those days when my fishing buddy and I would stand on the banks of the Columbia at Bonneville, hauling in fish until our arms ached. That said, shad are bony little buggers, not something you can filet for the table. However, the flesh can be pickled like herring for a delicious snack (the pickling process softens the fine bones), and the roe can be salted to make a "poor-man's caviar." Sigh. What I wouldn't give for a jar of pickled shad right now! But Shadbush berries will have to suffice, even if I do have to wait until June to pick them.

Pack's Calypsos

Day 191: Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest ("Pack Forest," for short) is managed by the University of Washington and is, as you might infer, a testing ground for various sustainable forestry practices. It is also a "multi-use" area, meaning that it is open to hikers, horses and hunters, although motorized vehicles are prohibited. However, Pack is not a "nature area," and is not maintained with visitors or habitat preservation in mind. In fact, it is quite weedy, with numerous invasive species, particularly in logged areas. While there are trails, many of them are overgrown and almost impassable, dirt roads form a network which provide walking access to the far corners. I frequently use a trail going one way, a road going the other, forming a loop so I don't have to retrace my footsteps. Day before yesterday, I hiked up the Reservoir Trail to Kirkland Pass, then out the 1000 Rd. to visit the Calypso Orchids. As I approached their embankment, I was dismayed to see that Pack has been clearing the roadside ditches with an excavator. They narrowly missed the Calypsos! And by "narrowly," I mean that this grouping was less than a foot above the gouge. It would have done no good to stop at the office to report my concern for these delicate plants. I am just glad they grow elsewhere, in places where they are protected.

It's A Quadrillium!

Day 190: The very name "Trillium" tells you that this plant should have three somethingoranothers to distinguish it, but this extraordinary specimen from Pack Forest apparently missed the memo. Four petals, four sepals, four leaves, as perfect as if they always grew this way, caught my eye as I was coming down the 1000 Rd. from Kirkland Pass. I had actually taken a few steps past it before the unusual arrangement registered with me, jerking up short in mid-stride to backtrack with a "What the heck...?" spoken aloud. After taking several photos, I continued on, trying to decide whether it was a Quatrium, Quillium or Quadrillium, settling eventually on the latter cognomen. It will be interesting to pay a follow-up visit next year to see if it repeats the performance.

Ranunculus

Day 189: Since 2014, I have been monitoring a particular location in the Park where my botany partners and I found what was all too obviously someone's cremated remains. Whoever had deposited their relative there had also planted daffodils and other non-native plants in violation of Park regulations. Every year since then, I have removed plants, sometimes bedded in soil, other times simply sunk, plastic pots and all with store tags intact. I thought I had the time frame for these memorial visits figured out, although with Easter and Mother's Day usually occurring near one another, I wasn't quite sure which occasion set the date. This year, Easter fell well in advance of Mother's Day, and sure enough, when I checked the site a few days after, there were two pots of Ranunculus which were quite easy to remove after photographing them in situ to refer to our law enforcement division. On one hand, I'm annoyed that the culprits are not getting the message that their "deposits" are not allowed. On the other, I'm enjoying the spots of colour just outside my kitchen door where the Ranunculus found a new home.

Lamium Purpureum

Day 188: We see weeds almost daily, but how many of us know what they are called? If I said, "Purple Dead-nettle," what image would spring to mind? How about "Henbit?" I have to admit that neither of these rang a bell with me. I simply knew this plant as "Lamium," and prefaced it with a few choice adjectives having nothing to do with its colour. Although it looks like it might sting, it does not, hence the name "dead-nettle." It is related to a more serious invasive, Yellow Archangel (Lamium galeobdolon), but is much easier to control. A shallow root system allows it to be pulled without much effort, although removal should be done before it sets seed to prevent spreading it.

Compare-A-Sparrow

Day 187: Several sparrow species visit my yard over the summer, the most common being White-Crowned (Zonotrichia leucophrys, right). As noted yesterday, Chipping (Spizella passerina) does not appear every year, but Golden-Crowned (Z. atricapilla, left) does. In the course of the thirty-plus years I've lived here, I have observed one English Sparrow (Passer domesticus, non-native and a nuisance) and only a handful of White-Throated (Z. albicollis). However, given that I currently have three of those listed showing up daily at the feeders, and the Birdcast Migration Dashboard says that White-Throated is passing through the county, I have high hopes of seeing one again. Habitat! It's all about providing habitat. When I first moved here, there was very little in the way of shrubbery other than a strip of woods on the far side of the house and a hedge out front. I began planting trees and bushes with a mind to attracting birds. It took ten years or so before they began showing up in number, but I really felt the job was done when the first chickadees settled in. Now, on many days during the summer, I might count two dozen or more different species happily sharing space with one another where food is plentiful.

Chipping Sparrow

Day 186: "Oh, who's the redhead?" I said, standing at the back door with camera in hand in the hopes of snapping a quick picture of the Golden-Crowned Sparrows beneath the feeder. "Is that Chipping?" I don't see Chipping Sparrows (Spizella passerina) every year, and their topknots always take me by surprise. I made note of the eye stripe and other facial features, and headed straight to Sibley to confirm my identification. Then I looked at the "Birdcast Migration Dashboard" for my county, and sure enough, Chipping Sparrows have just begun passing through. Will they stick around long enough to me to count on Global Big Day (May 11)? I hope so!

Orange Peel

Day 185: The names of traditional overshot patterns can be as bewildering as the common names of plants sometimes. For example, this one is called "Orange Peel." I see nothing in it reminiscent of orange peels or even the flowers of an orange tree, but there you have it. Having just finished up the April Weave-Along, I decided I wanted to do some more overshot. It and summer-and-winter weave are my two favourite structures. I found a draft I liked, but realized that the tie-up was different from how I have Max set up, so rather than crawling around under the loom, I redesigned it to suit with weaving software. As I started threading the loom, I said, "Hang on a mo'...I based this on half a motif rather than a full one!" so it was back to the drawing board. I printed out the second one, discovered that I had the tabby threads backwards. Because I'm using the free version of the software, that meant I had to redraw the whole thing again. The third printout had some other problem, as did the fourth, but I did not catch one glaring error I'd left in both of them until I started weaving this sample. I'd omitted the points of the ovals! Sixth time around, I got it right. Now I'm just waiting for the new cone of black to arrive so I can start weaving the real piece.

Claytonia Sibirica

Day 184: It used to be Montia, and it used to be Miner's Lettuce, but as has occurred with so many other things in the world, our perception of this little plant has changed thanks to scientific advances, and now it's Claytonia sibirica or Western Spring Beauty. Honestly, I'm having a hard time keeping up! It is fairly abundant here in the Pacific Northwest, and if you're a hunter-gatherer type, the foliage makes a tangy addition to a garden salad, but caution should be exercised when consuming it because of the presence of oxalic acid in its tissues. Accumulations of oxalic acid can lead to kidney stones. That said, I occasionally nibble a leaf or two, finding them a bit tart and lemony.

Prunus Cerasifera

Day 183: The phrase is, "Familiarity breeds contempt," or to put it another way, "things you see frequently are easy to ignore." My attention was brought to this shrub recently by an inquiry from a friend. I'd never paid it any mind, dismissing it "as one of those flowering things which comes out at this time of year to trigger allergies," and not bothering to investigate any further. However, when put on the spot to give an identification, I realized that I honestly didn't know what it was, and that (to my way of thinking) was unforgiveable. It didn't even take a lot of digging to discover that it was Prunus cerasifera (commonly called "cherry-plum"), a garden escapee with a tendency to become invasive. Then I really started to notice it everywhere, great banks of it, fields of it, spots of it popping from forest edges. The field guides tell me it makes a small, tart fruit which can be made into jam if you can gather enough of them before the birds gobble them down. I don't recall having ever seen it in fruit, but then, I wasn't looking, was I?

Luzula Multiflora, Common Woodrush

Day 182: If I had not been down on my knees in the wet moss looking at something beside it, I would never have noticed that this plant was flowering. From a distance of a foot or less, the star-shaped blossoms looked like nothing more than fuzzy-wuzzy tufts. At something under 5mm from tip to tip, the translucent petals could easily have escaped my notice, and the foliage was grasslike, not something which commands the attention readily. But there I was, my trouser knees soaking up moisture, and...hang on a mo'. Is that a flower? The light was poor and the pictures I took weren't good, but when I got home and started trying to identify the plant, I quickly realized that I was out of my depth. I suspected it of being a sedge of some sort (a complicated group of plants whose devotees call themselves "beak-heads" for the necessity of examining the achenes in order to confirm identification), so I shipped the best of the images off to my two favourite botanists with a call for help. As it turned out, the plant was not a sedge but a rush, Luzula multiflora (Common Woodrush), but despite the "common" in the name, there had been exactly two of them and no more at this particular location. I knew I needed to get better pictures, so made a return trip early the following morning, so early in fact that the flowers had not yet opened. I killed an hour searching for more of them in the area, but they were still not fully open when I looked again. I left, took care of some business in town, then returned and hiked up the hill again. This time, one flower was open on each of two heads. I took almost a hundred photos in the hopes that at least one would be good enough to add to the WTU Herbarium gallery, and wound up with nine worth keeping for personal reference, with three views going to WTU.

Fawn Lily, Erythronium Oregonum

Day 181: In my yard, only the leaves of the Fawn Lilies (Erythronium oregonum) are showing, but on the off chance that they were in bloom at lower elevations, I took a short hike on an obscure trail yesterday. I was delighted to see the usual patch in full bloom, and was even more excited to discover them further along the trail in several places I had not noticed them previously. This raises a question in my mind: why do they not occur in other locations nearby? I have only observed them at this one site, and in a friend's yard where I suspect they were deliberately planted. Even more puzzling is the fact that this particular area has yielded up at least half a dozen plant species I have not observed elsewhere. It is hardly an undisturbed ecology, having been logged at some point in its history. Some combination of soil type, pH, exposure, hydrology and/or other factors make the spot unique. In fact, I stumbled across another new-to-me species yesterday. More on that in a coming post, and after I've taken better photos of it.

Occupied

 

Day 180: A very strong biological imperative must have been at play here, because the House of Chirp already has renters. The first Tree Swallows to arrive acted as if they were already a mated pair, flying together consistently with wingtips almost touching. They perched on the phone wires together, and both showed interest in the "apartment." I saw the female at the door several times, but did not observe her carrying nesting material, however within a week of the time I had seen the birds initially, she had moved inside and was establishing housekeeping. It is hard to tell the male from his partner unless the light is perfect, but I believe he has been helping with the moving-in. Tachycineta bicolor typically lays a clutch of 4-6 white eggs and incubates them for roughly 13-16 days from the time the last one is laid. Young will leave the nest 16-24 days from hatching. Although not common, sometimes the pair will produce a second brood in a season.

April Snowflakes

Day 179: Whatever the weather, Snowflakes are a regular April occurrence in my garden. Leucojum resembles Snowdrops (Galanthus) on steroids: taller, and with larger flowers. In my experience, they don't multiply as readily and come into bloom roughly a month later here in the Pacific Northwest, but still qualify as an early-season flower alongside tulips, daffodils and hyacinths. Mine grow in the same pot as my Fritillary Lilies, providing an interesting visual contrast of white to the checkerboard purple of the Fritillarias. They are easy to grow, if not quite "plant them and forget them" like daffodils. The bulbs have a tendency to bury themselves and need to be brought nearer the soil surface every few years for optimum display.

Red-Breasted Sapsucker

Day 178: You have to wonder how this bird got its common name, because although its head is red and the colour continues on the throat, it only extends a small distance down the breast. Why then is this a Red-Breasted Sapsucker? Sphyrapicus ruber is a woodpecker found only in the western part of the US, but occurs along the west coast from the Alaskan border through California and marginally into Nevada. They feed on sap and the insects drawn to it, drilling in a wide variety of native trees including Doug-fir. Mine seems particularly attracted to my Sitka Mountain-ash, as is evidenced by the neat lines of  'pecker holes in the bark. In fact, one particularly diligent bird topped my tallest Sorbus, and although I appreciated the help (it was too tall for me to manage), it was not work I had contracted and came as a bit of a surprise one morning when I looked out and saw a ten-foot length of the main trunk across my driveway. The break point had been holed to such an extent that it snapped under its own weight. Later, I discovered that the bird had apparently been drawn by ash-borers, and was not simply performing pruning duties but was in fact ridding my garden of a nasty pest. Thanks, Sappy!

Hummingbird Feeder

Day 177: The early-season hummingbird feeder is in bloom, attracting both Rufous and Anna's to its panicles of hot-pink flowers. They were drawn to my two bushes even before the buds had opened, hopeful of a sip of nectar as they probed the petals with their beaks. Although I keep glass feeders out year-'round (the Anna's hummers are here all winter), when the Red-flowering Currant (Ribes sanguineum) is in bloom, the kitchen-brewed syrup is largely ignored. This shrub is native to the area, and produces a less-than-palatable dusty blue-grey fruit which goes untouched by any of my resident birds. I'm sure some critter must eat the berries, but I don't know who.

Viola Glabella

Day 176: Viola glabella. Now there's a contradiction of terms! Translated from their Latin origins, the two parts of the name mean "yellow" and "violet" as in the colours, but then the Romans never made it to the Pacific Northwest where the majority of our "violets" are indeed yellow. One assumes those in Italy at the time were of a pale purple hue. But you've heard me rant on this subject before. Instead, let's just enjoy this sunny little harbinger of spring whose yellow faces we find smiling in the moist, shady nooks of our forests and gardens, cheerful even in the rain.

Secret Falls

Day 175: "Secret Falls" is the name I gave it. On the map, it doesn't have one, and that's understandable because it's only about a yard wide and maybe 15' tall. I made its acquaintance some years ago while snowshoeing up Westside Road when the road was gated for winter. I could hear water flowing, and yes, there was a trickle flowing through a culvert beneath the road, but only a tiny wink of the falls was visible although it was only about fifty feet from me. Curious, I made my way into the forest and around a slight bend, and there it was, its cascade concealed by the angle of the cleft in the rock. These days, it gives me a goal to achieve when I want a short hike as I did on a warm day recently. Secret Falls was there waiting for me, as always.

Fritillary

Day 174: Last fall, I cleaned out the huge flower pot which holds the Fritillary Lilies and Snowflakes, replanting the bulbs in fresh soil and closer to the surface. This really needs to be done every few years, but I have been horribly remiss, with fewer blooms emerging than might have if I had been more diligent. This year, I'm reaping rewards for my small labour. The Fritillaries began opening a few days ago during the warm weather, and there are numerous buds yet to come. Fritillaria meleagris may be known to you as "Chocolate Lily" or "Checkered Lily," and is a close cousin to our native Fritillaria affinis, also called by both common names. The native plant has a less-than-pleasant scent which I have not noticed in the garden variety. A family of butterflies also goes by the name of Fritillary and is also checkered in appearance, a bit of trivia which sent me straight to the dictionary to find out the origin of the word. "Fritillus" in Latin refers to a dice-cup (checkered, one would presume) or a checkerboard; to be strictly accurate, mind you, it does not refer to a chessboard, because chess was unknown to the Romans.

Tragedy And Comedy Rock

Day 173: I love this old guy! He sits about a mile up the Westside Road, and has revealed many facets of his character in the numerous times I've walked past him. Yesterday was no exception. As I was headed north, he seemed to be in a rather grouchy mood, scowling and dour, but on the return southbound, I found him happy and smiling. "Tragedy and Comedy," I thought, "carved in stone." Or could that be a cat face? In the past, when the ferns of his toupee were more lush, I've seen him as a Raven, a guide for those who walk the path, but try as I might, I could not find the Raven in his profile yesterday, so strongly had this new personality emerged. You never know who you may run into in the woods.

Dizzybats!

Day 172: If this doesn't drive you dizzybats, you probably need better glasses! I am now up to the "fun" section of the undulating twill project for the April Weave-Along, "fun" because it is an optic white weft against black and dark grey warp. It so befuddled my eyes that I took to installing a little piece of yellow slicky-cord (nylon cord) at the start of each section so I could tell where one left off and the next began. Without it, my squares weren't turning out uniformly square. The single-throw motifs want to be longer than their heavier, double-throw counterparts, so I am having to pay careful attention to how firmly I beat the threads into place.

Out Of My Mind

Day 171: I must be out of my mind! Not only is this thread finer than anything I have ever spun before, it is also the slipperiest. It is bamboo, which is to say it's rayon under a more romantic name, and I've used this same fiber to blend with wool before, but had never spun it by itself. Bronka just finished up two ounces of luscious, creamy Corriedale wool spun at a lace weight, and as I was scouting the cedar chest for a new spinning project, the bamboo caught my eye. "Well, let's try it," I said, fully expecting it to be so slick that I couldn't control the feed. But it surprised me, and so did Bronka. I was able to set the tension such that sufficient twist came into the fibers without pulling too much from my fingers, and an extra-fine, shiny thread began winding onto the bobbin. Here, I show it bent back on itself to demonstrate how it will look when it's make into two-ply. It's going to take a long time for me to spin even a one-ounce skein, but I am loving the feel and the way it works up.