Now Them's Popovers!

Day 282: A couple of days ago, I received a surprise box from one of my sisters-of-the-heart, shipped directly from Stonewall Kitchen in York, Maine. Of course, no gift from Stonewall Kitchen is complete unless it includes a package of their famous popover mix, but since I'm trying to lose a little weight, I put it in the cupboard for later. Well, my will power failed, and yesterday, I made popovers. And man, did they pop over! I suspect my popover pan is meant to make medium-sized ones, but I managed to get all the batter into its twelve compartments anyway. I've used the combination of the Stonewall mix and this pan before, but I don't recall them ever leaping quite so high! Them's some tall popovers! Thank you, Patty!

Bee Hopeful

Day 281: I have good reason to "bee hopeful" that my milkweed plants will produce seed pods this year. They are absolutely covered with a large assortment of insects...stinging insects, mind you!...who visit one flower after another. Bees dominate the mix, but there are wasps of every size from miniscule to man-eating, so I stood well back and zoomed in for the photo. Can I identify them? No, although I think I can safely say that these two are honeybees, a species to which I am deadly allergic. Was I worried that I would get stung? Not at all, because they were firmly focused on the work at hand, gathering nectar from the sweet-scented flowers. Surely sombody's going to get pollinia caught on a leg!

Crocosmia Lucifer

Day 280: (Non sequitur: I love Bread Day! It finally cooled off enough that I felt like I could turn on the oven.) (Sidebar: that's not really a non sequitur because it doesn't follow anything, i.e., it's not SEQential. Wait, where was I going with this discussion?) Oh! Crocosmia "Lucifer!" (Hang on, I've got everything out of order here. The following sentence would be a "pre-sequitur" if any such word existed, but it doesn't.) It's cooled off! After almost a week of daytime highs in the upper 80s and low 90s, I was finally able to get out on my exercise bike again this morning, and in that amount of time, Crocosmia "Lucifer" had opened up and was fairly glowing in the early morning sun. Yes, I am fully aware that Crocosmia will take over your garden if you give it the opportunity, so I've relocated mine to several spots where it's welcome to spread. I'd love to get it started along the fence line where it would annoy my neighbours, but so far, I haven't been able to get it to "take," which is peculiar, given its aggressive nature. Nor have I had much luck with an orange-flowered variety which my botany partners gave me, possibly due to the fact that where I planted it is rather shady. Even so, Lucifer's bright red "dragons" perk up my yard quite nicely. (Boy, does that bread smell good!)

A Brilliant Invention

Day 279: I'd like to give a shout out to the unsung hero who invented the fringe twister. According to Google's AI, tools for twisting fringe date back to ancient China, and the modern versions (of which there are several different designs with varying numbers of clips) cannot be attributed to any one person. Okay, that will have to satisfy me, and suffice to say that in my opinion, this is the greatest thing since sliced bread. No, wait...that idiom doesn't apply in my case since I make my own. That said, of all the gadgets I own, this one gets five stars, an A-plus in the categories of Clever, Functional and Time-Saving. I already have one end of the shawl done, and that's 128 little twisted fringes. If I was doing this with the "lick your fingers, roll one group 20 times, lick your fingers, roll the second group 20 times" method, I'd be here until Christmas. Even so, it's a lengthy process, and not one you'd sit down and complete all in one go.

A Proud McLeod

Day 278: My mother would be proud of me. I just took my McLeod of Lewis tartan shawl off the loom. This was a "bucket list" project for me: my family tartan made with authentic tartan wool (16/2) from Scotland. The fringe still needs twisting, and that will take a few days, what with 1024 threads to twist on each end in groups of eight (at least I think that's how I want to do it), but I have already filled out the paperwork to put this one in the Washington State Fair. It measures 32" wide by 78" long, and if I decide to wet-finish and waulk it, there will be some small amount of shrinkage. That said, I don't plan to do either. I have enough left to make a long scarf if I use the thrums as warp and the remainder on the cones for weft, but that will be a project for another time.

Zanshiori, Round Two

Day 277: Sometimes an idea works out better than imagined. When I first decided to use thrums to create zanshiori (what I call "something from nothing" projects), I expected to use the finished project to make purely functional and probably not particularly attractive bags. My Scottish genetics won't allow me to throw thrums away unless they're under a foot long, and the gallon jar I keep them in was getting pretty full. I used my 16" rigid heddle loom (12.5 dent) with a natural-coloured warp for the first batch, and liked the effect, although I didn't think it was the best use of the colours. "Maybe they'd be more dramatic if I used a dark warp," I thought, and I pulled out a cocoa-brown cone for the purpose. As before, I doubled the warp threads, but only a single thread for the weft. I am so happy with the way this turned out that I am not going to turn it into bags, no. I'm going to use it as a runner. This piece measures 48" x 11". And as a footnote, I'm still less than halfway through my stash of thrums.

Resigned To It

Day 276: Ideally, you start them off with the concept while they're kittens. You introduce them to it by first putting a little warm water in the sink, and then add the cat. Don't force the issue, and do not make eye contact (closing your eyes is even better). Eye contact is perceived as a threat. Speak softly (even if you're being eaten alive!). Only leave them in the shallow water for a minute or two before drying their paws and letting them go. The next time you're feeling brave, make the water a little deeper and the encounter a little longer. Follow the same procedure: no eye contact, speaking softly. Over the next few months or a year, work your way up to using shampoo and the sprayer for rinsing. Eventually, you will be rewarded with a cat who actually enjoys having a thorough ten-minute bath as Merry did this morning. No fuss, no scratching, no biting, no plaintive meowing...just a nice, warm wash with kitty shampoo and getting dried off with fluffy towels. Tropicana Cat Wash has another satisfied customer!

Harvesting Jellybeans

Day 275: I braved 94-degree heat to bring in my first harvest of jellybeans for this year. "Jellybean" is a miniature blueberry variety, miniature only insofar as the size of the bush is concerned. The berries are on the large end of the scale, and this year, I have a bumper crop. The first picking yielded a little more than a cup which got dashed with a little sugar and gobbled for dessert. I could have put them in the freezer to save until I had enough for a batch of muffins, but the temptation was too great. They are so juicy and sweet! I also brought in another two cups of gooseberries, which almost cleaned the bushes. I usually leave the smallest gooseberries for the juncoes. They love them, and since they were kind enough not to pick off all the blueberry flowers to get the nectar this year, I think they deserve a reward.

Deptford Pinks

Day 274: Deptford Pinks (Dianthus armeria) get a bad rap. Many sources refer to them as "invasive," although it is certainly not as aggressive as knapweed or butterfly bush or any of a number of others which are capable of establishing monocultures at the expense of native plants. In fact, the Deptford Pinks which came to me in a wildflower mix (yes, really) grow very sparingly in the Barren Wasteland between my house and garage. I probably shouldn't admit to this, but I have tried to encourage them in that space, however, they have not been particularly cooperative, unlike the Rudbeckia which would gleefully take over my entire yard if I didn't keep it under control. That said, this is the problem with many of the region-specific wildflower mixes offered by seed companies: they contain non-native species which may even be on an individual state's invasives list. California Poppies are a case in point. Almost all wildflower mixes tagged "Pacific Northwest" contain California Poppies which are considered invasive in Washington. As for Deptford Pinks, mine came to me in a generic seed packet offered as a bonus for purchasing some other product, and the packet also included California Poppies which I've successfully rooted out. The Pinks? They're behaving themselves, so they can stay.

Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle, Harmonia Axyridis

Day 273: "Something is eating my pussywillow!" Closer investigation gave me the creepin' wim-wams. There were fearsome-looking larvae on several of the leaves, black with orange spots and forked spines, the kind of thing that'd give you a heart attack if you found it walking on your arm. But what were they? I skipped right over the section on ladybugs in my insect books, certain that I'd find it or something related to it on a different page. When that failed, I followed the next reasonable path: I submitted a photo to BugGuide.net, and within 24 hours, one of their experts had identified it as Harmonia axyridis, commonly known as the Multicolored Asian Lady Beetle. It was a "ladybug" after all. This morning, larvae (inset) and pupae (upper) were present on the tree.

BugGuide advises that "very few people encountering one (of the larvae) for the first time would recognize it as a 'young ladybug.' It grows to be larger than the eventual adult size." Harmonia axyridis was brought to the US from Asia as a control for aphids, and was introduced in Washington between 1978-1982. According to BugGuide, the adults are highly variable in colour with spots varying from absent to as many as 18 (no help there!). They also mention that they (presumably larvae and adults) will take "exploratory bites" if handled, and I can personally attest to that as far as the adults are concerned. Shortly after I moved here, I found my shower infested with them one morning, and as I was capturing them for release outdoors, I got nipped. Although I had no idea what they were at the time, I realized in that moment that this was no ordinary ladybug keeping me from my ablutions. And now that I know what they look like when they're babies, I'll give them wider berth.

Milkweed Reproduction

Day 272: The first phase of this project consisted of learning to identify the reproductive structures of Asclepias syriaca, Common Milkweed. You'd think that milkweeds kept the family jewels in the same place as other plants do, but as it turns out, the flower is rather different in that it centers on a gynostegium (new word for me!), which is comprised of fused stigmas and stamens. What lay people would call the "flower" (the white part, in this case) is the corona. It consists of hoods and horns (five each). The petals of the flower depend beneath it. Between hoods, a careful observer will note a swollen brownish bump at the inner end of the stigmatic slit (see center image). This is the corpusculum. It is essentially the "bear trap" in which an insect's leg can become ensnared. Attached to the corpusculum are two pollinia, sticky agglomerations of pollen. In the instance of A. syriaca (or at least those in my garden), the corpusculum and attached pollinia measured something in the neighbourhood of half a millimeter long. I was able to tease two "units" out using the microscope and a dissecting needle, but once on the tray, I could barely see them with my naked eye. Nevertheless, "sticky" was the operative word. They gummed themselves to the tip of the dissecting needle nicely, and I was able to transport them to the garden. As to whether or not I successfully poked them into the stigmatic slit of a second plant remains to be seen. I had no way to magnify the flower while keeping both hands free to perform the cross-pollination. There was an unexpected bonus to this experiment: I discovered that milkweed is deliciously fragrant as I stood there with my beak in the blossom, pretending I was a bug.

Milkweed in Flower

Day 271: The milkweed is blooming! The plants bore only a few flowers last year, and while I had hoped that an appropriate pollinator would stop by, no pods ever developed. There will be more opportunity this year, though, because there are many more flowers on plants in two patches. Surely some innocent bug will get a leg trapped long enough to pick up some pollinia. That's how milkweed works. Pollen transfer occurs in sticky packets, not dry grains. A bug's leg gets caught inside a slit in the stigma, wiggles around as the insect tries to free itself, and the sticky pollen packets (which generally occur in pairs) get tangled in the hairs on its leg. The insect then visits another milkweed flower, makes a similar mis-step, gets trapped again, and in its efforts to free itself, the pollinia comes off inside the stigma of the second plant. And it has to be a different plant. Milkweed is not self-fertile. Sidebar: I have seen a video of a botanist attempting to cross-pollinate a rare milkweed. Gives me ideas, that, and I'm sure by now, you know that I enjoy botanical match-making. Anybody thinking there might be an experiment on the horizon? Worth a try, but I might not be able to tell who was the responsible party, me or a bug. Not exactly a controlled experiment, but if I get milkweed pods, I'd be happy. Tweezers...where'd I put the dissecting tweezers?

Antique Chinese Teapot

Day 270: I believe this antique teapot is Chinese, although I have not been able to find anything similar on line. It was in my first husband's possession when I met him, and I have good reason to doubt that the story he told me about how he came by it is false. The man couldn't have told the truth if you'd asked him what he had for breakfast! I suspect it dates to the early or mid-1800s, or possibly earlier, and I would love to know more about it. The lid has always been missing. Each of the six side panels is different. One (top left) has an enormous fly near the top. The others have detail which is in light relief. Three panels include a Phoenix. The top is decorated with a dragon. The maker's mark on the bottom is legible, but since I don't read Chinese, I can't tell which way up it goes. I've never had it appraised since my connection with the world of antiques goes only so far as having been taken badly by someone who knew the value of a vase I had out at a yard sale, so I am rather reluctant to put it in anyone's hands.

Gooseberry Season

Day 269: Cherries weren't the only thing on my picking agenda day before yesterday. The gooseberries are ripening! Now let me tell you: picking gooseberries is a dangerous endeavour. The bushes are very thorny, especially on the older canes. I'd pruned out a lot of the old canes last year which made it a little easier, but it also meant I'd probably only get enough gooseberries for one batch of jam. Indeed, that's what has occurred, but the trade-off for one year is worth it to save some of my skin. Gooseberries are also a bit of a pain to process for turning into jam. Each berry has to be topped (the stem end cut off) and tailed (the blossom end removed). I prefer to cut each one in half before putting them in a container to freeze. That way, they're ready to go when cooler weather arrives and I feel like making jam. Oh, I could make jelly from them as well,, thereby saving the work of topping and tailing, but I love having bits of gooseberry in my toast spread. Why go to all this work when I could make some other kind of jam? Because gooseberry jam is my absolute most favourite! A little tart, a little sweet...perfect on homemade sourdough bread.

Pitty Party

Day 268: The property behind me has several large cherry trees on it which I believe are a hybrid of one of our native varieties and Montmorency, the "pie cherry" of old. The fruits are smaller than those of Montmorency, so small in fact that they drop clean through my cherry pitter, but whatever they may lack in size, the flavour is certainly that of a pie cherry (as opposed to a bitter cherry or a sweet cherry). The trees are heavily laden with fruit, but I know better than to trespass back there. Although the property is unoccupied, my other neighbour watches it like a hawk and is not kindly disposed toward me for political differences. However, there is one long branch which extends over the fence, and usually supplies me with enough fruit to freeze for one mid-winter pie. I picked a bowlful this morning and settled in at the kitchen table for a "pitty party," scoring each of 500 or more tiny cherries with my thumbnail so I could extract the pit. That pie is sure going to taste good in December or January!

Trust

Day 267: And then there's this. The feeling I get when a wild bird places its trust in me is indescribable. I know I am privileged to have experienced it even once, but it repeats, and not with just one species. Chickadees can be coerced into taking food from a hand. Canada Jays ("Grey Jays") will land on your head if you're having a snack on the trail. There are some wild species who are more accepting of humans than others, but if you asked any birder or ornithologist, Evening Grosbeaks would not be on their list. Pine Siskins might be, but Purple Finches would not, and there's one female who watches very carefully from nearby when my little Grosbeak friend is having lunch: "If he can do it, maybe I could, too!" I can tell she's giving the idea serious consideration. As for the Grosbeak, he is completely comfortable. He didn't even mind that I had forgotten to turn off the flash on the little silver point-and-shoot I used to take these photos. And this is how I want my friends to remember me, if for nothing else: the woman who held birds.

A Friend of a Friend

Day 266: These are Rob's photos from a couple of days ago. Some of you may have already seen them on Facebook, but since I had not yet blogged them, and since there are updates, they are my choice for today's post.

Y'see, a couple of decades ago, I rehabbed an Evening Grosbeak with a broken wing. He was in my care for a month before I returned him to the wild. I dubbed him Friend (some of you may know where to find "Friend's Story" as an adjunct to 365Caws). After his release, he returned to visit me throughout the season and, I firmly believe, the following two or three years. Since then, I have always wondered if he somehow related the circumstances of our relationship to his offspring, because almost every year, there is at least one Grosbeak who shows no fear of me. That said, the closest I had ever gotten to any of them was when Follower tagged along behind me as I went out to the garage, and I had to shoo him gently out.

That's the backstory. This little feller had already eaten out of my hand while sitting on the bird feeder, but I wasn't expecting him to get ON the hand, and especially not in front of company. It's enormously difficult to document these events, and people tend not to believe you unless they have witnessed it. But there you have it: bird in the hand, worth way more than two in the bush! Today brought another surprise. When I went out to fill the feeders, my little pal hopped onto my forearm, walked down it, took a seed from my palm and then settled in on the edge of the feeder while eating from the handful I was holding. I think I've made a friend for life...a friend, perhaps, of Friend.

Marsh Violet, Viola Palustris

Day 265: Violas are notoriously difficult to tell apart, but when I'm in the general area where Viola pluviae is known to occur, I get excited by every pale lavender member of the genus I observe. Alas, after noting several features and checking them against the description when I got home, I am sorry to say that this didn't turn out to be what I'd hoped it to be. It's good ol' Marsh Violet, Viola palustris. I have yet to find V. pluviae. Despite my disappointment, these are still a lovely little alpine species, with one or more of the three bottom petals daintily inscribed with "bee guides" in darker purple.

Taxonomy

Day 264 (bonus): This was sent to me by a friend who obviously understands my dilemma.
It's sung to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic:

Mine eyes have seen the splitting of the genus I adore,
It’s been slyly subdivided into families galore,
And with every publication comes another genus more.
The names go rolling on!

Hemstitching a Tube

Day 264: If anyone knows how to hemstitch a tube or double-wide cloth on the loom, I would appreciate a detailed description of the procedure. I always hemstitch both ends of my pieces, and it's a right pain when the fabric is not under tension (i.e., off the loom). To hemstitch on the loom if you're using a floor loom, there seems to be no way to do the bottom layer at the beginning unless you want to lay on your back underneath the fabric. In this case, I'm working on a rigid heddle, so I flipped the loom over. Even so, it was awkward working in amongst the brace pieces. This is a "stash-busting" project. I'm trying to use up some 3/2 cotton I was sent by mistake. It's substantially heavier than anything I would normally weave, so I'm making seamless bags with it.

Pilophorus Acicularis

Day 263: Anyone who comes to visit me should know to expect at least a few botany lessons, so when Rob, Mike and I went up to Longmire, I just had to introduce them to Pilophorus acicularis, aka "Devil's Matchstick Lichen." It's one of my favourites. A "pioneer" lichen, it is one of the first to colonize the surfaces of freshly broken rock, although the definition of "freshly broken" can extend twenty years or so into the past. This particular specimen is on the road cut just south of the wooden bridge between Longmire proper and the volunteer campground. The bridge is currently in need of repair, and Rob and Mike checked it over thoroughly, studying the architecture and welds while I worked my way along the ditch trying to remember exactly which bump of rock held my pet Pilophorus. When I finally found it, I called Rob over to show it to him. Pffft! I don't think he was sufficiently impressed! But then, National Parks hold different attractions for people with a wide variety of interests, don't they?

Rob's Quilt

Day 262: I figured I'd already spoiled the surprise before they left New Zealand. I mean, you can't ask questions like, "How much room are you going to have in your luggage when you leave my place? Will you have space for something about the size of a briefcase?" without someone getting suspicious. I think Rob knew this hexagon quilt was going back with him before he got here. I was ready to suggest wrapping themselves up in it on the plane (after all, it's winter in New Zealand), but they managed to fold it to fit inside a wheeled suitcase. And like I told him, this is his combined birthday/Christmas gift this year, 'cuz I sure as heck wasn't going to mail it!