Archway

Day 206: "Arch!" No, I'm not in the holodeck on the Enterprise NCC-1701D. I'm in Pack Forest, and I'm ducking under an arch of Vine Maple (Acer circinatum), one of many which curve over the trails. This small-leaved species is common in Pacific Northwest lowland forests, and is more of a shrub than a tree, although a very leggy one. Its branches are very bendy when fresh, and were used by native peoples to make baskets similar to those made with willow withies. When it arches like the example in the photo, it may self-layer where the tip touches the ground to form a new cluster of trunks still connected to the parent tree. Like other maples, it produces samaras, winged "helicopter" seeds which animals and birds both enjoy. Its hardwood trunks seldom attain a diameter of more than a few inches, although roots may be larger. In fact, I have a lathe-turned vase of Vine Maple made by a former neighbour which is 8" tall and 4" in diameter.

Socktober

Day 353: It...Sock...Tober. The first snow dusted Elbe Hills last week, and if I'd gone out an hour earlier this morning, I might have found a few patches of frost in the colder parts of the yard. The cucumber vine blackened, having given me precisely one cucumber, and the leaves on the mulberry (ever fruitless) are beginning to look rather limp. While the garden is in its throes, the vine maples are celebrating. Although I can't quite label this a "Red Year," they're coming close. Multiple conditions determine whether Acer circinatum turns red, orange or yellow, or whether it goes straight to brown, and the formula is too complex for mere humans to figure out. I'd call this year "mahogany." There's enough red in it to satisfy any leaf-peeper's soul even though it's not as fiery as it sometimes is. But it is definitely Socktober. My toes can attest to that.

Fall Colour, PNW Style

Day 5: While the Pacific Northwest can't compete with the showy colours autumn brings to the eastern part of the US, we do have our specialties, one of which is Vine Maple (Acer circinatum). This species of small-leaved maple is rather variable in its response to climate conditions, and its displays appear to be affected by some magical formula which includes temperature, water availability, number of cloudy days and perhaps whether or not the full moon occurred on a Tuesday in July. Whatever it is, I have not been able to deduce the complex sequence of events which sometimes results in a "Red Year" as opposed to a brown one. Red Years can be spectacular. The present season is less than optimum, although this view, directly behind my mailbox, lights up even the darkest days of grey October gloom.

October Wow

Day 358: Wow! "Mount Wow," that is. The name was derived from a native-language word meaning "mountain goat," and applies to a massif on the western boundary of the Park which is prime goat habitat. Foreshortened here by my proximity to the trees, Mount Wow rises abruptly to 5921' from the Westside Road and has been the source of many damaging rockfalls. The constant scouring of its slopes by rock and avalanche keeps vegetation at a minimum with the exception of dense groves of pioneering vine maple (Acer circinatum). If Mount Wow's towering face wasn't enough to make you say "Wow!" then the maples in a "red year" such as this certainly would.

"Red years" only occur when certain climatological criteria are met, and what those criteria are remains a mystery to me. Prolonged dryness is one factor, but by itself, it is not enough to trigger a red year. Sometimes after a summer drought, I have seen these trees go from sickly yellow directly to dead brown. On other occasions, they transition through a feeble pink without ever achieving their full red potential. Nor is it cyclic, although glorious, full-blown red years occur roughly one in five. This year, the slopes of Mount Wow are aflame with maple fire, a delight for the eyes even in the absence of goats.