C For Ceiling

Day 158: "C for ceiling, G for ground." That's the mnemonic my mother taught me to help me remember where the base of a stala-C-tite or a stala-G-mite was rooted. There are variations to this simple memory aid, but it's surprising the number of people who refer to either formation as a "stalactite" regardless of its roots.

The Longmire ice stalactites have fallen thick and fast under this recent spell of summery weather. The roof "glacier" has retreated into non-existence from the Administration Building porch and the deadly sharp icicles have dropped from the eaves to collect in piles of brittle jackstraws at the foundation. I haven't heard any reports of visitors being impaled, but the obliviously curious may just have been the lucky sort.

It's a little weird here at home, stepping out the back door into 70 degrees to find snow still lingering in the shady spots of the yard. Up against the woods, it's still several inches deep, confusing the current invasion by Robins who expected to find bugs in the freshly turned soil of spring molehills. That said, it won't last long. Next up is a round of rain, something we hope is confined to the lowlands lest it inspires a flood of melt from the masses of snow in the high country.

Baby Kidneys

Day 188: I don't know which was the bigger thrill yesterday, discovering that the Booger Tree had sprouted fresh boogers or finding teeny-tiny baby Kidneys nestled in the moss on a downed branch. This is another location I check when I walk to or from the Community Building. I now have a "landmark tree" which tells me exactly which pile of fallen twigs to investigate. I'm sure these must be offspring from the colony I found here several years ago. Since attending the lichen conference, I knew to look for "pimples" on the back side. There were none, which confirms my original identification of Nephroma helveticum.

Anatomically Correct

Day 84: According to at least one source, specimens of this crustose lichen taken from locations in the Cascades and other inland areas have probably been misidentified as Mycoblastus affinis because they lacked the characteristic pigmentation apparent in Mycoblastus sanguinarius which gives it the common name of "Bloody Heart." It has been suggested that the lack of red pigment is typical of inland examples and indeed, I've sectioned several hundred of them with my thumbnail and have only found it in a few cases. The tiny (1-2 mm.) black apothecia erupt from a nearly-white crustose thallus and are quite common in the Pacific Northwest's conifer forests. This one was anatomically correct.

Longmire's Lonesome Boulder

Day 37: I don't think it takes too much imagination to see the glum face this boulder presents, but I have never yet seen anyone stop to give him a kindly word (other than me, of course). They walk or drive past, intent on getting to a meeting or luncheon at the Community Building or to set off on a hike to Eagle Peak, but never spare so much as a nod in his direction. Perhaps years of being ignored have soured his disposition; sitting there all lorn and lonesome, watching the river gallop along to exciting places and seeing humans come and go. I am an animist. I cannot ignore his plight, although my best efforts have not cheered him up one whit. Perpetual bad mood or not, he has one friend who enjoys seeing him.