Natural Art

Day 65: As a scientist, I am always picking things up to get a closer look, maybe using a magnifier, sometimes even nicking a small sample for examination under the microscope. However, that doesn't mean that I can't appreciate natural art when I find it. While most of Mother Nature's handiwork seems rather random to the human aesthetic sense, occasionally she elects to bridge the gap with something more to our tastes: balanced arrangements, colours which compliment one another, mixtures of visually appealing textures, etc. Admittedly, sometimes the line between science and art is blurry, and in those cases, I nearly always allow the right brain its moment of appreciation before permitting my analytical tendencies to dominate. In this particular instance, I'd been looking closely at a specimen of fungus, but when I raised my head and noticed this fragment of lichen (Evernia prunastri) perfectly laid out on a bed of decaying cottonwood leaves, science took a back seat. Its dichotomously branched lobes were artfully displayed, as if to illustrate the definition of the term on its page in the living encyclopedia of the forest.

Evernia Prunastri And Usnea Scabrata

Day 365: I often refer to lichens as the "wildflowers of winter," in part because that's when many of them form their fruiting bodies, but largely because that's when they're at their best. Even after a hot, dry summer, a little rain and a few humid days is all it takes to restore them to their former vigour. Some, like Evernia prunastri (foreground) and Usnea scabrata (behind it and in the background) will be so stiff and crisp at the end of the summer season that they crackle underfoot, but soon return to a pliable, sometimes even limp state once they have absorbed sufficient moisture. As with these three here (a Parmelia is just barely visible left of the yellow leaf), mixed species often share the same substrate, everyone getting along famously, no one competing for dominance. I'll leave you with that thought as Year 9 of this blog closes. Don't worry. I'll be back.

Snow For Christmas

Day 72: Random musings, here. I am staying home for Christmas this year, fixing myself a turkey and stuffing, snuggling down with the cats, sharing gift-giving with my sisters-of-the-heart, and in a way, it feels more "Christmas-y" than it's felt in years. This sense is augmented by the fact that there is snow on the ground and more falling at this very moment, maybe not a Currier and Ives scene yet, but at least Bing Crosby wouldn't be disappointed. I think I'm "lichen" being home alone, watching the little birds flit in and out of the feeders, listening to their happy chatter. I'm warm, there are bright lights on the tree, and the spirit of Love announced itself with a firm bite on the back of my arm to let me know I should put aside the quilting to provide Skunk with access to a comfortable lap. She's an old lady. It takes her ten minutes to figure out how to arrange her bones. Maybe I took a lesson from her: find a soft spot and make the most of it. Cats are wise people, wiser far than humans.

Admirable Lichens

Day 49: As I despair of futures (those of my country, the globe and my own), I find some small comfort in setting a course by the compass of John Muir's words: "I only went out for a walk, and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in." On the trail, my mind shuts off all conscious thoughts of anything but what is before my eyes and I exist only as a part of the nature surrounding me. I am "home" in a sense that no four walls can convey, however cozy. The atmosphere of soft colours and filtered light dispels the garish glare of frets and worries, the whisper of wind navigating through bare autumn branches drowns out the ugly voices of news and politics. My passage through the environment disturbs nothing more than is absolutely necessary. Time passes, but the metronome beat of the clock is meaningless. Here in truth, I am cousin to the lichens, sister to the stone, grounded and apart from the artificial reality with which we have surrounded ourselves. I find peace in the forest, among my kin.

But I cannot walk in the woods forever, as much as I would like to do. At some point, I must return to the grievously misnamed arena we call "civilization," and face again the horrors of bigotry, hate, environmental insensitivity and greed as fostered by that grand bastard, Donald Trump and his minions. Despair again takes my hand and says, "Come walk with me."

Namesake Lichen

Day 78: Meet Evernia prunastri, namesake for the Christmas Faerie featured in yesterday's post. This exquisite lichen is notable for its soft, supple thallus, very pliable to the touch yet able to retain its graceful form without appearing limp. Its flexibility separates it from the Ramalinas when observed in the field. It is largely a West-coast species although a few have been catalogued from East-coast locations. Known also as "oak-moss," this lichen is used commercially in Europe as a fixative for perfumes. Its relative scarcity in the United States prevents its exploitation by the industry for reasons of cost-effectiveness.

Separating The Sheep From The Goats

Day 105: While it's actually quite easy to distinguish Evernia prunastri (top) from Hypogymnia inactiva (bottom) using only field characteristics, many lichens require reagent testing to achieve an accurate identification. Since some of the reagents commonly used have a shelf life of mere minutes, the amateur lichenologist is at something of a disadvantage. We often resort to placing "sp." ("species") at the end of the scientific name (as in "Hypogymnia sp.") when we are unable to test our specimens or narrow an identification down by location or substrate. That's "close enough for government work" when you don't have laboratory faciilities available.