Tranquil Ohop Creek

Day 348: Ohop Creek declines gently through pasture and land conservancy, chuckles at a bed of over-ambitious rocks which seek to impede its flow through a state park, whispers its life-filled song amid native plants and invasives alike, healthier now thanks to the intervention of a handful of humans who care for much of its reach. It remembers its origins, mindful of its history as salmon habitat, is grateful for the return of a few wild fish to its bed. And yet it does not know where it is going, does not know what lies around its next and last bend. There, it will be caught up in the dynamics of the ebullient Nisqually to be swept away and borne out to sea like a press-ganged sailor, thence to mingle with the sea until its freshness is lost and unrecognizable in the greater waters. Its destiny is written and unchangeable, and yet it is oblivious to it and its imminence as here, in this place and moment, it reflects on its past.

Cladonia Squamosa

Day 25: Squamous...that was what caught my eye: the sheer squamosity (and yes, that's a legitimate word) of this particular Cladonia. Oh, you're thinking I should define that in layman's terms. How about "scaly?" The squamules are the little leafy green bits and in Cladonias, and are usually found at the base with one or two notable exceptions. In those exceptions, they aren't distributed in a manner which allows the patchiness of cortex (skin) over medulla (inner portion) to be easily observed. Examination under a 40x hand lens revealed a few teeny-tiny brown apothecia (fruiting bodies) at the tips. Cladonia squamosa prefers the moist forests of the mid- and lowland areas of the Pacific Northwest and elsewhere in North America where it is widespread. Like most Cladonias, it exhibits a fondness for rotten logs, but within the genus, it is more sensitive to pollutants than some of its kin. It seemed to be enjoying the air circulation on a plateau 20 feet above Ohop Creek near its confluence with the Nisqually River.

Dam Ohop Creek

Day 312: Since my "Forest Succession" nature walk in the Ohop Valley, I have been puzzling over the aspect of human psychology which compels us to interfere. I can't claim to have come up with the rationale, but it strikes me that it is intrinsically linked to our insistence that others conform to what we consider "right," whether it is our religious belief, our political agenda, or even just our side of the nonsensical argument of whether the faces on our paper money should be centered or offset. This came up because one of the people attending my walk (someone not affiliated with the Land Trust) told me that when he sees a beaver dam blocking a creek, he opens a portion of it to allow fish easy passage, claiming that he used to work for Fish and Wildlife and by inference, that he knows better how to manage the ecology better than Mother Nature. I attempted to reason with him (asserting my side of the argument, and here I damn myself for committing the very offense which is the subject of my rant), explaining that the healthiest, strongest migrating fish will leap over a small dam such as this one, or that by the time the upstream migration occurs, high water will make passage much easier. The unstated and unjustifiable assertion that "fish are better than beavers" bothers me. Who are we to make that determination? What gives us the right? Why can't we just leave it alone (whatever "it" is), and let Nature follow her own course? She managed the balancing act quite well until we insisted on getting involved.

Two Waters

Day 142: Forget laughter as the best medicine. For me, the most potent restorative is Nature, or as I'm more likely to express it, "Out." When things weigh heavily on my mind or when the aches and pains of age begin to reflect in my disposition, I opt for a dose of Out. I've spent a lot of this week Out (albeit close to home). Don't let the sunny sky fool you. It's cold out there and rather breezy, so my ventures Out have been limited to the brief window of above-freezing temperatures from late morning and mid-afternoon. Out, I can shut off the internal dialog and simply BE, and while that doesn't change a thing, it makes it easier to bear when the world closes in on me again.

Today, I went Out to the confluence of little Ohop Creek and the Nisqually River. It was a short hike for me, a little over three miles total. Only one Pacific Wren and one Black-Capped Chickadee shared the walk with me. It was too early for Caddis-fly "periwinkles" in the creek, too early even for the grass to be greening, although one dandelion's yellow eye stared up at me as I strode by. Nodding inflorescences of Indian-plum showed only winks of white between their sepals, hinting at Spring but still too shy to make a statement. The river rambled on, its rush of conversation drowning the whisper of the creek, and before I'd learned their secrets, it was time to turn toward warmth and home.

Ohop Creek Deception

Day 13: Just look at those puffy clouds and that pretty blue sky! You'd think it was summer on Ohop Creek...until you look at the bottom photo which shows that typical Pacific Northwest "white sky" during a brief break in the rain. Yes, the clouds came out of a box, i.e., they're a filter in my photo processing software.

Today needed all the outside help it could get. Gloomy, wet, dismal, and me with a list of things to do which I'd rather have postponed indefinitely if that was in my character. I am guilty of having put one off for a number of months (I only go to the doctor as an alternate to booking a mortician), but even that is behind me now, and with nothing more than a "take it easy for a while" caution to see me out the door. My driver's license is good for another six years, and I have a stockpile of millet flour and molasses which should last me at least 12 months. Even if the summer skies are a deception, little Ohop Creek brightened the hastily-revised agenda for this dreary and somewhat tedious day.

Ohop Creek Bridge

Day 4: A month or so ago, a friend was exploring one of those roads that go nowhere and discovered at its end this quaint old bridge. Today, following in his tracks, I paid it a visit, puzzled at myself for having neglected to do so at any time over the course of more than two decades. The scene begged to be converted into an impressionistic painting with its magical light and touch of autumn color, so I ask my readers' forgiveness for posting two "artworks" back to back.

Ohop Valley Barn

Day 103: One of my favorite landmarks, this old barn overlooks a stretch of Ohop Creek which is almost line-straight, its unusual topography the product of an abortive attempt to drain the bottomland for farming. In the early 1900s, settlers here were not concerned with natural runs of salmon and the conditions required to keep them viable. Their thoughts went solely to rending the land dry enough to support the hooves and habits of cattle. They were soon to discover that underlying the surface soil, a thick layer of clay prevented further drainage and consequently, their dreams of a burgeoning agriculture evaporated. In recent years, the Nisqually Land Trust has bought up much of the Ohop, and extensive work has been done to restore the natural meanders. This property is one of the few which remains in private hands. The good news is that the salmon are returning to the creek's lower reaches. Perhaps some day, this area will be added to the Trust's growing list of holdings and restoration projects.

South Bridge

Day 28: After putting in a couple of unscheduled hours in the office this morning, I donned my other hat, drove the opposite direction and went to my second task happy to be out of doors one more time before the weather changes. I took advantage of relatively dry grass to make a patrol for invasive weeds in a part of the Nisqually Land Trust's Ohop Valley property I'd not explored fully, and took the camera and tripod with me in order to make an HDR shot of the southernmost bridge. The northern bridge spans a small backwater, as opposed to the south bridge which crosses the stream itself. In a flood, Ohop Creek leaps from its banks here and sometimes rises high enough to flow across the road. The creek below the bridge has been restored to a natural meander, and the section above the bridge is slated for rehabilitation in the next few years.