The Renowned Joe Stick

Day 358: When my friend Rob and his dad were here visiting from New Zealand in late June, it was only natural for them to request a grand tour of my yard. I hadn't expected it would come immediately after they got settled in, but it did. I showed them the Berry Pen, the Barren Wasteland, the contorted filbert, the fig tree, etc. and so forth and, thinking I'd covered all the bases, led them around to go in the front door. Rob surprised me by saying, "I want to see the Joe Stick." I burst out laughing, amazed that he even remembered my posts about Chlorociboria aeruginascens, the tiny aqua-blue fungus my botany partners had gifted to me several years before. "It's JUNE, Rob!" I replied. "It probably won't even be visible as a blue smear. It fruits in autumn." But I obligingly parted the hosta leaves, dug down beneath the ferns and extracted the Stick. It had just a few discs showing which satisfied Rob's curiosity. With that in mind, this post is for him. The Stick is not yet in its full glory, but I am happy to report that this unusual fungus is still performing quite well in my Garden of Botanical Curiosities.

Rob's Teddy Bear

Day 260: My guests had a busy day yesterday and today (their last full day) promises to be even more active, so I thought I'd show you Rob's "teddy bear." This is the slime mold he found at Longmire. Of course if you've been following along, you'll recognize it as Fuligo septica which bears the unpleasant common name of "Dog-vomit." It was inside a rotting stump, too high for me to have observed from the ground, so when Rob found it and called me over, he hoisted me up so I could see it. I climbed up the opposite side of the stump to take the photo. His view of it looked even more like a teddy bear than mine! Then I proceeded to explain slime molds to Mike (Rob's dad), who was intrigued by the fact that they can move. I was so tickled that Rob had spotted it that all through the remainder of the day, I kept inserting, "You found a sime mold!" into our coversations.

In other news, I am happy to report that the top of the Mountain came out yesterday evening, so they were able to see it, albeit not in total. We'll remedy that today. My botany partners dropped by in the evening to meet them, and to show them pictures of the bear they'd spotted at Paradise. Rob and his dad were also able to get a glimpse of the northern hemisphere's night sky, although dawn was already beginning to dim the stars when we went outside. Tonight's viewing should be much better. Tomorrow they begin the journey home, and one thing is certain: Merry is going to miss terribly the wonderful new friends who came here just especially to meet him.

Off the Beaten Path

Day 259: Before they arrived, I had warned my New Zealand guests that there wasn't a lot to do here in the Back of Beyond unless you were an avid hiker or a mountaineer. The skies have been cloudy, and they've only seen the tips of Mount Rainier's three summit peaks poking up above them. In the hopes that we might get above the clouds for a Mountain view, I decided to take them up to Paradise yesterday even though the webcams showed the area blanketed in fog. There was little chance they would actually get a view, but I thought I could offer a little excitement en route with a brief visit to a little-known area. Obviously, Rob enjoyed the diversion! In exchange, he was able to provide a trip highlight to me: he found a slime mold (it will appear in a subsequent post). We paid Kevin a visit at the office, and as predicted, Paradise was a rainy, nippy washout. With two days left before they start the trip home, there's still hope that my visitors may both see the Mountain and the night skies of the northern hemisphere. It's supposed to clear up.

Rob Learns To Weave

Day 258: When Rob told me that he'd hoped to have a weaving lesson while he was here visiting from New Zealand, I could hardly believe I'd heard him correctly, and of course I was overjoyed to have the opportunity to teach. The only unoccupied loom at the moment was my 10" rigid heddle, so I set it up at full width with a little over a yard of "Sugar'n Cream"cotton (a heavy crochet cotton which is perfect for a beginner's first project). After dinner, we settled in for the lesson. I explained briefly what I had done to thread the loom, showed him how I had woven and hemstitched the first few rows, handed him a loaded shuttle and turned him loose after emphasizing the importance of tidy selvedges. "Sometimes it takes new weavers years to be able to make good selvedges," I said. "Don't expect them to be perfect on your first piece." And then he proceeded to weave a washcloth with the best selvedges I have ever seen a beginner make! Several hours later, he was ready to learn how to hemstitch, and when that task was done, we cut the piece off the loom. Today, he'll finish it up by twisting the fringes, and I think he is entirely justified in being proud of his first weaving.

Rob's Wellington Cap

Day 139: Thanks to a friend with a 3D printer, I was able to fill a request from Rob (a friend in New Zealand) to "make me one of them flash beenies in Wellington colours, please." Seamus printed up 32 intarsia bobbins in assorted colours using an internet image for the basis of his design. They work perfectly! I prefer using bobbins to making yarn "butterflies" because when you're working more than a couple of changes, the strands tangle. Bobbins hold the yarn securely through the untangling process, but butterflies tend to fall apart and frequently need rewinding. Horizontal stripes don't require bobbins or butterflies, but unless the yarn is carried on the back of the work, vertical sections are best worked in intarsia. I experimented with both techniques as well as several ways of effecting decreases before I was satisfied with the pattern for Rob's Wellington cap. Originally, I'd planned the hat to be a Christmas present, but Christmas falls in mid-summer in New Zealand, so I mailed it off to him this week.

From A Distant Shore

Day 220: How it is that she sailed 7000 miles unmanned shall forever be a mystery, yet sail it she did, and docked safely today to offload a cargo of precious chocolate upon a foreign shore. I was not totally unprepared for her arrival, although I had no idea as to the nature of the "surprise" I had been told to await from New Zealand, but I had rather forgotten that a parcel was en route.

For this gift, I have my friend Rob to thank, the same "Robin Penn" who entered Captain Morgan Corbye's history on November 11, 2013 with the "thump-thump" of his wooden leg announcing his arrival on the dock; Rob who, after losing his leg in a real-life accident applied for inclusion in the good Captain's crew. Morgan Corbye does not turn a good man away, and Rob had proved his mettle. We've never met in person and perhaps never will, but the distance between us is shortened through technology, allowing us the privilege of a friendship which spans the sea.

As ship's bursar and former bos'un, Robin Penn is a close confidante to Capt. Corbye and a trusted associate. His staunch good spirits and sound work ethic make him a highly respected member of the crew. His wry sense of humour would brighten the stormiest of days and smooth the roughest and most tempestuous of waters. 'Tis me 'onour t' know ye, lad, s'trewth!

A Leg Up

Day 40: "She'll be readin' th' weather." Robin Penn's remark was spoken softly despite the fact that his approach was clearly announced by the sound of his wooden leg punctuating every other step along the dock's planking. "An' I be thinkin' she's not a bit 'appy wi' it. Wants 'eavy fog, she does."

Robin served as our ship's bursar, cabin boy despite his age, and more importantly, ship's carpenter though his duties in that regard were limited by his infirmity. I had wondered at his service in the crew and made bold to ask him directly how he came not to be pensioned off under the Articles which provided more generously than most for loss of a limb. I found him willing to discuss the matter openly without taking offense at my curiosity; thus I learned that the very thing he warned so often against became his own undoing, but as a matter of choice, not chance.

"'Twas th' foggy season, like now," he told me. "We'd boarded bloody parish-rigged brig, see, carryin' a load o' victuals wot we sorely wanted, an' I were layin' about wi' me cutlass amongst 'er crew when I spied our powder monkey, young chap an' green, lookin' t' 'ave 'is 'ead split by a rogue wi' a belayin' pin. Oh, them were th' days! Well, th' anchor chain, it were a'tween me an' th' blighter wi' the belayin' pin. I made a leap t'save th' laddie...took that bleeder's arm off, I did...but somewheres one o' th' mates fired a keg o' powder an' th' brig, she 'eeled over fast. Got me leg in th' blasted chain, an' off she come in th' backlash. Carpenter...'im wot was our surgeon, too...tol' me, 'We'll 'ave ye right as rain, lad,' an' pared off th' tatty bits an' set me up wi' this 'ere peg." Penn paused for a noisy drencher from a flask of rum, his voice gone raspy with the telling of the tale while I stood speechless at how casually he could relate it, as if it were all in a day's work in the trade of piracy.

"Now Cap'n," he continued, "she seen wot I done fer th' young feller, an' she come by to see me in me bunk. 'Ye're a guid man, Robin, me lad, but tell me this: did ye no' consider wot might 'appen when ye went over th' chain?' I told 'er straight, 'That I did, but Jack Tar were about t' 'ave 'is brains spilt, an' I were thinkin' 'e's far too young t' die just yet. I took me chance an' lost th' roll.' Then she looks me str'ight in th' eye an' says, 'Then I gives ye a choice, fer that's wot I suspected. Ye can do one o' eether. Fer savin' a man's life, I'll gi'e ye double wot's laid out in Articles an' pension ye off, or ye can stay aboard an' be 'prenticed t' carpenter. But I'll no' be 'avin' ye monkeyin' about in th' riggin', mind. Ye're a deck 'and an' at lower pay if ye wants t' stay on.'" Penn took another pull at his flask, but it had gone dry. I offered my own, for my taste for rum is limited. He accepted it with but a nod in thanks, draining half the contents before lowering it to his knee.

"She give me two days t' think it over, an' I mean t' tell ye, it weren't a easy choice. But 'ere I be. 'Tis in me blood, piratin', an' wi' a Cap'n like Morgan Corbye, well, she ain't so mean as some. Wi' bein' full carpenter now an' bursar besides, me pay's almost as good as ever it were as bo'sun."

There was one more question I wanted to ask, and Robin anticipated it. "Young Jackie Tar, wot become o' 'im, ye wonder? Next time we put into port, 'e drew 'is pay an' married th' parson's daughter. I 'ear 'e's a clark at th' clothier's. 'ad all 'e wanted o' piratin', that one, an' Cap'n let 'im go wi' her blessin'."

Perhaps the sound of her name fell upon the Captain's ear, for at that moment she rounded on us sharply and said, "Ready th' lads an' get 'em aboard. We're sailin' on th' mornin' tide. Shift it, ye bloodless curs! We've piratin' t' do."

*****

Footnote: A little less than a year ago, a friend lost his leg in an industrial accident. He asked me to consider writing him into Morgan Corbye's saga. Given the circumstances, I have done so. This one's for you, Rob.