Restoration

Day 75: The restoration work you see here along the margins of a small backwater of Ohop Creek may be recent, but it was thirty years ago, give or take a few weeks, that I worked on my first live-staking project in Ohop Valley. Today, I am a Site Steward for the area, making forays now and then to clean up litter (of which there seems to be a limitless and constantly replenishing supply), to check on the status of plants, to report wildlife and human activity, to monitor invasives and remove them when possible (obviously, the War Against Reed-Canary Grass is one which cannot be won by the hands of Man alone). Thirty years, and still the valley gives the appearance of a new planting. Yes, I can see changes from thirty years ago, but the real effects of restoration may take a century or more to make themselves visible to the inexperienced eye. I look at these young Red Osier Dogwoods and think, "That's Warbler habitat which wasn't there ten years ago." I see the clear water, and my mind runs to the Great Blue Heron who is doing his part to eliminate the invasive Bullfrogs. I see young willows and twinberry, their fruit and bark food sources for birds and mammals, and off over in the distance, I see taller Red Alders. "Those are my kids!" I might say to you proudly, if you were standing beside me. They're thirty years old now, and survived being thrust as bare twigs into wet soil by my own hands. I see my legacy to the Earth rising tall and green on the horizon, and I say to myself, "Well, I tried."

Oregon Ash Foliage And Samaras

Day 313: When Pacific Northwesterners hear the word "ash" used to indicate a native plant, the image which springs immediately to mind is of Sitka Mountain Ash (Sorbus sitchensis). The name is misleading. Sorbus is not an ash at all, despite the fact that its leaf arrangement resembles that of true ashes (Fraxinus). Sometimes called Rowan, Sorbus is a member of the Rosaceae family (Rose) and bears clusters of orange-red berries in the fall, much to the delight of migrating Cedar Waxwings and Grosbeaks. On the other hand, Oregon Ash is a true ash; Fraxinus in the Oleaceae is akin to olives and lilacs, and its fruit is a samara which contains a single seed. The papery wings of the samara allow it to be wind-carried to distances beyond the parent tree rather than falling to the ground directly beneath it as a nut would. When a mature ash grove forms, it can be very effective in shading out opportunistic and frequently undesirable understory plants such as Reed Canary Grass. For this reason, the Nisqually Land Trust chose it as one of the native species to be used in the restoration of Ohop Valley.

Calypso In White

Day 192: Happy Earth Day! No day goes by that I do not marvel at the Earth's wonders. Admittedly, an inordinate amount of that marvelling is conducted flat on the forest floor, heedless of mud and dirt whether I'm in uniform or not. Consequently, I frequently return to my desk after lunch with fir needles in my hair, bits of moss clinging to my elbows, pantlegs wet to the knees, and exultant over my latest find. Yesterday's gem was a white Calypso Orchid, discovered in the storm-ravaged Longmire Campground. It had been spared by the heavy equipment brought in to remove toppled trees and massive root wads, though what its future might be is open to conjecture. These delicate orchids like shady spots, and with almost 70 trees gone, the campground is a much sunnier site.

It was determined that the storm which caused the damage was a microburst, a localized pocket of high wind lasting only a few minutes. If you will, think of it as a sneeze on Mother Nature's part, and without the benefit of a hankie. The force exerted by her "achoo" on standing trees would be comparable to an unshielded human sneeze upon a desktop littered with confetti, over and done before the effects had time to settle. A human sneeze is difficult to suppress, but Ma Nature doesn't try. Nor do we when we're not out in polite company.

While I am thankful that she turned her head and spared the majority of the Calypsos, I cannot fault Ma for clearing her sinuses. After all, downbursts are as natural as wildflowers, and tree-fall is part of the process of succession in a healthy forest.

Footnote: white Calypsos are not a separate sub-species of Calypso bulbosa. Although far less common than the familiar magenta form, they are simply a colour variation.

Bubble Tree Memories

Day 63: I don't really know which came first, the Bubble Tree or your narrator, but as far back as I can remember, it was set up for every Christmas of my early years. It was not always as you would see it today. No, its boughs were originally white, the needles made of a (presumably) fire-retardant paper. Its lights were somewhat squatter than these, although almost as tall, and encompassed a wider range of colored plastics and bubble tubes. Over the years, however, the white paper yellowed with age, and my mother's attempts to salvage it with spray-on flocking were disastrous. She wanted to toss it in the trash, but I protested and was allowed to save the poor, sad thing in the hopes of some day restoring it. When I moved away from home, it was consigned to an old steamer trunk in an unheated outbuilding where in a further indignity, it mildewed. The next time I saw it, I was in my twenties, but still I could not bear to consign it to the bin. Instead, I stripped off the moldy paper and salvaged the metal armature which held the lights. The lights themselves were no longer functional and were discarded as well. The base (a plaster pedestal) was in good shape, so I saved it as well.

Bubble lights had by this time disappeared from the market, so I held very little hope of being able to restore my childhood treasure. Then one year, they reappeared on the market shelves in the form you see them here. The tree required nine lights; the new strings only held seven. I did the necessary rewiring and installed them on the armature. Then I wrapped the framework with green garland, having failed to find the white I'd hoped to buy. It was a small concession to make when considering that I was giving my favourite item of Christmas decor a new lease on life. I also laid in a supply of extra lights, just in case.

That was about thirty years ago now. Today, fully lighted, the Bubble Tree again stands in my home, merrily bubbling away for a conservative half a dozen nights or so during the holiday season. At the rate the lights burn out, my stash of spares will last throughout my remaining years.

Planting Crew

Day 19: If each of us planted as few as twenty trees today (and I know I planted at least two dozen), Ohop Valley is richer by no less than 600 young saplings representing 8-10 different species of wetland-loving plants destined to provide future habitat for critters of all sorts. This was one of several planting events which will be held on the former Burwash property, and is just a single facet of a multi-tiered restoration program which also includes reestablishment of the creek's natural meander. Portions of the creek have already been reditched, adding a mile or more of shoreline, improving drainage and controlling erosion with engineered log jams.

Thirty volunteers turned out for the Nisqually Land Trust's annual Hallowe'en event, some in costume and others not, but all willing to get down and dirty in the mud for the occasion. Many were returnees back for a second, third or fourth year on this long-term project. They came prepared for any weather, with smiles on their faces and shovels in their gloved hands. For three hours, they dug holes and filled them with plants, lovingly packing the soil around the roots and often giving a final word of encouragement to their charges as they moved on to the next in line: "Grow up tall, little snowberry!" and conversations flew all around as they laughed and shared their experiences.

As always, it was a delight to work with such a dedicated crew. Thank you all for your work today.

Weed Killer Weekly

Day 12: You can't blame us for getting a little goofy after the job was done. After all, it doesn't happen very often that you leave home for a work party under a forecast of "heavy rain and strong, gusty winds" only to arrive at the job site under blue skies and warm temperatures. Oh, the storm came in as predicted, but by the time it arrived, I was sitting here processing the photos from the event.

This little corner of Nisqually Land Trust property is now ready to be planted with native species. The little Scotch broom which remains will soon be shaded out by snowberry, twinberry, native willows and a variety of other trees and shrubs scheduled to go in the ground in November. Our efforts today met with the approval of a Chickadee overseer whose cheerful commentary was as welcome as the sunshine. He seemed to know we were working hard to restore his habitat.

Barn Site

Day 148: Just for the heck of it (and because I'm a little desperate for a photo today), here's another view of the area we were planting yesterday. The Cascara saplings went in the wetter areas (but not in standing water). The white plastic tubes (barely visible left) surround trees from a previous planting. The ones we planted yesterday are marked with pink flags.

Restoration Planting

Day 147: In addition to my regular routine of walking and riding the exercise bike, today I spent three hours planting over fifty Douglas fir and Cascara saplings in a field of rocks and mud. The project was part of the Nisqually Land Trust's efforts toward restoring natural habitat in Ohop Valley. Several old barns and outbuildings were removed from this site last fall, and the concrete slab foundations were broken into chunks with bulldozers and were then left to lay until funding could be found for removal of the debris. That work was completed a few weeks ago. It will take several more sessions such as this one before the site is completely replanted. In a few years' time, this area will present a very different aspect, and will again be home to many species of wildlife and birds.

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.

Plants Vs. Zombies In Real-Time

Day 24: The Nisqually Land Trust's annual Hallowe'en tree-planting event saw several Zombies obviously affected by behaviour-altering Hypno-shrooms working hard at digging holes and installing saplings in an area of Ohop Valley wetland. Most of the 45 participants in this project missed the memo regarding the dress code for the occasion, but it didn't dampen their enthusiasm. We planted 500-600 native trees and shrubs, including Baldhip Rose, Salmonberry and Oregon Ash, all especially selected for the wet-soil ecology of this newly-acquired property. It doesn't take BRAAAAAIIINS to understand the value of the work contributed by these volunteers, both alive and undead.