Indian Plum, Oemleria Cerasiformis

Day 156: A true harbinger of Spring, Indian Plum is one of the first shrubs to flower here in western Washington, emerging shortly after the early pussywillows have turned yellow and just before Skunk Cabbage heads poke up in the bogs. Also known as Osoberry, the astringent fruits were mixed with oolichan grease by native peoples to make a local version of pemmican. There is very little flesh in the fruit which resembles chokecherry to some degree. Ripe berries are dusty purple in color. The flower has a peculiar and not altogether pleasant scent, and the shrub seldom exceeds 15 feet in height.

Trail Companion

Day 155: Watch where you step! With warming temperatures, all sorts of little critters are coming out of hiding and may be making their way across the trails. During my walks this week, I've found angleworms, a Woolly Bear caterpillar and an abundance of snails hiding among forest detritus, and I've heard our Pacific Tree Frogs singing although I haven't been able to spot any of them. These tiny folk can't get out of your way quickly, so it's up to you to be on the lookout. You don't want to hear the crunch of someone's shell under your foot, so please be careful where you tread.

Bird's-Nest Fungi, Nidula Niveotomentosa

Day 154: You could fit several Bird's-Nest fungi in the space it takes to spell out "Nidula niveotomentosa" on the page, and a dozen would just about cover a penny. These tiny mycological marvels are not uncommon in the Pacific Northwest, but they are easy to overlook. Each little cup contains twenty or more "eggs," spore-filled peridioles the size of a zero in a penny's date. In this species, rain assists in transporting the peridioles. If you look in the space of lighter wood to the left of Lincoln's head, you will see one which has been washed out of the cup. Another lies in a line with and to the right of the date, just below a patch of grey-green lichen.

I discovered these specimens along the Upper Elk Spur trail while I was out on my morning walk under light rain. I was unable to get a good picture of them with the little point-and-shoot I carry on my belt, so when I got home an hour or so later, I packed up the good camera and tripod and drove back up to the trailhead. As luck would have it, that was when the forecast of "heavy rain" proved itself by coming down in buckets, helping those teeny-tiny peridioles in their search for new real estate.

Baby Doug

Day 153: Here in the Pacific Northwest, our lower forests tend to be "mixed" stands of evergreens with the occasional incursion of deciduous trees like Red Alder or Cottonwood following stream channels or populating wetlands. Cedar is easy to identify, as is Hemlock, but things get a little stickier when it comes to telling Sitka Spruce from Douglas Fir, especially when the trees are young and no cones are available for analysis. The easiest way to tell them apart is to compare cross-sections of a needle. Fir needles are flat, and spruce needles are square. A fir needle will not roll between your finger and thumb, but a spruce needle will. Spruce needles are stiffer and the ends feel sharp. Fir needles are more flexible and the ends are blunt. This baby Doug (Pseudotsuga menziesii) has found a wonderful moss-covered "nurse" to nurture it to adulthood.

In My Element

Day 152: I am becoming one with the lichens, and I don't mean to imply any metaphysical connection but rather a purely physical one. During this fitness challenge, I have put in a couple of hundred miles walking in the rain. Oh, I've been wetter in my career as an outdoors person. My mom and I spent six weeks backpacking in what felt like a continuous downpour, returning from one trip just long enough to swap out sodden clothes for dry ones before launching on another adventure. We were tenting at Blue Glacier in the Olympics on a night when four inches of precipitation fell, the humidity so high that it "rained" inside the tent and left us sleeping in a pool on the tent floor. I've done my time in the rain, and I swore I wasn't going to walk in it for the challenge, but here I am, and lichens, moss and fungi are beginning to sprout on various portions of my anatomy.

Rain is a fact of life in the Pacific Northwest. If you're a native, you accept it and go about your business in Goretex and coated nylon. You grouse and grumble and expect sympathy from people who live in drier climates, but you don't let it keep you from enjoying yourself. The only time rain upsets you is when it stops...stops just as you arrive home from a walk in a drencher.

I missed most (but not all) of the downpour this morning on my trip up to the Big Bridge on the horse trail. It sprinkled, it drizzled, it rained, and only hosed down for about fifteen minutes, but it was never dry, not until I closed the front door behind me, stripped off my dripping jacket and trousers and hung them in the shower. Then it stopped. Then a faint light emerged, not quite strong enough to cast shadows, but sufficient to dispel any rumours of the non-existence of old Sol. The grass took on a yellow cast and mist began rising between the ridges. It was and is tempting to go out for another walk, but I know how this works. In the time it takes to suit up for the inevitable possibility of more rain, it would start falling just as I stepped over the threshold.

Wrong Turn Vista

Day 151: It's hard to believe that only two days ago, I was enjoying afternoon temperatures of almost 60 degrees and this beautiful (if accidental) view of Mount Rainier. Yes, this shot was taken shortly before I discovered I'd hiked two miles out of my way. In my post for that day, I referred to this area as a "clearcut" which it obviously is not. Unlike the snow-covered clearcut in the distance, this particular section has been selectively thinned, one of the many sustainable-forestry practices being employed by the timber industry here in the Pacific Northwest. This site was planted with Doug fir in close spacing around thirty years ago. When the trees reached a harvestable size for pulp (8-12" diameter), they were thinned. The remaining trees will be allowed to develop until they reach proportions suitable for cutting into lumber. The close spacing of the initial planting retards development of branches on the lower trunks and thus yields "clear" material for boards. The height of these trees is approximately 60-80'.

Lichen Architecture

Day 150: I've mentioned previously that lichens are particularly equipped to conserve moisture whether it's rain, dew or simply humidity, and no species typifies the amazing biological architecture of a water-retention system better than that of abundantly squamous Cladonia bellidiflora. The pale greyish-green squamules (scaly flakes) on the podetia (stalks) allow this Cladonia to make use of whatever moisture comes its way, even when the lichen is growing on a vertical plane such as the side of a downed log. We speak of animal and bird species as being "specialized," but lichens are one of the best examples of specialization in nature.