Postcard Tug

Day 298: Yesterday evening, Sound & Fury danced in performance at Seattle's Hiram M. Chittenden Locks, a site known to locals as the "Ballard Locks." This complex of locks allows ships passage from the salt waters of Puget Sound to Lake Union and Lake Washington. Salt water is prevented from intruding into the freshwaters of the two lakes by means of a dredged basin in which the heavier salt water settles and drains back into the Sound. According to official sources, the Ballard Locks see the most ship traffic of any lock in the United States. On the north side of the Locks, visitors may also stroll through the manicured grounds of Carl S. English Jr. Botanical Gardens, read about the project or shop at the visitor center, or on certain occasions, pause to enjoy the sight of Morris dancers clashing sticks and flagging handkerchiefs to the sound of bells.

I arrived early, having had some other business in Seattle, and took advantage of the time for photography and a little geocaching. As I walked across the foot-bridges spanning the locks, I recalled passing through them as a child in my father's little cabin cruiser. To a child of seven or eight years, the algae-coated concrete walls and looming machinery were somewhat intimidating, and the length of time it took for the water levels to be adjusted felt interminable. Even then, I wanted to be out on open water, angling for anything which would take a bait. For me, that usually meant a dogfish, Puget Sound's "mini-shark," even more frightening than the claustrophobic atmosphere of the locks. My dad would either gaff them and throw them back, or take the carcases home to plant under the fruit trees, a practice which he claimed prevented peach-leaf curl. On the other hand, my parents caught flounder, cod and (unintentionally) sea anemones and starfish, both of which intrigued me. Sometimes, we'd cross the sound and put into a small bay where the warmer water invited my folks to swim. I'd paddle around in the shallows wearing a life jacket, and on one memorable occasion, I panicked and had to be hoisted back into the boat when I saw a ray and thought it was pursuing me. The end of the day meant another tedious passage through the locks, one which usually found me sound asleep in the cabin, thoroughly worn out from the seafaring adventures headed up by the captain I adored.

Second Experiment

Day 297: Despite the fact that Akebia fruits (Akebi) have absolutely nothing to recommend them as edibles, my success at hand-pollinating them last year led me to wonder if I could repeat the experiment with similar results. Testing should never be a one-off. If results are not reproducible, you can't claim success. To that end, when the Akebis bloomed this spring, I got out my trusty camel-hair brush and started checking flowers daily for pollen production and receptivity. Once again, very few female blossoms appeared on the white-flowered vine as compared to the purple variety, and conversely, none of the male flowers on the purple Akebia matured to the pollen-making stage. Consequently, I was only able to transfer pollen from white male flowers to purple females; nevertheless, I got results, and seven Akebia fruits are coming into their maturity. I now know that I waited too late to pick them last year and that the seed/pulp ratio was skewed to the "seed" side of the equation. As for their potential as edibles...well, as a good scientist, I'm going to have to see this experiment through to its conclusion, although I don't expect the final stage to vary from previously recorded data. In other words, "Ugh!"

Naturalist-at-Large

Day 296: In the truest sense of the word, I was literally wearing a different hat today, although still functioning in my role as a naturalist. Today I conducted a small group of associates from the Nisqually Land Trust on an interpretive walk through my Ohop Valley stewardship property. The theme of the easy hike was "How Restoration Benefits the Critter Community," and covered topics including species-specific use of plants for forage and habitat, successes and failures in the restoration process, forest succession and the human history of the area. I devised a "nature bingo" and awarded wooden Audubon bird-calls to the first two participants who completed it, and handed out consolation prizes to the rest. I took guidance from an interpretive system called ACE ("Audience-Centered Experience"), and was happy to find that this group was easy to engage in discussion when I drew them out with questions. It was a bit of a change-up from my usual (and rather pedantic) recitation of scientific facts. The group's responses were well thought-out when asked to give their opinions on what constitutes "old-growth forest," an arbitrary human definition which varies from agency to agency but even moreso from a critter's point of view. The Nisqually Land Trust is a private non-profit organization, and therefore will not be affected by the prevailing anti-science sentiments in high-level government. Here, I can speak science freely, helping to educate people who, hopefully, will secure a future for our Earth.

Vine Fruit

Day 295: Fruits of the vine! I thought I'd lost all my kiwi berries to the varmints, but I discovered two which had escaped predatory notice. I am sure the only reason they remained on the vine is that I removed Doogie Squirrel from the equation and haven't seen any of his kin since I relocated him to Mineral. I'm not sure how to tell if they're ripe; currently, they're hard as little rocks. As for the grapes, I've given up trying to prune them according to the book. I just let them go last year, and this year, it looks like I may have a record harvest if I'll just get out there and put the net up. The Steller's Jays prefer grapes a bit on the tart side and invariably pick them a day or two before my human taste buds consider them ripe. Grapes, of course, are best after a light frost has set the sugar, but even a light freeze will cause the bunches to shatter at the slightest disturbance. These are Interlaken, a seedless variety which tastes very similar to Concords. I've never tried to make jelly with them because the vine has only produced one good crop in thirty years.

Crow's Rule Of Projects

Day 294: The success of any venture necessitates a little self-analysis in order to form a game plan. Recognizing your weaknesses is crucial, to wit, I have a short attention span. I get bored with projects quickly. Having recognized this failing when I was still in my early 20s, I formulated a "rule of projects," and by sticking to it religiously (whether I want to or not), anything I start gets finished eventually. What's Crow's Rule of Projects? It's simple: I can't have more than one craft of any type going at once. If I want to weave something different, the project currently on the loom has to be completed before I can start a new weaving, or I have to finish knitting the Perpetual Afghan before I can start a hat or pair of socks. Sometimes I need a little extra push, like finding a yarn I particularly want to use for a garment or having a brainstorm with respect to something I'd like to give as a gift. That's motivation to finish up the current work. I should also mention that it's okay to have more than one project going, but only one piece of knitting on the needles, one doily on the crochet hook, one quilt in the hoop at any one time. In fact, it's preferable because it keeps me from getting burned out.

These are a few of my current boredom-beaters. The silver Gotland wool arrived on Wednesday and I've already spun about two ounces out of twenty-four. I re-warped the loom yesterday to make a couple of knitting worsted bags (quick work), and then there's the ongoing quilt and a kumihimo braid. With each of these, I set minimum goals per sitting, i.e., I will spin three tufts of wool each time I work at the wheel, stitch one rectangle and two squares whenever I quilt. I generally exceed the minimums, but there are times when I move from loom to spinning wheel immediately after the requisite throws in the pattern have been made. Some things can be dropped in mid-work; kumihimo is easy to lay down, so I haven't established a minimum for braiding. It's "filler" for when I need a break between long-term crafts. Crow's Rule of Projects works!

Love-in-a-Mist

Day 293: My poor garden is getting heat-stressed. Although today is a bit cooler, the last two weeks' temperatures have hovered between 85-95 degrees and despite being watered, even the most drought-hardy plants are feeling the effects of the dry spell. I recorded a pitiful 0.20" of precip for the month of July. Because I rely on a well for household water, I try to plant drought-tolerant species so that I can be sparing with the hose. Fortunately, Nigella (Love-in-a-Mist) has endured practically anything Nature has thrown at it, re-seeding itself to provide flowers again next year. The pods turn a warm brown when dried, retaining the reddish-purple markings. They're lovely for dried arrangements or...oh, yeah, last year's are still hanging from the lantern chandelier in the east end of my kitchen.

Bud Blancher Knapweed

Day 292: If you're out walking and happen to see pretty little purple flowers which don't exactly fit the description of "thistle" because they're not thorny, or that remind you of Ragged Robin (if you have those in your area) or Bachelor's Buttons, step up and take a closer look. Chances are, it will be one of several species or hybrids in the Knapweed family, and a rapidly spreading invasive in many parts of North America. Even as a private citizen (as opposed to someone affiliated with an organization like the Invasive Plant Council), you can report your sighting on-line through EDDMapS at https://www.eddmaps.org/ and for those of you who have smarter phones than mine, there are apps to make the process easier. EDDMapS stands for "Early Detection and Distribution Mapping System." It is part of the University of Georgia's Center for Invasive Species and Ecosystem Health. Per their web page, "Early detection of new invasive species infestations and rapid, coordinated responses are needed to eradicate or contain invasions before they become too widespread and control becomes technically and financially impossible."

Knapweed is a growing concern here in the Pacific Northwest (unintended but appropriate pun, there). It can establish a monoculture in a very short period of time, and is sufficiently virulent to even give Scotch Broom a run for the money. Although many city, county and state agencies try to stay on top of it in their parks and on their trails, it goes without treatment on adjacent private properties. If you find it in a location where you can legally remove it, bag the heads before cutting, being careful not to shake loose any developing seed. Dislodged seed may continue to develop if it drops to the ground. Dispose of the bagged seed heads by placing them in your household garbage. Do not attempt to compost them; the temperature in a compost heap is not sufficient to destroy them. In worst-case scenarios, chemical treatment is recommended. Check with your local weed board to find out which chemicals can be used in your area.