With A Teaspoon

Day 329: My day had only just begun when I took this photo, and by the time it ended, I had packed the bow of the kayak so full of Lake St. Clair's Jewelweed that I barely had room for my feet and gear. Given that in one small corner of the lake the infestation covers more than an acre of shoreline, I feel like I'm dipping the ocean dry with a teaspoon. That said, I'm winning in a couple of spots, doing a "maintenance run" on them whenever I go out, pulling any stragglers or new growth. I've singlehandedly rescued one log from the evil weed, and have a fifty-foot stretch of shoreline almost free of the nasty stuff. Do I have enough years left to me to clean the lake? I sincerely doubt it, not even if I worked 365 days a year. Call it a "permanent job," if you will.

What to do today was a toss between kayaking and chanterelling, having had a report of "mountain gold" from Arnie. Wildfire smoke kept me housebound for most of August, and there was still too much in the air today for me to think about hiking up one lesser-known and very steep trail after mushrooms, so I loaded the 'yak on the car and took off for Lake St. Clair, honestly only intending to paddle a bit, visit the Sundews and come home. Consequently, I forgot to put a weed bag in the 'yak, an omission which left me prime prey for ants and spiders by the hundred. They like Jewelweed. And I won't say the evil weed is without purpose. An inadvertent encounter with a patch of nettles provided an opportunity for scientific study. Jewelweed is purported to be good against poison oak/ivy, and a previous nettling during a weed patrol had made me wonder if I hadn't reacted as strongly because I was already covered with the sap. When I got my arm in the nettle patch today, I immediately rubbed the spot with a crushed Jewelweed leaf. Voila! Instant relief! Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to work against ant and spider bites.

Results Are In

Day 328: Today was my first day of duty at the Washington State Fair (Puyallup Fair) for 2018, and I was finally able to find out if I'd taken any prizes for the two pieces of weaving and a bobbin-lace edged handkerchief I'd entered. I've never participated in Home Arts before, although I did take "Honorable Mention" in an annual national-level hardanger contest three times. Last year, I noticed that the Fair was chronically short of bobbin lace, so after talking to one of the docents, I resolved to put in an entry. The process was a little confusing, having to select a "division" and a "class" without a clear idea of what those terms meant, but I got it figured out. I delivered the works to the Fair office last month and settled in to wait, not really expecting to receive any awards. The Fair does not post results on line, so today was the first chance I'd had to find out. I located the green overshot weaving first and squealed like a piglet when I saw a "Second Prize" ribbon hanging from it, but I was having trouble finding the other two pieces. A docent came to my rescue, and to my great delight, I found another "Second Prize" ribbon on the second weaving and a "First Prize" on the bobbin lace. I will definitely be entering again next year!

Tribble-On-A-Stick

Day 327: Any Star Trek fan would be happy to identify this wildflower for you. It's "Tribble-on-a-Stick" and the subalpine meadows at this time of year are a testament to their reproductive abilities. Seriously, though...Anemone occidentalis does carry the quirky common name of "Mouse-on-a-Stick" in addition to "Western Anemone" or "Western Pasqueflower." The flower is one of the first to appear in the spring, often blooming in between snow patches. Phenologically speaking, Western Anemone has one of the longest cycles between budding and "blowing" of any of the subalpine plants and may be observed in the meadows throughout the whole season in one form or another. The "mop-heads" familiar to most hikers (as shown above) are the seed-bearing phase. When the seeds are fully mature, the plant will release them to be sown by the wind, ensuring a whole new generation of Tribbles to plague Captain Kirk.

Rigid Heddle Weaving - Log Cabin

Day 326: Weaving on a rigid heddle loom is a new experience for me, and although the basic principle (creating sheds, passing a shuttle) is the same as weaving on a standard loom, the operation is different. Rather than using treadles or jacks to change sheds, the weave raises or pushes down on heddles set in a frame. Notches in the sides of the loom allow the frame to be locked in place, freeing up the hands for shuttle operations. The warp is wound onto a roller in the same manner as it is on a regular loom, and the finished cloth is advanced in the same way. Since there are only two possible sheds (the positions of the threads) with rigid-heddle weaving, more elaborate patterns require the use of pick-up sticks or a second heddle kit if one can be used with that particular loom (mine allows it). That said, some interesting patterns can be woven simply by changing colours in the warp or weft. Here, I am weaving a log-cabin pattern using a repeat of B-W-B-W-B-W-B-W, W-B-W-B-W-B-W-B. Note that at the ends of each half-sequence, the order reverses and the last thread of the first half is the same colour as the first thread of the second half. Using the same two-part sequence in both warp and weft results in a change of the dominant colour in each block.

Tarn At Faraway Rock

Day 325: Hikers climb roughly 400' in three-quarters of a mile to reach Faraway Rock and a splendid view of Louise Lake from above, but for me, the Lakes Trail is more memorable for its numerous "pothole" tarns. Each has its individual appeal. The first is surrounded by blue huckleberry bushes, and later in September, the red leaves and backdrop of golden grass make it a veritable jewel of the backcountry. A dip in the trail just beyond this point gives a unique perspective of the tarn, the basin and water surface approximately at eye level to the viewer travelling downhill. Further up, other tarns serve as elk wallows and polliwog pools, the shorelines alive in season with thousands of newly emerged froglets. Many (most) of the tarns along this trail are muddy-bottomed, as anyone who steps into one with the intention of wading soon discovers as they sink up to the knees or deeper in soft goo, so although they seem clear and inviting, you're better off sticking to the trail even when your clothes are sticking to you!

Elmera Racemosa

Day 324: Elmera racemosa is one of the plants I generally refer to by its scientific name. "Elmera" rolls off the tongue more easily than "Yellow Coralbells" and gives the plant the degree of distinction it is due. Elmera occurs only in the Pacific Northwest (British Columbia, Washington and Oregon), and only in the alpine/subalpine zones. It is sufficiently distinct from other Coralbells (Heuchera) that it merits a genus all its own (Elmera). In Mount Rainier National Park, it is not considered uncommon, but never occurs in abundance at any location or below 5000'.

September's Flower

Day 323: A glad, good September Morn to you, my readers! As many of you know, this is a special day for me, second only to Christmas and that, only because Christmas is the holiday recognized by the majority of my friends. September Morn heralds the season of colour, of cool nights and blithe days, of harvest; it opens "the beautiful month," my favourite time to be in the high country, and no plant is more symbolic of September than the Bog Gentian. These flowers are the last to bloom in the subalpine meadows, and they are so intensely blue that they seem to be drawing the sky into themselves, husbanding the summer's cloudless days, taking the azure vault of the heavens into their roots, there to hold it in care through the long winter. Sometimes a white form can be found, an errant cloud browsing through a sunny day like a wayward sheep. Ah, September! If we must give farewell to summer, you have consoled us with the glorious Bog Gentian.