A Cluster Of One

Day 124: What Adeniums lack in leaves, they make up for in bloom. Admittedly, this is a rather poor showing, but "Star Cluster" was purchased at the end of the season and promptly shed all of its leaves save one upon being transplanted to its permanent pot. Eventually, it will live up to its name, displaying six or more flowers at the tip of its woody stalk. Leathery leaves will follow as the flowers drop, and if I'm lucky, it may put out a side branch. That said, another interesting appeal to this African beauty is the swollen caudex from which the stalk arises (not shown in the photo). The caudex husbands moisture to allow these plants to survive drought and heat. Adeniums come in a variety of hues from nearly black through red and purple shades into pale yellow. Some have coloured centers like "Star Cluster," but if you're expecting dense foliage, take your search elsewhere. Leave the Adeniums to those of us who don't mind nursing "dead" stems for months on end to obtain a few weeks of large, showy flowers.

Green Ice Cluny Doily

Day 123: A little over a week has passed since I submitted my first entry into a tatting/crochet contest and in the interim, I've been hard at work developing a second pattern which includes cluny leaves. Cluny tatting is not well-known even among experienced tatters, and purists sometimes argue that it doesn't really qualify as "tatting" because the leaves are woven rather than being formed with a series of half-hitches over a core thread. They argue, yes, but there is sufficient evidence of the art historically that their protests can be dismissed with the same wave of the hand which would dispel any dispute that a piece was not "crocheted" if it included a length of ribbon laced into the work, or that a sweater was not "knit" if it was finished with a crocheted edging. Cluny leaves are worked with the same threads used to make the rings and chains; they are not made separately or sewn in. They are most often found in pairs as they are in this design, but single leaves may be included where travel of the thread allows. This doily was made with a #7 needle and size 20 thread. It measures 7" in diameter.

The Horse And The Barn Door

Day 122: Again I am grateful to friends for their efforts on my behalf. My 25-year old Davis Weather Monitor II picked the most inconvenient time to die, i.e., while we were having the torrential, flood-and-landslide producing rains a week ago. I have been keeping weather records since March 1975 with very few gaps when one station or another ceased functioning and sent me hunting for an affordable replacement, but even in the interim, I recorded daily temperature and estimated wind speed as well as commenting on "notable occurrences" such as snow, thunder, or even the occasional earthquake (yeah, I know...that's not weather). Charting the data has been as much a part of my daily routine as brushing my teeth. In the Pacific Northwest, rainfall is arguably the most important piece of data to record and while a plastic gauge provides a close approximation of the amount, it's less accurate than I'd like. It was time to replace the station, and I opted for another Davis, the low-end Vue. It arrived today and I managed to get it installed on the pole erected by Joe Dreimiller without mishap, although he had made it look easy to swing a sixteen-foot piece of galvanized water pipe into position. Neither of us considered that he had the advantage of an additional foot in height. For a minute or two, I felt like Archimedes' fulcrum as I tried to get the pipe back into its brackets, but I am happy to say that the job is done and the station is reporting...wirelessly even, although I won't be hooking it up to the computer. Call me old-fashioned. I like paper records that I can pore over when I'm stormed in and the power's out, trying to determine from my graphs if the current weather is part of an established pattern or just a temporary trend.

The Dotted Line, Ramalina Farinacea

Day 121: At first glance, it's easy to mistake Ramalina farinacea for an Evernia, however close examination will reveal the rather interesting set of features which distinguish it. First of all, both sides are the same colour. Evernia is paler on the reverse. Second, you may see small perforations in the branches, looking very much like they've been holed by beetles. If you confirm both of these characteristics, then it's time to finalize your commitment. If the soralia are marginal (at the edges of the branches), discrete (separated) and elliptical as shown in the inset, you've found the "dotted line" which gives this species its common name. Sign here, and you're done. A similar species, Ramalina subleptocarpha, has longer soralia which continue along the margins almost without interruption.

Busy Beavers

Day 120: You know what they say: "busy as a beaver," and the ones in Ohop Valley have been busy indeed. You might think that this would be cause for concern at the Nisqually Land Trust. After all, we've gone to some expense to plant trees here, but the fact of the matter is that this is what we were planning for in the long term: that the restoration of habitat would draw wildlife into this former agricultural area. Obviously, it's working. I first noticed a beaver dam upstream of this location two years ago while mapping out a potential nature walk. I'd been seeing evidence of beaver activity for several years, mostly in the form of sapling harvesting. Some larger trees had been gnawed but not toppled, but still nothing over three inches in diameter. While on patrol a few days ago, I counted half a dozen downed trees at least five inches in diameter. I have to admit I don't know a lot about beavers' habits, except that they use branches and small trunks to build their dams. Other than a means to keep their teeth from growing too long, why does a beaver take down a tree too large to drag home? Inquiring minds want to know.

Water Under Roadway

Day 119: The sign says,"Water over roadway." I don't think that's entirely accurate at this location, although if you were to have looked in the opposite direction, it was true in another hundred feet or so and then again further down the hill. And by "hill," I am referring to a gentle decline of about 50 feet, not enough to make me gear down when I'm on my bike and climbing back up toward home. Here, the waters of a small creek come in from the north, the stream fed by runoff from taller, forested hills. A channel roughly ten feet deep on the far side of the pasture holds 12" of water during normal conditions; when flood-producing rains occur, the stream leaps its banks and races to reach the ditch shown in the photo. It continues on for another quarter mile or so where it is joined by another side channel, thence to pass through a culvert beneath the highway and into the great Nisqually. However, the ditch can't handle rains like we've had recently, and the stream gets angry when it finds its way blocked by asphalt. It pounds and digs, determined to follow its natural course. While water over the roadway may seem to be the most immediate concern, water under the roadway poses a much greater threat to motorists who can't see potholes and collapses through the turbid flow. Don't be an idiot. Turn around. Don't drown. And yes, I had already ascertained that the piece of verge supporting me when I took this photo had not been undermined.

No Nature Walk Today

Day 118: See those little orange flags? They mark one possible route for a nature walk in Ohop Valley, but maybe not today. I thought I'd run down to check my site-steward "beat" since Ohop is notorious for flooding. In fact, that was what farmers were trying to combat when they got the bright idea to straighten out its bends and curves back when settlers first settled in the valley. Much to their chagrin, it wound up having the opposite effect: by ditching the creek, they sped up its flow, and the water didn't have a chance to sink into the soil (which, it must be said, is very clayey here). Flooding increased, cattle got hoof rot from being pastured on boggy land, and the farmers finally just gave up. The Nisqually Land Trust acquired this particular piece of Ohop Valley in 2001. In 2009, they partnered with several other area conservation organizations and together, began a major project to "re-meander" the creek into something approximating its original channel. Roughly a mile and a half of new habitat was created in the process and today, although flooding occurs in times of heavy rainfall, Ohop Valley is a much better home for critters and plants. I'll be guiding a group through the valley some time this summer when I don't need to load them into canoes.