Fiber Frolics

Day 238: Despite the fact that I don't feel as if I'm spending any more time at fiber arts than usual, a mound of completed projects is growing almost daily. Admittedly, my attention span is quite short these days: ten minutes at the loom, a row or two of crochet, half a dozen rolags spun into yarn, two or three threads put into Mousie's quilt pushing the limits of my focus, but as they say, "a little of this, a little of that" adds up. Some unrelated crafts are interdependent, e.g, in order to spin more single-strand white wool for plying, I have to wind plied wool onto the warping board to free up spindles. To do so means that I have to remove the measured warp for my next weaving project from the warping board, and I can't do that until I get the current project off the floor loom. Perhaps this is why we speak of "web" in so many fiber arts. My studio space (crafts room, living room and to some extent kitchen) would make Arachne proud.

Joyful Adenium

Day 237: I began my small collection (three, if the truth be told) of Adeniums with "Joyful," and it does a good job of living up to its name. This is the reward adenium fans get for tending a few leaves at the top of a potful of sticks: glorious outsized flowers which last a week or two before they begin to fade. The plants come into bloom two or three times each year, to be followed by a period of new foliage development. Almost invariably, one layer of leaves will drop as the stalk hardens and becomes more woody at the points of attachment, leaving the Adenium aficionado with taller sticks and roughly the same number of leaves. A succulent caudex forms at the base of the plant, a swollen stump from which the stems arise. Hybrid plants (those bred for their showy flowers) generally do not develop a caudex and are grafted onto non-hybrid stock. A desert plant, Adenium likes its soil on the dry side. During the non-blooming period, watering should only be done when the pot feels light when it is lifted. During the flowering period, watering can be increased, but soil should still be kept on the dry side. Adeniums demand phosphorus to flourish, but are sensitive to other fertilizer salts. If your plant drops too many leaves or if the leaves are wrinkled or discoloured, flush the soil thoroughly with water and then allow it to dry almost completely before watering again.

Fuligo Septica

Day 236: Not far from home but in a trailless wooded area, there is a short stump of small diameter which bears three...count them, three...species of slime mold. The first two have been featured in other posts this last week; the third erupted in full-blown glory in the space of two days, and I discovered it yesterday. It is Fuligo septica, commonly called "Dog-Vomit" which, however apt, does not do its intricate structure justice. Admittedly, I have never seen one quite as lacy as this specimen, a factor which caused me to seek expert help to confirm my identification. The mass is the size of a large grapefruit, and exists side by side with Ceratiomyxa and Lycogala, making me wonder just what is so attractive about that particular stump that three slime molds have chosen it as the center for their conventions. Yesterday I spent quite a bit of time clambering over fallen logs, pushing my way through tangled branches, choosing the placement of my feet carefully so that I didn't land on my back, and in several acres of forest, I found only a few other examples of slime molds, all within 200' of Ground Zero. Nothing unusual about the micro-ecology called out to my human perceptions, no plant associations registered with me although the area is rich in Oxalis, no dominance of evergreen or softwood, no nuance of ambient light. I found each of the three species separately, Ceratiomyxa over here, Lycogala over there and a small Fuligo in another spot, but not with one another except at this stump where all three flourish. We know that slime molds are capable of communication among their individual cells, but are the members of one species able to read the signals broadcast by those of another breed? Our knowledge of slimes is fairly limited, but with advances in science, we may eventually find answers to questions we didn't even know to ask, and that's a thought which makes me wish I was fifty years younger.

Key Perspective On Ceratiomyxa

Day 235: I try to accommodate my loyal readers whenever possible, so in response to a request and despite what I said day before yesterday, here are more photos of Ceratiomyxa fruticulosa var. poroides, the top with a key to give a sense of scale because I forgot my measurin' stick again. Now I must point out that this is not the same Ceratiomyxa I've been photographing over the last week. No, this is a brand-new outcropping on a different log about 60 feet away. It was not visible day before yesterday, so the little buggers must have been putting in double shifts in order to build such an extensive slime-tropolis. The original colony is beginning to deteriorate, as is the Lycogala on the same stump. However, the other side of the stump has erupted with a third slime-mold species which of course I will be trying to identify as it develops.

Galium Odoratum, Non-Native Bedstraw

Day 234: In case you missed the update I added to yesterday's post, my observation of Ceratiomyxa fruticulosa var. poroides documented a new species of slime mold for Mount Rainier National Park, bringing the list total to 54. For being in voluntary isolation, I'm having a surprisingly good year, botanically speaking. As my readers are aware, I live for the joy of discovery, but sometimes...well, sometimes I locate species I'd rather not have found, case in point: Galium odoratum, a non-native Bedstraw.

A casual observer might not have given this species of Cleavers a second look, but something didn't seem right to me when I focused on it a couple of years back. There were too many leaflets on the stem, 8-10 in most cases, with 11 on some. That ruled out G. aparine which normally bears 8. I checked my references, double-checked, and then sent a photo off to the collections manager of the Burke Herbarium for expert confirmation. He verified my ID, and asked me where I'd found it since it was a non-native species and somewhat invasive (although not listed as such with the state). I was a little ashamed to tell him the location, but confessed in the name of science, "In my back yard." Native or non-native, Bedstraw is not one of my favourite plants. It grabs ankles when you're walking through it, leaves your socks covered in "Velcro" burrs when it's in seed, and it seems to be a magnet for ticks in a wide variety of environments from dry SW Washington prairie to damp forest edges. Short of using herbicide or spending all the rest of my life pulling it, I have no idea how to get rid of it.

Rebuilding A Civilization

Day 233: I promise this will be my last post of Ceratiomyxa for a while, but this is worth note. I don't know what I expected when I returned to the site less than 24 hours later, but a complete and even more elegant rebuilding of the civilization was not on the short list. I'm sure one of those minor "earthquakes" shaking Washington's seismographs was caused by my jaw hitting the forest floor. Not only had the Ceratiomyxa regenerated, it had done so in true "Doctor Who" style, retaining elements of its former persona while simultaneously establishing its own individual mark. The pillars built by the cooperating cells had become even more elaborate and textured than when I had first seen it, a greater and more glorious Phoenix arising from the ashes of its former existence. The solitary Lycogala nub in the midst of its metropolis even seemed to be drawing some sustenance and substance from the association. It was, in fact, the only remaining pink/orange member of the dozens of others I surveyed. The rest had turned brown. I regret not putting a measuring stick up against the specimen because my readers undoubtedly have misjudged the size of this magnificent slime mold. The largest mound would measure no more than 4 mm and the individual hexagonal compartments of the structure 0.05 mm at the very largest. This mass in the photo frame measures roughly 7 mm wide by 18 mm high.

Update: I am pleased to report that this occurrence of Ceratiomyxa was the first reported on Park property. The Park's official slime mold species count is now 54.

Ceratiomyxa After The Rain

Day 232: A rather dramatic electrical storm and hard rains kept me from checking up on the Ceratiomyxa until a full day had elapsed. As I had expected, the colony had begun to deteriorate, and even the associated Lycogala was merely a shadow of its former self. The slime mold had had its day. Its population had come together to feed and breed, and its constructs...the pillars and towers which were its signature structure had fairly shone in the peak of its glory. Perhaps it was already beginning to collapse at its core when I first observed it; in any event, it did not weather the storm well, and its protist civilization collapsed, leaving behind an amorphous mass of confused and decaying cells. Those which have survived and the offspring of those which bred successfully must now retreat into the protection of their deteriorated stump, there to try to recover until they can rebuild.

Hang on a minute...did you just see a metaphor run through here?