The Berry Pen

Day 206: Last year's garden was close to a total failure due to a late cold snap which was followed almost immediately by a very hot, dry spell. The only real success story was in my gooseberry crop which yielded up enough for two full batches of jam. The currants (left) were hit by disease and had to be pruned radically to remove infected branches, and consequently bore not a single berry to add colour to the mix. On the other hand, the gooseberries (right) produced a record number of fruits, to the point that at the very end of the season, I left a few on the bushes for the birds to enjoy. The Berry Pen is in full flower now, and if the weather cooperates, I should get fruit from both this year.

Sparrow Dipped In Raspberry Juice

Day 205: For all of the fact that David Sibley's bird illustrations are often even better than real life because he has placed subtle emphasis on critical field identification points, you cannot beat Roger Tory Peterson's lyrical descriptions. Take Purple Finch (Haemorhous purpureus) for example. Of its colouration, Peterson says that it looks like a "sparrow dipped in raspberry juice." How apt! Without its pinkish wash, this bird would be just one more LBJ ("Little Brown Job"), and indeed the females are just that, although their heavier bills will clue observant birders into their true nature. Both Sibley and Peterson point to the blurry breast markings to distinguish this species from House Finch. I say, "Houses have shingles," i.e., strong brown flecks on the breast, whereas Purples look like their dye jobs ran down their shirt fronts in the rain. Cassin's (another similar species) could almost be said to be a blend of the two. It has streaked flanks only slightly lighter than those of House Finch, but the blurry breast markings of Purple. A trained eye can distinguish brighter red on Cassin's crown, although this feature is fairly difficult to detect. Good luck to you if you live in an area where the ranges overlap as they do here!

Nepps

Day 204: I'm going to blame it on stress. My guiding rule about having no more than one project of any particular type in progress at the same time seems to have flown right out the window. Not only is my spinning wheel busy, I have yarn on one supported spindle and five...count them, five!...active drop spindles. Admittedly, two of the latter hold "leftovers," the bits I clean out of the carders when changing colours which therefore can't be spun in the worsted method I prefer, but still usable spun as woolen.

I have been wanting to spin some "confetti" yarn for the longest time, but was having trouble finding multicoloured nepps. Now, "nepps" is a word most of you won't recognize unless you've heard me talk about them before. Also spelled with one p, nepps are defined as "hopelessly entangled knots of fiber" which isn't as bad a thing as it sounds, at least in the right circumstances. Nepps can give a wonderful texture to a finished yarn, as well as visual interest. Since I couldn't find mixed-colour wool nepps through any of my suppliers, I went with a second option: a prepared wool/bamboo top with the nepps already built in, albeit only in two colours. I decided to spin the fiber on a drop spindle because it's slower, giving me broader opportunities to spread out any recalcitrant neppy concentrations as I go along.

Snowflakes In May

Day 203: I don't mind snowflakes in May at all, as long as they're of the Leucojum persuasion! Strongly resembling Snowdrops on steroids, Snowflakes are taller, the flowering stalks rising about a foot from ground level. The foliage is proportionately larger as well. The flowers are not borne as densely as those of Snowdrops, but again, they're bigger. Mine share a pot with the Fritillary Lilies and bloom at approximately the same time. Snowflakes of the other sort...the cold, wet kind...will not find a welcome here in May, but these may come in drifts as deep as they please and will never hear me object.

Parrot Season

Day 202: They're here, and they think they're starving! Yes, both species of "parrots" have returned to my feeders in droves. The amount of seed these birds can put away never ceases to amaze me. Sitting in the chair closest to the closed double-pane window, my ears are assailed by the sound of seeds being cracked continuously. It's not unlike the crackle of a fire on a chilly winter day, and equally warming to my spirit. Black-headed Grosbeaks (Pheucticus melanocephalus, left) sing a melodious carol; Evening Grosbeaks (Coccothraustes/Hesperiphona vespertinus/a, right) speak a strong "CHURP!" to voice appreciation for the ready supply of black-oil sunflower seed I provide. Of all the birds in my yard, hand-sitters aside, none gives me as great pleasure as my horde of "parrots."

Hummers' Delight

Day 201: The planting hummingbird and pollinator gardens has achieved great popularity in recent years. Who wouldn't want to help the birds and bees? However, there is a factor which receives very little discussion proportionately, and that is that by selecting non-native plants, we actually may be doing more harm than good. Y'see, native species of things kinda go hand-in-hand. A certain type of bee is drawn to a certain type of plant for a reason. Perhaps the plant has developed a unique structure which only that bee can reach. The plant benefits because the bee pollinates it. The bee benefits because the plant provides a nutritional source. The plant is dependent upon the specific bee, although the bee is not so restricted. Given another more easily accessible means of obtaining nectar, the bee may forgo visiting the plant which is dependent on it. Non-native species can be (and often are) stronger attractors of insects. By drawing the pollinators to them, the native species go neglected, and therefore cannot reproduce. A notorious example of a strong attractor would be Buddleia, commonly called Butterfly Bush. The name says it all. Its scent draws butterflies from far and wide, pulling them away from the native plants they should be visiting. Likewise, Elephant-head Pedicularis is buzz-pollinated by specific bee species whose wings vibrate at exactly the right frequency to initiate pollen release. If non-native plants make up the bulk of your landscaping, you're creating the equivalent of wall-to-wall fast-food joints for pollinators. Give them some healthier options with natives. Rufous Hummingbirds love our Red-flowering Currants here in the Pacific Northwest.

Mystery Object

Day 200: Some of my older readers may know what purpose this unusual object served in its day, although I am willing to bet that few of them know its proper name. It is roughly 7" tall (not counting the handle), 9" wide at the base tapering to 8" at the top, and has a red plastic liner 5" deep and 6" wide. The liner is not removable without loosening several screws which hold it in place. I use it to hold small balls of prepared wool top for spinning, since I'm sure that Tippy would love to play with them if he was given the chance. Oddly, I do not remember how I came into possession of a firkin, but there it sits, having found a second calling in fiberarts, its days of holding butter gone with the last moo of someone's family cow. In some households, it was more commonly called a "butter box." As near as I can tell from my research into the style and construction, it dates from 1900-1910.