Sorting Out Hypogymnia

Day 138: Well! That came as a bit of a surprise! I have several Hypogymnias occupying my fence rails and had identified H. inactiva and H. pinnata previously by examining the inside of the tubular thallus. As a group, the Hypogymnias are known by the common name "tube lichens," referring to their hollow structure. Most are black on the reverse and have various degrees of black speckling on the front; some have tubes which are open at the ends, and some fork in distinctive manners. All these characteristics help separate them by species, but when it comes to the trio of inactiva, pinnata and imshaugii, surgery is required to reveal the medullary ceiling. Inactiva's ceiling is black. Pinnata's is dark, and therefore the two can be confused. However, imshaugii's medullary ceiling is white (circular inset). I'm glad I checked! And thus a new name has been conferred upon part of my garden: the Imshaugii Rail.

Undeniable Evidence

Day 137: If this scene fails to inspire you to break out the seed catalogs, you're beyond all hope of redemption. Snow or no, the daffodils are solid evidence that Spring is on the way, and every year, their white-petalled, orange-cupped blossoms bring up a discussion of the differences between daffodils, narcissi and jonquils. Okay, let's lay the facts on the table.

To start with, all three terms fall under the scientific name of Narcissus. Colloquially (and therefore not strictly speaking "correctly"), "daffodil" refers to the larger-flowered varieties with long trumpets. Likewise, "narcissus" covers small-flowered species with short trumpets or cups. "Jonquil" refers to those plants which bear more than one flower per stem (again, colloquially). "So what about miniatures? And the ones with half-length trumpets?" you ask. "Narcissi," I reply, because I always default to the scientific name if there's any doubt when someone is asking me for an "official" determination. I'm not fond of common names. They are often shared among completely unrelated species, and can exhibit quite a variety of regional permutations (i.e., Texas "bluebonnets" are a lupine under a pseudonym). Still, no matter what you call them, they announce the arrival of Spring in full voice, a glad invocation against winter's thrall.

La Cebolla

Day 136: Me gusta la cebolla. Ellas comen las cebollas. La cebolla no es un animale, es un vegetale. Yes, I am back practicing Spanish again. I have a decent vocabulary, but my grammar is appalling. The simplest things like "who," "which" and "how" trip me up. I can make my verbs agree with their subjects and my sentence structure is reasonably good, but those little words need a lot more practice, and to that end, I have signed on with DuoLingo. The site was recommended to me by a native speaker who teaches intermediate and advanced classes in the same building as Morris dance practice. When I arrived early a few weeks ago, I sat outside the door listening in. When I spoke with her afterwards, she suggested DuoLingo as a prerequisite for her intermediate class. Oh, how I would love to become fluent!

DuoLingo lets you go at your own pace, and allows you to return to earlier lessons for practice. The student is asked to type in responses. Sometimes, an unmistakable visual clue is given; other times, you are given a sentence and asked to translate it to or from Spanish. By typing in the words over and over, the spellings and tenses are drilled into your head without the need for painful memorization. I'm finding it quite an enjoyable way to learn a second language (or in my case, refine one I'd already begun to study). They offer courses in many other languages as well...and KLINGON is in the works! That will be my next project.

Gardening In Miniature

Day 135: It's well-known that I am a complete failure when it comes to growing vegetables, but have a reasonable amount of success with flowers. I tend the flowerbeds fairly regularly in spring, keeping them weed-free until summer activities distract me from their care. I water during hot spells, seldom otherwise, and have identified certain species which are capable of surviving my lackadaisical treatment. That said, my garden is generally a riot of colour from June through September, if completely devoid of anything which might be called organization or scheme. However, in addition to enjoying blooming annuals and perennials, I take equal delight in the miniature landscapes which occupy the cedar split-rail fence: mosses and lichens of all shapes and sizes. Not a dry day passes that I don't stop to look more closely at one of my "garden-variety" lichens when I walk out to get the mail or feed the birds. It pleases me as much to see a colony of Cladonia coniocraea flourishing as it does to have nasturtiums cascading from a hanging basket or cosmos nodding over the sidewalk.

So Far, So Good

Day 134: The first signs of a successful relocation are beginning to show on the gooseberries. I moved them last spring from a site where they had been most unhappy and unproductive, shaded out by a hawthorn tree I wish I'd never planted. Oh, the hawthorn provides fruit for the birds, but it is aggressive and over 15 feet tall. I'd take it out, but can't figure out how to cut it down without risking impalement by its thorns. The gooseberries are thorny as well, but in theory will pay for their right to scratch me by providing enough tart fruit for a jar of jam or two some day. If they're not happy in their new home, I'll move them to pots and grow them like the blueberries. Yep, I'm already thinking about digging more holes in my yard!

Here It Comes!

Day 133: Spring is beginning! The first of my pussywillows popped about two weeks ago, and although the tree doesn't have a lot on it yet, the signs of the season are there to see, right outside my kitchen window. Other portents are emerging: 3-4" daffodil shoots, a few curly tulip leaves, threads of grape hyacinth. It's happening. Spring is coming! But wait...what are those white things drifting down? Sigh. Ma Nature is playing tricks on me again.

Totality 2-26-1979

Day 132: In case any of my readers have missed the announcement, a total eclipse of the sun will be visible in a 60-mile wide ribbon which will travel across the country roughly from Lincoln City, OR, to South Carolina on August 21, 2017. The last time a total eclipse was visible in the continental US was on February 26, 1979. I had the great good fortune to be able to view it from the Stonehenge replica at Maryhill, WA. That was when I captured this image using a Mamiya-Sekor 1000 DTL and Kodachrome film (ASA unknown). The slides have deteriorated over the last 38 years, but despite imperfections and grain, still show the corona and multiple prominences.

Although we noticed the "eclipse wind" and sudden drop in air temperature, my husband and I didn't witness any of the other phenomena which sometimes occur during totality, but perhaps that was because we didn't know to look for them. Viewers have reported shimmering bands of darkness on light-coloured ground, other-worldly super-saturation of colours and intense, crisply-edged shadows, but these only occur over a span of minutes, and if your attention is focused on the sky, you may miss them.

Partiality will be visible to a wider audience in a 140-mile wide band, but weather and circumstance permitting, I hope to be in the path of total darkness in August, camera and telescope on hand. It will be the last chance I have to see a total eclipse in my lifetime.