The Calocera Cornea Club

Day 48: Per "Mushrooms of the Pacific Northwest" by Steve Trudell and Joe Ammirati, the growth of Calocera cornea "in large troops on rotting logs and small size set it apart from the other club-fungi." Just how small? Well, I didn't have a penny, so used a dime instead to show that the tallest of these might have reached a towering 4 mm. I discovered it along the Hugo Peak Trail in Pack Forest, first time I have observed it there. The species is not uncommon and occurs around the globe, fruiting in late summer and autumn. A member of the order Dacrymycetales, it is characterized by the Y-shape of its basidia (spore-producing bodies). Despite the similarity in appearance to the coral fungi, DNA analysis has shown that the clubs form a second, unrelated evolutionary group. It's a private club, no corals allowed.

Short Pack Walk

Day 47: At a loss for a blog post but having a parcel which needed to be mailed from a larger post office, I took a brief detour to Pack Forest for a short walk. I had only gone a little way on the Hugo Peak trail when my phone rang. Kevin was done setting up my new laptop (or at least he thought he was), and asked if I'd like to stop by to pick it up. I'd already gotten a few pictures, although none of them was of anything new or particularly exciting, so I asked him to give me an hour and continued up the trail. That didn't leave time to get up Hugo, so I snapped this scenic view from one of the few open spaces and shortly thereafter, discovered a colony of fungi which will appear in tomorrow's post. No, the computer didn't make it home with me yet, but we're close.

Such A Puzzle!

Day 46: When the contorted filbert is fully leafed out, it provides excellent habitat for the assortment of bird species which come to my feeders, but even after the leaves have dropped, it forms a tangle through which no hunting hawk can pass quickly enough to snatch a songbird. The little guys can navigate among the twisted branches with ease, and usually, the jays are alert to any danger. One alarm call, and all the small birds disappear into the heart of the bush, warily emerging once the hawk has left. Now decorated with a lush crop of catkins, the tree puts me in mind of another type of puzzle: jigsaw! Wouldn't this Spotted Towhee make a wicked 1000-piece challenge?

Saved By The Ball

Day 45: It's the time of the year when my crafting thoughts turn from delicate lace and hand-sewing and lean instead toward the warm and cozy end of the spectrum, i.e., the bulkier work of socks, hats, mittens and gloves. I've turned out several afghans for the Park's Christmas auction and have gotten thoroughly tired of crochet, so I thought I'd knit a stocking cap. I grabbed a full skein of yarn from my stash without paying attention to the number of ounces in it. I mean, there was enough, more than enough, so why worry? I finished the hat and eyed the remaining ball. "Hmmmmm," sez I, "I wonder if there's enough in there for mittens?" Weighing it, it seemed like there might be, but there was definitely no "wiggle room." I reeled it all off into a pile in order to measure the yardage. Yeah, it would be close, but I still wasn't sure. The only option remaining was to make a "trial mitten." I marked the halfway point with a knot, in the knowledge that if I got to it before I got to the end of the mitten, I'd be unravelling a day's work .

After working the trial mitten up through the thumb gusset, I measured again this morning. It was looking a little scant. I cussed myself for making a wide turnback on the hat, hindsight being so much clearer than foresight. Another forty yards would have made the difference, just a few rows left off the hat. On the off chance that I might have a small ball of the same yarn tucked in with my "short balls" (leftovers from other projects), I went digging. Lo and behold, at the bottom of one of the plastic storage containers I found a WHOLE 'NOTHER SKEIN of the same yarn. You might say the impromptu mitten portion of this project was "saved by the ball."

Decorative Edge

Day 44: Knitters, crocheters and lace-makers will be familiar with the term "picot" as it refers to a decorative edge. The French word by itself means "pin," and refers to a lace-making technique which twists threads and winds them around a pin to leave a small loop when the finished lace is taken off the pillow. In knitting and crocheting, something similar is executed in various manners depending on the work. In horticulture, the word undergoes a slight change when it is applied to petals with a distinct border and becomes "picotee," i.e., a flower with a fancy edging. This type of colouration is often seen in begonias, dianthus, ranunculus, cosmos and others, and petunias commonly exhibit this marking in striking reverse to display a distinctly white edge on a richly coloured trumpet. A picotee Zygocactus is a festive addition to any holiday mantel!

Schizophyllum Commune, Split-Gill Fungus

Day 43: Geocache aside, my best find from yesterday's exploits was Schizophyllum commune. Arguably the "world's most common fungus," I had never observed this species until a few years ago when a friend found it on her property and invited me over to identify it. Yesterday's discovery was only the second location in which I've seen it in full fruit. These specimens were a little rain-worn and not as pinkish as they would have been otherwise.

Known also as "split-gill fungus," this species' common name reflects a characteristic unusual in fungi. If you look closely, you can see that some of the ribs are split lengthwise. These "gills" open in response to wet conditions, releasing basidiospores when conditions are optimal for propagation. They close again during dry periods. New Split-Gills erupt only in the autumn; older specimens will dry out during the summer months and then rehydrate when the rainy season begins. Dry, they will resemble small grey polypores (shelf fungi), but examination of the underside with a hand lens will reveal their true identity.

OptOutside

Day 42: You don't have to twist my arm to get me to #OptOutside on Black Friday or any other day, for that matter. However, I do prefer to go when the rain isn't coming down in buckets, so I postponed this adventure until this morning when I thought I could squeeze the hike in between downpours. That's not to say I wasn't anticipating an abundance of water en route. That was unavoidable, given the amount of rain we've had this week. Consequently, I went prepared with waders, a trekking pole, and of course the camera and tripod. I had four crossings to make to reach a geocache, and this (the second one) was the deepest. The fourth one took me by surprise. Since my last visit, the beavers have been busy. I had to bushwhack through a tangle of snowberry bushes in order to get below their dam. The water has pooled above the dam to a depth which probably would have gone above my chest waders. Go on, tell me you had more fun pounding the pavement at the mall and parting with enormous amounts of your hard-earned money! I'm not going to believe you.