Milkweed in Flower

Day 271: The milkweed is blooming! The plants bore only a few flowers last year, and while I had hoped that an appropriate pollinator would stop by, no pods ever developed. There will be more opportunity this year, though, because there are many more flowers on plants in two patches. Surely some innocent bug will get a leg trapped long enough to pick up some pollinia. That's how milkweed works. Pollen transfer occurs in sticky packets, not dry grains. A bug's leg gets caught inside a slit in the stigma, wiggles around as the insect tries to free itself, and the sticky pollen packets (which generally occur in pairs) get tangled in the hairs on its leg. The insect then visits another milkweed flower, makes a similar mis-step, gets trapped again, and in its efforts to free itself, the pollinia comes off inside the stigma of the second plant. And it has to be a different plant. Milkweed is not self-fertile. Sidebar: I have seen a video of a botanist attempting to cross-pollinate a rare milkweed. Gives me ideas, that, and I'm sure by now, you know that I enjoy botanical match-making. Anybody thinking there might be an experiment on the horizon? Worth a try, but I might not be able to tell who was the responsible party, me or a bug. Not exactly a controlled experiment, but if I get milkweed pods, I'd be happy. Tweezers...where'd I put the dissecting tweezers?

Antique Chinese Teapot

Day 270: I believe this antique teapot is Chinese, although I have not been able to find anything similar on line. It was in my first husband's possession when I met him, and I have good reason to doubt that the story he told me about how he came by it is false. The man couldn't have told the truth if you'd asked him what he had for breakfast! I suspect it dates to the early or mid-1800s, or possibly earlier, and I would love to know more about it. The lid has always been missing. Each of the six side panels is different. One (top left) has an enormous fly near the top. The others have detail which is in light relief. Three panels include a Phoenix. The top is decorated with a dragon. The maker's mark on the bottom is legible, but since I don't read Chinese, I can't tell which way up it goes. I've never had it appraised since my connection with the world of antiques goes only so far as having been taken badly by someone who knew the value of a vase I had out at a yard sale, so I am rather reluctant to put it in anyone's hands.

Gooseberry Season

Day 269: Cherries weren't the only thing on my picking agenda day before yesterday. The gooseberries are ripening! Now let me tell you: picking gooseberries is a dangerous endeavour. The bushes are very thorny, especially on the older canes. I'd pruned out a lot of the old canes last year which made it a little easier, but it also meant I'd probably only get enough gooseberries for one batch of jam. Indeed, that's what has occurred, but the trade-off for one year is worth it to save some of my skin. Gooseberries are also a bit of a pain to process for turning into jam. Each berry has to be topped (the stem end cut off) and tailed (the blossom end removed). I prefer to cut each one in half before putting them in a container to freeze. That way, they're ready to go when cooler weather arrives and I feel like making jam. Oh, I could make jelly from them as well,, thereby saving the work of topping and tailing, but I love having bits of gooseberry in my toast spread. Why go to all this work when I could make some other kind of jam? Because gooseberry jam is my absolute most favourite! A little tart, a little sweet...perfect on homemade sourdough bread.

Pitty Party

Day 268: The property behind me has several large cherry trees on it which I believe are a hybrid of one of our native varieties and Montmorency, the "pie cherry" of old. The fruits are smaller than those of Montmorency, so small in fact that they drop clean through my cherry pitter, but whatever they may lack in size, the flavour is certainly that of a pie cherry (as opposed to a bitter cherry or a sweet cherry). The trees are heavily laden with fruit, but I know better than to trespass back there. Although the property is unoccupied, my other neighbour watches it like a hawk and is not kindly disposed toward me for political differences. However, there is one long branch which extends over the fence, and usually supplies me with enough fruit to freeze for one mid-winter pie. I picked a bowlful this morning and settled in at the kitchen table for a "pitty party," scoring each of 500 or more tiny cherries with my thumbnail so I could extract the pit. That pie is sure going to taste good in December or January!

Trust

Day 267: And then there's this. The feeling I get when a wild bird places its trust in me is indescribable. I know I am privileged to have experienced it even once, but it repeats, and not with just one species. Chickadees can be coerced into taking food from a hand. Canada Jays ("Grey Jays") will land on your head if you're having a snack on the trail. There are some wild species who are more accepting of humans than others, but if you asked any birder or ornithologist, Evening Grosbeaks would not be on their list. Pine Siskins might be, but Purple Finches would not, and there's one female who watches very carefully from nearby when my little Grosbeak friend is having lunch: "If he can do it, maybe I could, too!" I can tell she's giving the idea serious consideration. As for the Grosbeak, he is completely comfortable. He didn't even mind that I had forgotten to turn off the flash on the little silver point-and-shoot I used to take these photos. And this is how I want my friends to remember me, if for nothing else: the woman who held birds.

A Friend of a Friend

Day 266: These are Rob's photos from a couple of days ago. Some of you may have already seen them on Facebook, but since I had not yet blogged them, and since there are updates, they are my choice for today's post.

Y'see, a couple of decades ago, I rehabbed an Evening Grosbeak with a broken wing. He was in my care for a month before I returned him to the wild. I dubbed him Friend (some of you may know where to find "Friend's Story" as an adjunct to 365Caws). After his release, he returned to visit me throughout the season and, I firmly believe, the following two or three years. Since then, I have always wondered if he somehow related the circumstances of our relationship to his offspring, because almost every year, there is at least one Grosbeak who shows no fear of me. That said, the closest I had ever gotten to any of them was when Follower tagged along behind me as I went out to the garage, and I had to shoo him gently out.

That's the backstory. This little feller had already eaten out of my hand while sitting on the bird feeder, but I wasn't expecting him to get ON the hand, and especially not in front of company. It's enormously difficult to document these events, and people tend not to believe you unless they have witnessed it. But there you have it: bird in the hand, worth way more than two in the bush! Today brought another surprise. When I went out to fill the feeders, my little pal hopped onto my forearm, walked down it, took a seed from my palm and then settled in on the edge of the feeder while eating from the handful I was holding. I think I've made a friend for life...a friend, perhaps, of Friend.

Marsh Violet, Viola Palustris

Day 265: Violas are notoriously difficult to tell apart, but when I'm in the general area where Viola pluviae is known to occur, I get excited by every pale lavender member of the genus I observe. Alas, after noting several features and checking them against the description when I got home, I am sorry to say that this didn't turn out to be what I'd hoped it to be. It's good ol' Marsh Violet, Viola palustris. I have yet to find V. pluviae. Despite my disappointment, these are still a lovely little alpine species, with one or more of the three bottom petals daintily inscribed with "bee guides" in darker purple.