Wintergreen

Day 322: Just beside my front steps, I cultivate a small patch of wintergreen for no other purpose than to have a small mid-winter treat waiting for me when I'm on my way to the mailbox. The bright red berries of this low groundcover plant ripen in late December, and never do I pick more than two for my snack. They have a natural sweetness which needs no additional sugar, and their refreshing taste is light and fragrant, truly the pick-me-up needed on a gloomy winter afternoon.

Hedge Morning Glory, Convolvulus Sepium

Day 321: The Hedge Morning Glory or Bindweed is described in some field guides as "rampant" or "pernicious." Larger than its cousin, Field Bindweed, it has a more twining habit and "forms hedge-like growths over other vegetation and objects." A single vine may extend up to eight feet. Youngsters of my era loved to gather the deep white cups which, when inverted, look like skirts for the faerie folk.

Hoverfly On Rosy Spiraea

Day 320: Hoverflies (locally referred to as "tiger flies") are a common sight in the alpine areas of western Washington. These bee mimics often suspend in mid-air, going almost nose to nose with hikers travelling through their territory. They are harmless, although the uninitiated frequently panic when coming upon a meadow thick with Rosy Spiraea (Spiraea densiflora, aka Subalpine Spiraea), one of the insects' favorite resting places. Unlike the deerflies and blackflies which are also present in alpine meadows, hoverflies do not bite. If one seems to be standing its ground six inches before your face, just take another step to send it on its way.

All Hope Abandoned

Day 319: It is not going to happen. Despite a week of days in the mid-80s, the nights in the Pacific Northwest have been cooler than usual for the season, and of course this follows an unusually cold and damp spring and early summer. My cherry tomatoes are just now coming into bloom, just now when the threat of first frost is less than a month away. Sweet Million has always been a good producer for me, the wisdom being that cherry tomatoes ripen more quickly than their larger cousins. Early Girls and Beefy Boys are out of the question here at the foot of Mt. Rainier. It wasn't that I failed to get them into the ground in time, no. I put them there, and there they sat, not putting on a single leaf in June. I fertilized and cajoled, but still they sat, unwilling to reach toward the sunless sky. For once, I do not have to say I failed for lack of gardening expertise. This time, I can truthfully blame it on the weather. I'll be fortunate if Sweet Million gives me a Tart Ten for ripening on the counter.

Woodland Skipper, Ochlodes Sylvanoides

Day 318: Never one to pass up a good thing, I headed back over to the new boat ramp at the east end of Riffe Lake today to see if the butterflies were out and about again. They had been numerous three days ago, but three days is a long time in the life of these ephemeral winged creatures. As I walked down the concrete ramp, only a few rose at my feet, but when I reached the bottom and the edge of the water, the Woodland Skippers were simply thick in the air. There were hundreds of them!

The Woodland Skipper is a little thing with a wingspan of an inch or less. They have a peculiar morphology in that the forewings are held at a 45-degree angle to the horizontal hindwings like some strange type of experimental aircraft. Their bodies are stocky, and their antennae seem short by comparison with other butterflies.

Skippers such as these are very common in western Washington, both in urban and rural areas. They are most active in late summer and early autumn, as evidenced today at the boat ramp.

A Canadian Residency

Day 317: I've been putting off photographing Canada Thistles (Cirsium arvense) because...well, because who wants to look at one of Washington's worst invasive weeds? That said, thistles have their own brand of beauty, particularly the huge Scotch thistles which look almost like small artichokes. However, if humans hate thistles, other creatures find them appealing.

I did not realize my Canada thistle was occupied when I shot the image. As usual, I had zoomed in from some distance to make my "close-up." It wasn't until I got the photos into the computer that I realized someone had taken up a Canadian residency, and was hanging around waiting for breakfast.

Love-In-A-Mist, Nigella

Day 316: Love-in-a-mist is a garden favorite which rewards long after its season is through if the gardener picks the unopened seed pods with long stems and hangs them upside-down to dry. The fine leaves will curl around the balloon-like pod creating a lacy effect for dried arrangments. In the bed, the flowers may be white, yellow, pink or even light blue, and are lovely when grown among Centaurea montana. Easy to grow, Nigella can be started indoors to prolong the blooming season.

Satyr Comma, Polygonia Satyrus

Day 315: The new public boat ramp at the east end of Riffe Lake proved to be a haven for at least three species of butterfly on this warm, sunny day, the showiest of which were the Commas. These are fairly large insects with a wingspan of approximately two and a half inches. The ragged edge is characteristic of the species. In flight, they are easy to spot, but as you can see from the inset, when their wings are folded, their camouflage is astonishingly good. The white "comma" on the ventral side of the hind wing gives them their name.
Updated to correct identification per BugGuide.net.

Great Spangled Fritillary, Speyeria Cybele

Day 314: As I started to open the back door this morning, I spotted a large orange butterfly at rest on the Echinacea which grows in the strawberry jar at the edge of the steps. Before I could get the camera, it had flown, but it wasn't long before I noticed another one (or perhaps the same one) flitting around the yard. I tried sneaking up on it, but it refused to settle on any plant. I gave it up as a lost cause, but when I returned to the porch, there was another one (couldn't have been the same one) perched on the Echinacea. Before I could get the camera raised, it took flight. I could see this was not going to be an easy project, but it had promise. I went inside to get the tripod and when I got back, yep, there was another one sitting on the Echinacea. I opened the door and...well, I didn't think this was going to be easy.

The fact that all three butterflies had shown a preference for one particular Echinacea blossom was encouraging. I set up the tripod and focused the camera on the flower. I had to wait about ten minutes before another one came by, but it landed on the same blossom, unfortunately facing me so I couldn't get a good dorsal view.

Lest I bore you with repeats of essentially the same scenario as they occurred over the next half hour, let me simply cut to the chase and present to you the Great Spangled Fritillary, Speyeria cybele, who prefers a habitat of moist meadows and forests. I have both, and apparently a large number of these large orange patrons also enjoy a bit of Echinacea from time to time.

Red Huckleberries

Day 313: Nobody believes me when I jokingly tell them that these are red blueberries, but essentially it's true. Our wild blueberries are members of the Vaccinium species as are their red cousins here.

Vaccinium parvifolium is a plant familiar to anyone who spends time in the woods in the Pacific Northwest. It grows on decaying wood and is often found sprawling over the tops of old stumps, the bushes reaching heights of 10 feet or more when fully established. The red berries are delicious when eaten out of the hand, but make a rather watery jelly which requires additional pectin to get a good "set." They can also be dried for snacking, or reconstituted as an additive for muffins and pancakes. The plants generally bear prolifically, as shown here.

Mount Rainier

Day 312: On my way home from my fishing buddy's 91st birthday celebration this evening, I stopped at Dogwood Park just outside of Eatonville to snap this classic view of Mt. Rainier. It was not intended to be an exceptional photo, simply one which pays homage to the figure which has played such a role in defining who I am. Some things transcend words. The Mountain is one of them.

Cercyonis Pegala, Common Wood Nymph

Day 311: The Common Wood Nymph (Cercyonis pegala) is also referred to as the Large Wood Nymph to distinguish it from the Lesser. Go figure. It's anothe one of those nightmarish examples of multiple common names which result in so much confusion. That said, the Wood Nymphs are a confusing species because they are genetically unstable, which is to say that there is quite a bit of variation in outward appearance in any local population. Today I witnessed what might well have been two different "brands" of butterfly mating, i.e., a rosy dark individual and a much lighter one with smaller ocelli (eye spots).

The Wood Nymphs are aptly named. They prefer to perch on bark or soil which matches their coloration, or in hollows in the grass where shadows are deepest. A common sight in woodland areas, my yard is full of these dusky beauties.

Mineral Water

Day 310: I often visit Mineral Lake in search of photo opportunities because it is home to a wide variety of birds, bugs, plants and critters. Nine times out of ten, if I leave home with something specific in mind, I will find myself returning with something unexpected: a loon, otters, mating dragonflies or even the occasional character shot of an angler trying his luck. Today I swung by with a mind to shooting a particularly interesting piece of wood which is marked with the hieroglyphics of beetles and a work of art in its own right, but as I leaned over the railing of the dock, I was momentarily blinded by the sparkles dancing on the agitated water. I made several captures looking almost straight down and among them found this spectacular constellation in the universe below my feet.

Dianthus Armeria, Grass Pink

Day 309: On the heels of yesterday's feature of Centaurium umbellatum, it was fortuitous that I should stumble across this specimen of Grass Pink during a foray into the pasture across the road last night. I returned today to photograph it in the sunlight.

Field guides caution observers regarding resemblance to Common Centaury because the flowers often arise in similar loosely organized heads. The distinguishing points are the toothed and spotted petals of Grass Pink, absent in Centaury. This species is a non-native plant which escaped the gardens of our early settlers. Perhaps the seeds of this plant's forebears strayed from my own yard a hundred years ago.

Centaurium Umbellatum, Common Centaury

Day 308: For all of this pretty little plant's nomenclature, Common Centaury was not so common that I knew what it was when observing it for the first time a few years ago. In fact, it was previously so uncommon that most field guides omitted it. After failing to find it listed in any of the volumes on my proverbial "five-foot bookshelf," I resorted to contacting an expert who provided me with the identification. Since that time, I have seen it spread rather prodigiously in Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest where this specimen was photographed near the summit of Hugo Peak. It is a member of the same family as Gentians, and its florets exhibit the same habit of spiralling closed when nightfall or bad weather approaches.

Southwest Washington Prairie

Day 307: For almost 18 years, I lived on one of Southwest Washington's open prairies. "Prairies?" you ask. Yes, prairies. Although Western Washington is known for its incessant rain, the glacial till which comprises the soils south of Olympia will hold very little water. The land is unsuitable for farming, although cattle ranchers have had some small success here, albeit with heavy supplemental feeding of their stock, but by and large, the prairie is a place of meager grass, stands of Douglas fir and Garry oak, and wildflowers which you will find nowhere else in the state. It is a haven for birds of many sorts, from pheasants and grouse to rare warblers.

Today I bicycled through the prairie, reminiscing over the years I spent in a tiny pioneer-style house with a water supply which relied solely on rainfall, and my conclusion was that those were some of the best years of my life. The prairie edges into your soul as surely as the mountains do.

Eight-Spotted Skimmer, Libellula Forensis

Day 306: The dragonflies and damselflies were out in abundance at Mineral Lake this afternoon, frolicking and and dancing above the water. I observed many mating pairs of these "mosquito hawks," moreso than usual. Whether this is a phenomenon associated with the cool summer temperatures or not, I am unable to say, but it bodes well for a good crop of young. Dragonflies are essential predators in the natural order of things, eating not only mosquitoes but other small insects as well. This is Libellula forensis, the Eight-Spotted Skimmer.

Pieris Marginalis, Margined White

Day 305: Pieris marginalis is a plain butterfly, its only real distinguishing feature being the dark leading edge of the forewing. A member of the family of Cabbage Whites, this pale beauty prefers shady, cool areas and are often the most early to be spotted in the Spring. This particular specimen preferred Hawkweed to Horseradish as a landing zone, although it tried the latter repeatedly.

Eighty Feet Up, Plus Two

Day 304: Although I've lived in the area for over twenty years, I had never attended the Morton Loggers' Jubilee. With a cool but pleasant day in the offing, it seemed like a good time to remedy that.

Now I'm not one for crowds. I left home early, found parking close to the main street and vendors' booths. The parade consisted of over 100 "floats," at least a quarter of which were log trucks from timber companies who work the forests hereabouts. Parade notwithstanding, the real reason I'd decided to attend was to watch the logging competitions, double-bucking, springboard chop, obstacle cut and log rolling. Speed climbing was another feature, contestants scrambling to the top of two eighty-foot spar poles in the center of the arena.

Between speed climbing events, I happened to notice a somewhat slower climber ascending ten feet at a time with big pauses in between bursts of activity. When he reached the halfway point, the announcer brought the crowd's attention to him as well. Dressed as an old-time logger, he was not a clown, but it was clear that his routine was the comic relief. Up the spar pole he went, and when he reached the top, he pulled himself onto the apex and sat for a while. Then he drank a beer, unclipped himself from his safety harness and stood upright on the tip of the pole. Next, he drew out a a handful of balls and juggled, and after putting them away, he danced. And then, as if to cap the event, he did a headstand. Onlookers assumed the show was over, but at the edge of the arena, his aggrieved wife entered the scene with a make-believe shotgun. When the shot was fired, our high climber tumbled from the pole spectacularly...and zip-lined to the ground.

I didn't catch his name, but the same man has been performing at the Jubilee for 35 years. By my calculations, he'd have to be at least 55 years old. Tough guys, those loggers.

Magenta Morning

Day 303: I stepped out into the golden light of morning, birdseed buckets in hand and wondering what the day might bring for my "blog shot," as I call these entries in 365 Caws. There at the edge of my kitchen stoop was a plant I take for granted, at least until its leaves begin to sag from lack of water, at which point I douse it with a spritz from the watering can. Against the Purple Wall of Clematis, the Echinacea's lighter petals seemed to express the joy of morning, the rosy tones dispensing sunlight by the bloomful, begging for visits from bee and butterfly alike. I could not deny the pull of these radiant blooms, and set the birdseed down in favor of the camera lest the moment pass.

Bird's-foot Trefoil, Lotus Corniculatus

Day 302: Closely related to the clovers, Bird's-foot Trefoil is a member of the pea family. Despite its name, it carries five leaves, two of which clasp the stalk while the remaining three rise above them. It is an introduced species which escaped pastures where it was under cultivation as a forage plant for cattle and other ruminants. In some references, it is called Deer Vetch. A pretty roadside plant which forms tight clusters, in some areas it is considered invasive.

Gilia Capitata, Globe Gilia

Day 301: Although Gilia capitata is native to western Washington, this particular specimen came to me courtesy of a packet of wildflower seeds in blue shades. It is a prairie plant, preferring an open habitat and dry soil, i.e., perfect for my Neglected Garden.

The Neglected Garden is my answer to landscaping. I will broadcast seed, or plant starts or bulbs of just about any species to test its survival capabilities. If it thrives on what little water I remember to give it, if it doesn't beg for fertilizer or deadheading, if it blooms and goes to seed, it is allowed to remain and flourish as it so desires. Tough as nails these delicate little flowers must be, weathering whatever Nature and the gardener hand them. One must admire that in a plant, or in a person, for that matter.

Four Blackberries

Day 300: There are three different types of blackberry native to Washington state. The best known is the Himalayan blackberry (Rubus discolor), also known colloquially as the "kudzu of the north." It forms 15-20 foot high mounds, often completely taking over vacant lots and small buildings. It bears an end-of-thumb sized berry which is very juicy and flavorful.

Next in line is the Evergreen blackberry (Rubus laciniatus), similar to the Himalayan although it doesn't grow as rampantly. Its leaves are deeply incised and lacy, as its scientific name suggests. The berries are more strongly flavored and of the two, I prefer Evergreen for jam and jelly.

Then comes the tastiest of the three, Trailing blackberry ((Rubus ursinus), shown here. This is a ground cover, with tough little vines strong enough to trip a full-grown man walking through them. Its berries are coveted for pies, but nowadays it grows sparingly and one can seldom gather enough to fill a 9" tin.

Mother Nature gifted me with a few handsful of Trailing blackberries today as I walked along one of my favorite logging roads. They look huge, thanks to macro photography and my small hand. Their taste is every bit as large as they seem!

Keys To The Season

Day 299: The keys are ripening on the Vine Maple now, the seeds swelling within the husks and preparing to launch an armada of "helicopters" to the ground. When the leaves of Acer circinatum turn color in the Autumn, they can vary from a boring transition from yellow to brown, or may be brilliantly vermilion or scarlet, depending on the climatic conditions leading into summer's close. Certain species of edible wild mushroom prefer a habitat rich in decaying Vine Maple leaves, so mushroom enthusiasts know to look for bright red patches on hillsides and stream banks. Not yet! But Vine Maple holds the keys to the mushrooming season.

Our Fragile Earth

Day 298: Today a flower is featured not for itself, but as a symbol of the fragility of the environment in which we live. Seen from space, the Earth is a big blue marble, its seas greatly vaster than its land surfaces, a world of water. All living things depend upon water for their existence; pure water, clean water. As would a man, without water, the Earth would die.

It has recently come to light that Mankind is polluting water sources in a heretofore unimagined way. Chemicals added to foodstuffs are not necessarily fully processed by the human body before they are again discharged as waste. The same is true of chemicals dispensed as medicines. It has been theorized that reintroduction of these chemical substances into the biosphere is a factor in the evolution of "super-bugs," disease-causing germs and bacteria which are resistant to antibiotics. Through exposure to low-level dosages now found in ground water, the "bugs" are developing an immunity to previously effective medicines.

Linum narbonense (a garden cultivar of Flax, the plant which gives us fibers for linen) is a delicate little thing. It is as fragile as the Earth on which we live, and as blue as the waters on which we depend.

Evening Primrose, Oenothera Biennis

Day 297: Oenothera biennis earns its common name from its habit of opening its blossoms in late afternoon, and it lends that name to the vibrant hue of yellow we know as "primrose." The flowers are short-lived, but not to worry. Many are borne on a single stalk as the unopened buds here attest. In the early hours of evening, a light and distinctive perfume arises from the plant, making it popular in the garden despite being known as a weed of open spaces.

Blue Sailors, Cichorium Intybus

Day 296: "Blue Sailors" may well be a regional name for wild Chicory, but it is listed in field guides as such and the name is too appealing to discard. The root of this weedy plant and its domesticated cousins can be roasted and used as a coffee additive or substitute, although in the latter case, you'll definitely want to sweeten your brew. The flowers are a striking blue, pale in hue but intense, standing out strongly against almost any background.

Introduced from Europe, Cichorium intybus can be found throughout much of North America, growing in dry, disturbed soil. Weed or not, who can resist a Sailor's appeal?

Tall Phlox, Phlox Paniculata

Day 295: Yes, it's pink. Anyone who knows me even half-well could guess that it must have come with the house, and that's very true. I managed to eradicate it from the flowerbeds where its pinkness would offend my eye every time I looked out my living room window, but a pang of conscience for the poor thing compelled me to transplant one clump to a weedy spot beneath the kitchen window. I only see it when I go out back, and it always surprises me with its cheerful, vibrant pinkness. There is always one brief flash of instinct which says, "Rip it out!" before I remind myself that it can't help being that color as it tries to be beautiful. As long as it doesn't go wandering into the real garden, I think I can tolerate its presence for another year.

Hypericum Calycinum Sp.

Day 294: Hypericum calycinum is a garden-variety St. John's Wort, literally! A cultivar designed as a bedding plant, this species takes well to almost any type of soil. There are many sub-species and hybrids, and I can't tell you the exact nomenclature for this one because I snitched the slip out of a parking-lot planting twenty years ago. It spreads quite freely, often sending runners under sidewalks to emerge on the opposite side. In fact, once established, it's difficult to eliminate should you desire to do so. The blossoms are approximately two inches in diameter as opposed to those of its wild cousins which are rather small by comparison.

Foretelling Philadelphus' Fall

Day 293: Featured previously beneath Tiger Swallowtails who stole the show, the Philadelphus (Philadelphus lewisii, a native plant) is almost at the end of its blooming period. The back yard is blanketed in petals and yet the air is still fragrant with the heady Mock Orange scent. Only a few butterflies are flitting about the branches now, seeking the few late-opening buds. It will not be long before fair Philadelphus falls entirely, to await a rebirth in the fine weather of a new June.

Noxious Weeds

Day 292: Both Sulphur Cinquefoil (Potentilla recta) and Spotted Knapweed (Centaurea biebersteinii) were introduced to North America from the Eurasian continent. In the absence of the species which consume them, they spread quickly and sometimes crowded out native species. Both plants shown here grow in dry disturbed soils such as those found along roadsides and in vacant lots. Beautiful to look at, but it's a skin-deep beauty. If you see these, pick a big bouquet for your table or better yet, pull them up by the roots.