Fording The Creek

Day 149: When I got up this morning, I could see that it was going to be a nice day. I did my customary session on the exercise bike (equivalent to eight walking miles), hemmed a shirt, and then said, "Eh, time to put on the boots." At 9:30, I was out the door and walking up the road toward Nicholson Horse Trails with no thought of going further than the stream where high water stopped me last week. As things transpired, however, the creek was down significantly. I assessed the situation for several minutes...it's February, you know, and that water is only a few degrees above being ice, and it's often deeper than you'd guess...and then I took off my boots and socks, tied the laces together and slung them around my neck, shed my trousers and went barefoot across the bed of sharp stones, cursing and complaining the whole way. It's not like I'm a stranger to this procedure. You do what you gotta do, and once I was on the other side and dressed again, I realized I'd made a commitment to go up to Buck's Crossing.

Now as it fell out, I was ill-prepared for the trek because it hadn't been in my thoughts when I left home. I had no water, no food, no first-aid kit, not even a bandana, and more importantly, no map. Bad Crow! But as I said, I hadn't intended to tackle Buck's Crossing, otherwise I'd have had the Ten Essentials with me. I hadn't been up this way for several years, but I have a good memory for rocks and trees and the lay of the land, and that talent was what first alerted me to the fact that things weren't quite what they should have been. I'd climbed a steeper section of trail than I recalled being en route to Buck's Crossing, and when it debouched into a clearcut, I became even more confused. Believing that I was still on the right trail and that Man had gone and changed the landscape on me, I kept going until I came to the "Peggy's Trail" sign. Then I knew I'd screwed up. Someplace, I'd missed a turn.

Backtracking two miles, I found my error. It was an easy one to make. Deadfall across another small creek obscured any sign of trail until I penetrated the forest on the other side. Did I turn around, knowing I'd already gone four extra miles? Not me! I kept plugging along until at last I came to Buck's Crossing. Satisfied but very thirsty, I started back toward home.

By the time I got back to the missing Stone Bridge and Tucker's Ford, my feet were starting to get a little weary because I'd already covered 12.5 miles. That ice water looked much better than it had looked in the morning! Once again, off came the boots and socks, but having made the crossing earlier, I knew I only needed to roll my trousers up to my knees instead of taking them off. When I got to the other side, I took about three minutes to enjoy a frigid foot-bath before polishing off the last five miles to home. Whatever pain I endured on this day, it was worth it!

Barn Site

Day 148: Just for the heck of it (and because I'm a little desperate for a photo today), here's another view of the area we were planting yesterday. The Cascara saplings went in the wetter areas (but not in standing water). The white plastic tubes (barely visible left) surround trees from a previous planting. The ones we planted yesterday are marked with pink flags.

Restoration Planting

Day 147: In addition to my regular routine of walking and riding the exercise bike, today I spent three hours planting over fifty Douglas fir and Cascara saplings in a field of rocks and mud. The project was part of the Nisqually Land Trust's efforts toward restoring natural habitat in Ohop Valley. Several old barns and outbuildings were removed from this site last fall, and the concrete slab foundations were broken into chunks with bulldozers and were then left to lay until funding could be found for removal of the debris. That work was completed a few weeks ago. It will take several more sessions such as this one before the site is completely replanted. In a few years' time, this area will present a very different aspect, and will again be home to many species of wildlife and birds.

Yarn Eggs

Day 146: First of all, I would like to thank my friend Kelli for posting the instructions for making these Easter eggs where I could see them. They sounded quite easy to make, so I picked up all the supplies last week and sat myself down to the task. Immediately, I found myself challenged by trying to insert a foil-covered chocolate egg into a water balloon (hints will follow at the end of this article). Once I'd got the candy into the neck of the balloon, I struggled with inflating it, but once it started to expand, the egg popped neatly into the enlarged form. The next part of the project involved wrapping yarn soaked in a mixture of glue and water around the slippery inflated balloon. At first, this proved to be rather difficult to accomplish without having it slide off, but in subsequent attempts, I learned to control the tension. Once the yarn was laid on, I looped a twist-tie around the mouth of the balloon and hung the eggs to dry. Surprisingly, when it came time to remove the balloon from the center, it peeled away from the yarn easily.

Now, if you're interested in making these, I'll expand on the original instructions. You will need yarn, water balloons (regular balloons will NOT do), quick-drying craft glue and chocolate eggs. The project will be a lot easier if you have an assistant, but it can be accomplished by one person.

Water balloons are VERY stretchy and tough. This was something I did not know when I began working. Stretch the neck as wide as you can manage, pulling it apart until you can maneuver a chocolate egg into the opening. It does not have to drop into the body of the balloon, but after you've done a few, you'll discover that it's possible. Now inflate the balloon to a nice size (don't fully inflate it) and tie off the neck. Mix one part craft glue with one part water (a tablespoon of each will be sufficient for three eggs). Soak a 6-yard length of yarn in the glue mixture while keeping the ends in your hand. Wring out as much of the glue as possible, returning it to the bowl. Separate the yarn ends and begin winding the yarn snugly but not tightly around the balloon. Make a conscious effort to keep the crossings from bulking up in any one spot. Always remember that you don't want the chocolate to fall out through one of the holes, so be mindful of spacing. You can manipulate the threads a little after wrapping is complete. When you're done wrapping, tuck the end of the yarn under one of the threads to conceal it. Wrap a twist-tie around the balloon neck and hang your masterpiece up to dry.

When the eggs are completely dry, poke a hole in the large end of the balloon and scissor an opening large enough for the chocolate to escape. You may have to make a couple of incisions. Pull the balloon pieces out of the egg with the point of your scissors or a pair of needlenosed pliers. Be careful not to pull any of the yarn intersections apart, but if you happen to do so, stick another candy inside and dab a little glue on the yarn to reseal it.

This honestly is a quick, cute project once you've worked out the fine points of construction. You have plenty of time between now and Easter to make them for your friends!

A Walk In The Snow

Day 145: Ten days ago, there wasn't enough snow in Longmire Campground to rise above the welts of your boots. Today, the path to the office was flanked by berms three feet high. I went out at lunchtime with intent to walk to the back gate, but when I reached the turnoff to the wastewater management plant and stepped out of the wheel ruts, I post-holed up to my knees. My walk was cut short by a mile, and perhaps that was for the best because the snow was melting quickly under a steady fall of rain. Nature gives, Nature takes away. It is the cycle of things.

Mitts For A Mouse

Day 144: A couple of weeks ago, one of my sisters-of-the-heart asked me to make some fingerless gloves for her. A check of my knitting books yielded nothing, so I designed them to her specifications, based loosely on a simple mitten pattern. There were a few details to work out, particularly in regard to the number of stitches which could be worked in a decorative motif across the back of the hand while leaving the palm unpatterned. I chose a honeycomb, a four-stitch repeat worked over 24 stitches. Per Mousie's request, I made the cuffs extra-long and used a soft-textured, neutral grey yarn. The pattern will be filed away for future reference.

Great Horned Fuzzball

Day 143: I had a feeling the Great Horned Owl chicks were going to have fledged by the time I got back down to the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge, and I was hoping they'd still be staying close to the nest. I was in luck! Although I only spotted two of the owlets today, reports from other observers indicate that all three have been seen, as well as both parent birds.

Still very downy, the young do not fly well for the first two months after leaving the nest. They will be tended by both parents for some time. Their current activity is largely confined to exploration as they hop or flutter from branch to branch. Eating is likewise a principle pastime. For the number of photographers gathered on the boardwalk today, I think "modelling" should also be added to their job description. Is there anything more adorable than a fuzzy baby owl?

Just Listen

Day 142: The image is not important here. Just listen! I decided to walk somewhere a little different, and found these singers alongside the Yelm-Tenino Trail. THEY know it's spring!

Spring In Evidence

Day 141: I believe! I'll trust a plant over a weather forecast any day, and my daffodils are telling me Spring is just around the corner. They sprout first under the protection of the contorted filbert and later in the more exposed flower beds, but both locations are showing the evidence of Mother Nature's gentling mood. The croci have not yet emerged, but the grasslike threads of grape hyacinth leaves are pushing through the ground as well. Even with yesterday's snow, the new green in the garden was obvious. Soon winter will be a memory, erased by bright yellow trumpets and the golden eyes of narcissi. Hurray! Spring is on the way!

Hard Rock Mining

Day 140: By special request: rocks and a rockhounding story.

In 1972, a deposit of amethyst quartz was discovered by a farmer near Big Lake, Washington (Walker Valley, Skagit County). A few years later, my husband and I became aware of the site through a friend who ran a lapidary shop. Avid rockhounds that we were, we made several field trips, Bruce keen on finding some faceting-grade crystals while I was more interested in collecting mineral specimens for display. Although Bruce's hopes for flawless material were never realized, we did gather both clear quartz and amethyst, and also some nice calcites (the yellowish "roses"), but the "digging" was not easy. The crystal vugs were set in a very dense basalt and had to be sledgehammered and pried apart with long crowbars.

The specimens shown here all came from one of our most successful digs. It was also the most physically demanding, and blisters, nicks and slices from sharp rock edges were par for the course despite whatever protective gear we wore. During the brutal excavation of the amethyst, a fragment of basalt embedded itself in the edge of my lower lip. I didn't notice it until a few days later, and then assumed that it was just a scab. By the time I realized it was a piece of rock, it had healed over, leaving a little spot like a blackhead which I could not squeeze out. Six months or so went by, and although it didn't cause me any particular discomfort, it bothered me that it was there.

I'm not particularly squeamish unless the blood I'm seeing is my own, so when I decided to do a job of home surgery to remove the chip, I laid out my tools (Exacto knife, tweezers and a needle) on the bathroom sink and closed the lid on the throne in case I started to pass out. It was a good precaution to take, because I got light-headed several times before extracting a tiny sliver of black basalt sharp as a splinter from a razor blade's edge half an hour later.

Walker Valley is now only open to permittees (yeah, another permit), and I understand it still yields some nice specimens of amethyst and clear quartz, but I'm content with those I dug forty years ago. I still collect rocks, but only those I can easily pick up off the ground.

Czechoslovakian Pitcher

Day 139: During the 1930s and 1940s, my maternal grandfather ran a Rexall store where he also served as the town pharmacist. He often ordered in gift items from Czechoslovakia, and this hand-painted pitcher was one of the many imports he brought in for sale. My mother loved the bright colors and bird motif, and as a young married, chose it to add to her kitchenware. It was frequently featured on the breakfast table when I was young, filled with fresh, rich milk for the morning cereal. The bird appears only on the front side. The reverse is painted solely with the fruit/flower motif. There are a few chips in the glaze, and of course it has crazed with time, but the colors are as bright and cheerful as ever.

Planting By The Moon

Day 138: The seed catalogs arrived in early January and immediately, I sat down to work on my order. Gazanias for sure, Celosia and Asclepias (neither of which I'd tried before), maybe some Cosmos or Calendulas or Nasturtiums for the hanging baskets. My intentions were good, but one thing led to another and when I had company coming, I piled the catalogs and the list at the back of the kitchen table in a stack of magazines. There they stayed, forgotten until a recent mining expedition brought them to the surface again. It was already too late to start the Gazanias indoors, so I shrugged and told myself I'd just pick up seeds at the store this year. Well, I couldn't find Celosia or Asclepias, so I settled for Painted Daisies, Red Flax and in a swing from my customary florals, Coleus for foliage color. I'll probably grow a few of those as houseplants as well.

Now it must be said that I don't hold with planting by the phases of the moon, despite my long association with The Old Farmer's Almanac. Their map shows my area in Region 2, but because I live in the mountains rather than the lowlands, I'm in Zone 7. I can't put anything out until June 1, and even then, it's a risky proposition. No planting timetable accurately reflects the growing season here, and if I waited two weeks for a "favorable moon," it might mean the difference between flowers and no flowers. More than once, I've had plants killed down by the first frosts of Autumn just as they're starting to set buds. Planting timetables are guidelines, in my opinion, and if they really worked, we'd all have perfect gardens.

Farmall 130

Day 137: Much of the Foothills Trail passes through farmland, and just east of Orting, it passes by what is either a junk yard or a cattle farm or a combination of the two. A wide variety of old vehicles and equipment is parked beside the barn and fence, everything from a "honey wagon" to decrepit semis, hay rakes, cultivators and a few hulk cars. There's a Farmall tractor near the barn, too far away for a decent picture even if I could isolate it from the junk surrounding it, a big tractor like you'd expect to see working in the field. Today, something "new" (and I use the word in the sense of "newly observed") caught my eye as I was walking: the smallest Farmall I have ever seen, just my size. Rusty, missing more pieces than it possessed, it still struck a chord with me. My daddy drove a Farmall. My memories of it are vague and largely stimulated by photographs taken before I was born, but I do recall riding on his lap one sunny afternoon, the dust and scent of dry hay rising around us in a cloud. There's a soft spot in my heart for these old red tractors, regardless of their size or condition (or perhaps because of it). Like a stray kitten, if this worn and weary waif followed me home, I'd find a spot where it could sleep in comfort and give it the love it deserves.

Rainforest Microcosm

Day 136: The forests of the Pacific Northwest are rich with moisture-loving plants, and none fits that description as well as moss (generically speaking). Both the "leaves" and sporophytes have evolved in such a manner that they hold drops of water (rain or dew), allowing the plants to utilize dissolved nutrients. Truly, a patch of moss is a microecology unto itself. The sporophytes shown here are approximately one inch tall.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Day 135: At work yesterday, guests at the annual Valentine's Day celebration were given carnation boutonnieres, the first time in my life I have ever worn anything resembling a corsage. Okay, maybe it looked a little funny pinned to my uniform shirt pocket next to the notebook and pen I always carry, but it smelled good even at that distance from my nose. It didn't occur to me to put it in water when I got home, but it was still fresh enough this morning for the photo.

The silk ribbon embroidery is something I made years ago during a brief romance with the craft. While I enjoy the look of the finished work, my dry, slick fingers make it almost impossible to pull a loaded needle through anything but very loosely woven fabrics. I found I had to use a pair of pliers to grip the needle, rendering a delicate art cumbersome and rather brutal.

Icmadophila Ericetorum, Candy Lichen

Day 134: "Who sprayed green paint all over that log?" I've heard that question asked several times, and the truth of the matter is that the "paint" is the crustose thallus of Icmadophila ericetorum, also known as "Candy Lichen" or (appropriately) "Spray Paint." The pinkish-white structures are the apothecia (fruiting bodies), not an overgrowth of a fungus as many people suppose. That said, lichens are neither fungus nor plant. In fact, they are a symbiotic union of an alga and a fungus, a co-dependent  and complex relationship which operates to the mutual benefit of each partner. Many have very specific requirements for growth. Icmadophila is often found on decaying cedar in the Pacific Northwest.

Predators

Day 133: You don't need to look any farther than the incisors on these skull reproductions to realize precisely where you'd fit into the food chain if you were to meet up with a cougar (left). The bobcat (right) is more likely to run away if it sees you first, but cougars are known to be patient stalkers. I think about that while I'm walking the trails at Park Headquarters, my ears filled with iPod music. Cougars have been sighted in the area before, particularly in the spring months.

So what do you do if a cougar decides you look like a nice snack? First of all, do NOT run. All cats like to chase their prey. Stand your ground, make yourself look as big as possible by spreading your jacket out like wings, and do not take your eyes off the animal. If the cat becomes aggressive, you should try to make yourself seem more aggressive by throwing rocks, waving your arms and shouting. If you're attacked, fight back.

Are you likely to be approached by a cougar? No. That said, there are precautions you should take to prevent unwanted encounters. If you're hiking in cougar country, keep the conversation going among members of your group. If you're hiking alone, sing or talk aloud to yourself. Better to look like a weirdo than lunch. If you see a dead animal, do not go near the carcass. It could be a cougar's kill.

In all my years of hiking, I have had only one close encounter with a cougar. I never saw the cat, only evidence that it was very close by. I don't need to tell you that it was not a comforting feeling!

"Inactive" Lichens

Day 132: In another venue, the lichen photo I posted yesterday sparked quite a discussion of where the "inactiva" part of the scientific name originated (Hypogymnia inactiva is also called "Inactive Tube Lichen" in some references, but Brodo is the recognized authority, so I have used "Mottled Tube Lichen" as the common name). I did some digging and found out that "inactive" lichens are those which can survive long periods of dry and/or cold weather. Growth ceases during stressful conditions and resumes only when sufficient warmth and moisture are available. It is always good to understand the taxonomy.

Here is another specimen of Hypogymnia inactiva showing the typical brownish-yellow apothecia fully open. It is growing on a downed limb of Red Alder (Alnus rubrum).

Mottled Tube Lichen, Hypogymnia Inactiva

Day 131: I've made at least three attempts at capturing the beauty of this particular specimen of Hypogymnia inactiva with the little Sony point-and-shoot camera I carry on my belt while walking. I couldn't get the depth of field right, and the camera wouldn't register true color. After another failure today, I decided there was nothing for it but to throw the tripod over my shoulder and the "real" camera (the Canon SX30 IS) around my neck and take a second walk. Yes, I could have found another example closer to home because Mottled Tube Lichen is very common in the mixed forests at this elevation, and in fact I did take photos of another specimen with open apothecia. Although this isn't a "field guide" shot, it has greater eye appeal. Common though it may be, Hypogymnia is one of my favorite lichens.

Woozles

Day 130: Some of you...the ones who were fortunate enough to discover "Winnie the Pooh" before Disney destroyed it...will remember the chapter "In Which Pooh and Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle." I felt rather like I'd stepped into their circle today when I discovered that my walking route at T Woods had been retraced by a coyote. Not only had it followed my path through the housing area, but it had also patrolled both loops of trail, apparently following my scent. Well, Mr. Coyote, you'll have more to do tomorrow because I tracked you today! Around and around and around we go, hunting woozles, and on each circuit, new woozles join the pack.

Sahara Creek Morning

Day 129: I varied my walking route this morning so that I could hike in restricted territory, i.e., the horse trail system at Sahara Creek. Oh, it's open to the public with one significant proviso: vehicles are required to have an annual permit at a cost of $30. Access is free to walkers or bicyclists, so as a walker, I sauntered right on in and went a mile and a half up the Upper Elk Spur trail.

Now while $30 may not seem like much in today's world, the permit it buys only covers lands administered by the Dept. of Natural Resources. Forest Service lands require a different permit at a cost of $35 annually. Those two cover the lands to the north and south of me. To the east, visitors to the area will need a third pass if they want to enter the National Park.

Not long ago, I saw a bumper sticker reading, "You can't see the forest for the fees." I appreciate the sentiment. That said, I had a lovely walk in lightly falling snow this morning, thankful that I live close enough to these trails that I only need to walk a couple of miles to get to them.

Downy Purple People Eater

Day 128: By tomorrow night, I will have logged 400 miles in the Park's winter Fitness Challenge, and I'm not about to let 20° F. and snowy weather slow me down. I'm taking my exercise in two forms: walking and riding a stationary bicycle, and the time I've devoted to each is roughly equal.

In the Fitness Challenge, different forms of exercise have different aerobic values. Riding the exercycle for 16 minutes is the aerobic equivalent of one walking mile despite the fact that the bike's built-in odometer may show a total of 5 miles travelled in that time. My walking pace is approximately 15 minutes per mile...makes sense when you think of it that way. Of course, I prefer walking outdoors to riding indoors, but lately, it's been a bit brisk. These last few days, I've dipped into my old climbing gear for a silk balaclava to protect my face from the cold and two layers of long johns (wool and polypro) which I wear underneath a down-filled shell. If you see the Purple People Eater marching down the road, don't bother offering me a ride!

Chimney Deconstruction

Day 127: With the oil furnace decommissioned and a gas insert in the fireplace, the decaying brick chimney served no purpose, and it was decided that the best course of action was to remove the external portion entirely. Once the roofer had the bricks knocked apart, the source of the leak in the roof was clear. We could see where water had been coming in on the uphill side. Fortunately, there was no major structural damage. The hole was patched with plywood and a double layer of torchdown was applied and sealed. Very few of the bricks are salvageable, so the roofer will be returning with an assistant to haul them away.

Out For My Morning Walk

Day 126: Last week, I was saying, "I think I'll wait for it to get up to 40° before I head out on my walk." This morning, it was, "Dammit, if it'd just hit 20° I'd go for a walk." Yeah, I'm committed to the Park's fitness challenge...or maybe I should BE committed. As soon as the round number rolled up on my weather station, I kitted up in my woollies, drew a silk balaclava over my face, put the earphones on over that and pulled my wool Alpine Topper over the foam "earmuffs," a combination which left me looking rather square and blockheaded. The wind was strong out of the east, but the woods offered protection from it even if the temperature felt lower among the firs and ferns. Eight miles and two hours later, I was back at my front door. It had warmed up to a glorious 24°. Eh, I'm leading the pack. Can't let a little thing like weather cramp my style.

Late Bloomer

Day 125: The Zygocacti nearly always put on a second and smaller flush of blossoms in January, and this year, I began to wonder if they were going to perform. I didn't notice buds coming until the picotee burst into bloom. It hasn't put on a spectacular show, but any color is a bonus at this time of year.

Parsing Ardea Herodias

Day 124: I had never heard of David Hockney or "joiners" until the subject came up in a photographic forum and we were given the assignment to create a thingumabob in the style of what's-his-face. I googled the subject and got your typical assortment of fact and fallacy the internet serves up, but I believe I got a feel for what I was being asked to do. The problem was to find an appropriate subject for parsing into small pieces. Ideally, I'd have used a wildflower for the experiment, but a Great Blue Heron came along at the proper moment and here you see the result.

Artistic endeavours are not my long suit. I prefer recording nature as accurately as possible through my lens, at least most of the time. I occasionally venture into wild post-processing (especially if I've had too much caffeine or not enough sleep), but creating capital-A Art falls fairly far outside my purview. That said, I rather enjoyed sectioning Ardea herodias and reconstituting him in the transporter room of PaintShopPro.

From the original photo, I created a black-and-white enlargement which I then pasted and merged onto a white background at reduced opacity. Then I mapped offset sections of the original by pixel position, copied them and pasted them onto the b/w background, adding a slight drop-shadow around each one. These sections were also reduced in opacity. They were arranged using the snap-to-grid function so that they would be aligned vertically. When I was satisfied with the positioning, all layers were merged and the resultant image was copied and pasted over the color original, again at reduced opacity. Finishing touches included some light tone-mapping, lightening of the shadows and adjusting the contrast.

That's a lot to put a poor Heron through.

We Did It!

Day 123: I would be remiss if I didn't make this post.

Great Horned Owl And Chicks, Bubo Virginianus

Day 122: I took advantage of the fact that I was already at the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge to attend a workshop, and went for a stroll on the boardwalk. I'd been advised that a Great Horned Owl had a nest with three chicks in a tree near the Twin Barns, so I went prepared to take photos. The site was very easy to find. At least a dozen photographers were crowded onto one twenty-foot stretch of the boardwalk, enormous lenses trained on an object which looked to the naked eye like a stub or knot on an old tree. A bit of bobbing and weaving permitted me to get a clear shot of the parent bird through the tangle of branches, but the young were out of sight in a hole approximately six feet below her.

After photographing the parent, I continued my walk out to the observation platform at the end of the boardwalk, two miles from the visitor center. I saw several Great Blue Herons and a young Bald Eagle en route. When I returned to the area where the owl was nesting, I saw that she had moved to another location closer to the nest and was largely obscured by branches. The bevy of photographers had dwindled to two stalwarts who were hoping the little ones would show their faces. I could see activity in the hole, so took up a position and waited until their heads popped up. A third chick remained out of sight. Satisfied with my day's "bag" which also included a heron, I headed home.