The Professor

Day 18: In junior high and high school, my classmates called me "the Professor" and as you might expect from kids who were more interested in beer and parties than in books and science, the nickname was not applied kindly. For the most part, I was oblivious to their scorn, too busy analyzing rocks or reading about space to feel left out of the social scene. My best friend indulged me, and often set herself up for the inevitable answer, "It's leaverite...leave 'er right where it is" by asking me to identify a specimen she had in hand. She also teased me about my studious ways, but even at her most snide, it was obvious that she was encouraging my interest in the world around me. It wasn't until we got into high school that she took me aside and explained gently that I was putting people off (boys, particularly). My response was what you might expect: "So?" She went on to marry an engineer, and I survived two husbands, neither of whom were more than marginally interested in scientific pursuits. Unencumbered, the Professor re-emerged to follow her passions for birds (especially corvids) and wildflowers, and if you question any of her colleagues, you'll be told that she's more than just a little cracked on the subject of lichens. Happy Hallowe'en!

Mama's Got A Brand-New Toy

Day 17 (Bonus Edition!): I've had my microscope since I was in my twenties, so it really shouldn't have come as any surprise that I couldn't get the optics clean no matter how hard I tried, so after I'd worked on it pointlessly for an hour and a half, what this year's Christmas-present-to-self should became clear. I spent the next several days comparing brands and models, studying options, coming to the realization that technology had outpaced me by several decades, and deciding that if I wanted to be serious about this, I'd better "get with the program," as they say. I started with a rough budget which, in the end, wound up being slightly more than double what I'd planned, but in addition to ordering a better grade of microscope, I also purchased a camera attachment for it.

I was more than a little nervous about installing the software; nothing ever seems to go the way it should when I mess with computers, but within ten minutes of the time the 'scope arrived, I was capturing my first images from a selection of prepared slides. The more I fiddled with the focus knobs, the more I realized just how feeble my old 'scope had been. I have much greater control, much better focus, and the optics are crystal clear (even if the prepared slides seem to have included miscellaneous grit and fuzzies). The tungsten lamp is bright (my old 'scope employed a mirror). I have yet to install the second, more powerful eyepiece! These photos were taken on 40-400x magnification. The second eyepiece boosts that to 1000x! Look out, lichens! Mama's got a brand-new toy!

Elfin Saddles

Day 17: "Elfin," I said. "Elfin, not 'elephant.'" It's amazing how many people mispronounce the common name of this family of mushrooms. Personally, I wouldn't care to sit astride one whether I was an elf or on an elephant. Think of the saddle sores!

Elfin Saddles can fruit in spring or fall, and novice mushroomers often confuse them with Morels which are exclusively a spring occurrence. Characteristically, Morels have a nicely shaped cap with regularly spaced ridges and pits. On the other hand the Helvellas look like gobs of wax, contorted and lumpy. Helvella lacunosa, so named for the lacunae (deep pits) in the stipe, is one of the more common Saddles to be found in the Pacific Northwest.

Hericium Abietis

Day 16: One of four Hericium species to occur in the continental US, Hericium abietis (Bear's-head) is the most commonly found in the Pacific Northwest. Unlike its relatives, it grows almost exclusively on conifer wood, particularly that of Douglas Fir and Western Hemlock. Unmistakable in form for anything other than a closely related species, Hericium coralloides, it is considered edible and choice (as is H. coralloides), however a rare individual (your narrator, for example) will react badly to it, experiencing a variety of gastric side-effects sufficient to put the collector off further harvesting. Besides, who would want to destroy such a beautiful specimen just for the sake of a meal?

Pilophorus Clavatus, Tapered Matchstick Lichen

Day 15: How many times have I walked around the Trail of the Shadows, my eyes sweeping the surrounding area for rare and elusive species? How many times have I gone right past this particular rock, never seeing what was waving to me from its nearly bald pate? If I had not been searching for one particular solitary mushroom, only to be distracted from my task by another lichen nearby, I would not have been bent over at the right angle to the light or in the proper position to spot these minuscule and sparsely distributed threads.

This, dear readers, is a cousin to my favourite lichen (Pilophorus acicularis). It is Pilophorus clavatus, also known as Tapered Matchstick, common nomenclature derived from the "burnt" appearance of its apothecia. The tallest of these little buggers is only about three-quarters of an inch long, and you'd have to cluster four or five of the stalks to approximate the diameter of the lead in a pencil. We're talking TINY, and of course perfectly camouflaged against the rock. Like P. acicularis, Tapered Matchstick is a "pioneer" lichen, growing only on freshly exposed, non-calcareous rock. It is much less common than P. acicularis, occurs at higher elevations, and is more tolerant of deep shade. All of the Pilophorus species are nitrogen-fixers, a biological advantage if you're going to grow on "bare" rock or in poor soil.

Once I'd got this specimen in my photographic "bag," I spent some time looking for any other Pilophorus-supporting rocks in the vicinity. Nope, no luck, but now I'm on high alert. If they're out there, I'll find them.

Cladonia Squamosa

Day 14: Walking along a short trail in Black Lake Meadows (a small wetland area south of Capitol Mall in Tumwater), I checked up short at the sight of a mound of very scaly little lichens covering a stump of unknown wood no more than a foot high or wide. My first thought was that the lichen was Cladonia bellidiflora, the most squamous of the Cladonias, but on closer observation, I saw that the apothecia were a pinkish-tan colour rather than brilliant red. That feature alone ruled out bellidiflora, so the next fifteen minutes were spent on my knees in the wet grass under light rain trying to obtain a photo from an angle which showed the full morphology of what I believed to be Cladonia squamosa, although I had reservations due to the abundant apothecia.

Updating: I've had one of those "D'uh!" moments. I should have recognized this species immediately because it's quite common in the Pacific Northwest. I'd just never seen it fruiting quite so abundantly. It is Stereocaulon paschale, "Easter Lichen." The remainder of my description has been revised to reflect the corrected identification.

For the uninitiated, "squamous" means "scaly," referring to the pale green shingles on the stalks (podetia) of this species. The apothecia are the fruiting bodies, those little knobs along the upper margins.

Fungal Fun From Flatland

Day 13: Whenever I'm in a new area or one I only frequent on occasion, I try to find time to wander along a nature trail or somewhere else I'm likely to run across strange new lichens or fungi. Today, I happened to be in the Tumwater area visiting friends, and scored big-time! Tomorrow's post will feature a new Cladonia (lichen) for my Life List; today's shows a colony of Calocera fungus fingers. Without examining the spores under a microscope, I cannot be 100% certain of the species, but my "best guess" would be Calocera cornea. This specimen was growing on a section of decaying maple. Another colony had sprouted on the cut end. Never mind the rain! It's always a good day when I find a new species, even better when I find two!

On The Subject Of Beards

Day 12: Usneas came up in conversation this morning...yes, I do have friends who talk lichens with me...so I decided to go for a drive and short walk to visit my favourite species, Usnea longissima. Besides being one of the most graceful and beautiful of our local lichens, U. longissima is highly sensitive to pollutants. You can be assured that you're breathing the best air when you find yourself amid trees adorned with its streamers.

This Usnea is largely a lowland species, but that said, it is considered threatened world-wide, and has in fact been extirpated in much of its normal range, over-harvested by collectors selling "moss" to the floral industry. The strands can be up to ten feet long, and the sight of them swaying in the breeze will quickly clue you into how this lichen is transported. They blow on the wind like feathers, the tendrils catching on any available twig, gathering into gauzy curtains of pale green lace. At this site, they seem to have a preference for cottonwood, and occur only on those trees closest to a small stream. I've monitored this location for several years, and am happy to say they seem to be thriving.

Penny Perspectives: Shepherd's Purse

Day 11: Here's another plant most everyone will recognize, although if asked to name it, they would scratch their heads and say, "I don't think I've ever heard what it's called." It's Shepherd's Purse, so named for the heart-shaped, mildly peppery seed pods which many of us ate as children. In fact, it makes a pleasant garnish for a green salad. A member of the Mustard family, it carries a hefty chunk of Latin for all of its diminutive size: Capsella bursa-pastoris, and its distribution is almost world-wide, giving it a reputation as a "weed," if not a particularly invasive one. You will find it growing on disturbed land (this specimen is in my driveway).

Puffball Perfection

Day 10: As unlikely as it might seem, many Puffballs are edible and some species are considered choice, but they must be picked when young, and care must be taken when cleaning them to ensure that the collector hasn't gathered any young Amanitas by mistake. Each puffball must be sliced in two vertically to ensure that the interior contains no evidence of gill formation or a stem. Puffball flesh should be white throughout, and if any tinge of brown is apparent, the mushroom should be discarded. The exterior of Lycoperdon perlatum is similar to the shell of an egg; peel your puffballs before cooking. Sliced and sauteed in butter or cooked in gravy, they make an excellent topping for meats.

Centaurium Umbellatum

Day 9: Called "Common Centaury," Centaurium umbellatum is, in my experience, rather uncommon. In fact, I have only observed it in two locations previously: the Windy Ridge Trail in Pack Forest, and on the west shore of Alder Lake, a site to or from which it may have been transported. A member of the Gentian family, it blooms late into the season, but I did not expect to find its pink stars in the grassy, weedy strip between tire ruts on the road to Pack's Peak. It seems to be quite hardy, arising from a basal rosette rooted in hard-packed, sandy, dry soil which supports little else, a spot of delicate beauty in an unkind environment. It is generally a lowland plant, a factor which may account for its infrequent presence in my area.

Longmire Lawn Ornaments

Day 8: It has been a banner year for the Amanitas at Longmire! Dozens of specimens are apparent throughout the housing area and in the lawn at the back of the Administration Building where I work. You can't mistake them for anything else (and that's my lead-in to today's post).

I write a weekly article on the Park's Facebook page and while it generally features some of the rarer wildflowers or lichens, I occasionally venture outside my particular fields into the dangerous territory where the limits of my knowledge are stretched, specifically mycology. I generally steer clear of edible mushrooms lest my posts encourage harvesting, and even when I do publish a photo of an edible species, I emphasize how risky it is for the amateur to gather fungi without an expert's help. Most recently, I posted a photo of what I believed to be a Pholiota species, but was corrected by someone with greater knowledge. Caught out, I chose not to delete the post, but to turn it into a "teaching moment."

Ironically, the subject of my article was not the mushroom itself, but the perils of mushroom poisoning as a result of misidentification. If I had to make a mistake publicly, it could not have happened under better circumstances. I accepted the correction gracefully, and thanked the contributor for expanding my knowledge. The "Pholiota" was properly identified as an edible Armillaria, so although my misidentification denied me the experience of savouring "honey mushrooms," my error was on the side of caution, supporting my own advice: "If you're not 105% sure, don't eat it."

Unlike what happens if you consume an Amanita or other poisonous mushroom, you'll survive confessing to a mistake with no long-term ill effects. Even though it is embarrassing, there is no shame in admitting you are wrong. The shame is in persisting in an error.

Lobsters In The Woods

Day 7: A prime candidate for Crow's Catalog of Freaky Fungi, "lobster mushrooms" are not a single organism, but a parasitic fungus (Hypomyces lactifluorum) which grows on another mushroom, generally those in the Russula and Lactarius genera. In the Pacific Northwest, H. lactifluorum most commonly occurs on R. brevipes. When R. brevipes appears without being infected with H. lactifluorum, it is white and can be rather large. Often, observers will find specimens which are only partly "lobsterized," the gills more or less intact and the cap showing blotches of white. Sometimes the colonization occurs before the host mushroom has emerged from the ground. Due to the fact that the host can be one of several species, the taste of Lobsters is inconsistent.

Burning At Both Ends

Day 6: Finally! Inciweb has not updated their website since September 9, but today when I visited Lillie Dale Road, I found on display a new map and current information regarding the Alder Lake Fire. As of October 16, eleven crew members from Gifford Pinchot National Forest and the Department of Natural Resources are on site. The fire is 45% contained, and now encompasses 360 acres.

We have had some precipitation, but not nearly enough. As the bulletin phrased it, "Despite recent moisture, interior areas and the west and east flanks of the fire continue to burn, exhibiting low rates of spread but high consumption of the available fuels. Smoke will be visible as fuels dry out and continue to burn. Smoke will continue to be visible until significant precipitation is received." In other words, it's still a hot, smoky fire, but it's travelling slowly. Unfortunately, it is still most active in terrain which is inaccessible.

If there's one bit of good news in this report, it's that the new map is rightside-up.

Only The Brightest And Best

Day 5: Mount Rainier's volunteers are the brightest and best...well, definitely the brightest! This scruffy lot turned out for today's litter patrol along SR706 despite showery weather, collecting a total of 16 bags of trash from a two-mile stretch of roadway, plus a large pile of sodden carpet padding and a few other bulky objects. It's not a glamorous job, but we like to think that visitors appreciate what they don't see on their way to the Mountain as well as what they do see when they get there. If you missed us this time, look for us again in April. Give a wave or honk as you drive by those folks in the bright orange ANSI-approved safety vests who are working hard to keep the road to Mount Rainier beautiful.

Eatonville Salmon Fest

Day 4: Eatonville's Salmon Fest may not be the biggest event on the calendar, but there's no admission fee and for its size, there are loads of fun activities. Immediately adjacent to our Nisqually Land Trust booth, you could have a henna application or get your face painted, or you could make a salmon print on paper or a t-shirt (100% cotton shirts available for purchase at $8 for adult sizes, or you could bring your own). Both Cris and I opted to buy shirts on site (mine is the black one). Prints were free.

I don't imagine you've heard of salmon printing before, but you may have heard of leaf printing, i.e., art made by applying paint to a leaf and then transferring it by pressing the painted surface to paper. Salmon printing follows the same principle, only instead of a leaf, you use a salmon. Yeah, that's what I said...a salmon, a real one. Hatchery fish, previously frozen, were supplied for the purpose, and the same fish were used throughout the day. Prospective salmon-print artists lined up four to six deep at times to dab tempera or textile paint on dead fish with sponge applicators or small paintbrushes, and then with the help of an assistant at the booth, the "canvas" of paper or cloth was patted gently, moulding it to the fish's body. The resultant prints were then hung to dry. When done on fabric, the print must be ironed to set the paint before washing. It's not often that you get to take home a one-of-a-kind souvenir from a fair!

Pack Ramble

Day 3: The trail to Hugo Peak is one of the most popular hiking routes in Charles L. Pack Experimental Forest and most people you encounter along its 2.5 mile length will tell you that's because it takes you to "the top." In point of fact, that's incorrect. Hugo Peak's elevation is approximately 1745 feet, almost three hundred feet lower than the high point (ca. 2035') indicated on the map only as "Pack," signifying earlier placement of a survey marker now long gone. Technically unnamed, I refer to this spot as Pack's Peak, a play on words you could hardly expect me to resist.

Pack's Peak offers something else Hugo no longer affords: a view. Twenty years ago, you could see the town of Eatonville spread out in the valley below. Now the trees and brush are too tall, and Pack Forest staff only maintains a narrow "window" onto the scene. Here on Pack, you miss Eatonville, but on a clear day looking westward, you'll be treated to a chain of Olympic summits. Admittedly, there are no panoramic vistas from either high point, but Pack gives you a broader slice of the distant landscape.

For my Pack Ramble, I climbed the trail to Hugo, picking chanterelles along the way, then descended to Kirkland Pass, a five-way intersection of dirt roads not publicly accessible by any means but foot, horse or bicycle. Leaving the pass, I made the circuit of the 2000 Rd. which brought me to Pack's Peak (shown in the photo). On my return to the intersection, I was faced with several options: one, go back down the Hugo trail; two, walk down the west side of the 1000 Rd.; three, go down the east/north side of the 1000; or four, take the wooded Reservoir Trail. I opted for the Reservoir Trail, and thus completed a lopsided figure-8 loop of approximately 9 miles in just under four hours, including time out for photos, lunch and mushroom-picking.

Pile O' Pack Forest Pilophorus

Day 2: The best part wasn't the nine-mile hike. It wasn't even the bagful of chanterelles I picked for my dinner. No, the thing which really had me excited was finding a pile o' Pilophorus in Pack Forest! It is the first time I have observed them outside the Park.

They're not easy to spot. The photo doesn't give you much for scale unless you're on a first-name basis with Douglas fir needles. Pilophorus' stalks are no larger than a pencil lead, about an inch long, and their pale green colour camouflages them extremely well. As a matter of fact, I have walked past this rock dozens of times and never noticed them. Today, I elected to walk the 2000 Rd. counterclockwise, and thus put myself in a position where the light was right. As always when I walk, my eyes were searching the hillsides for anything photo-worthy. I must have noted them subconsciously, because I was a few steps beyond them when I said aloud, "Wait a minute...was that Pilophorus?" Those of us who have spent much of our lives in wilderness do that...talk to ourselves...or to the rocks or the trees or the lichens or the little chirpy birds. Little black-tipped stalks beckoned, so I backtracked. Yes, there they were, a pile o' Pack Forest Pilophorus. Did I have my GPSr with me? Not a chance! Will I be able to find them again? You bet! I may forget whether a friend has a mustache or wears glasses, but I never forget a rock or tree, especially not when it's populated with one of my favourite lichens.

Here At Lichen Labs...

Day 1 of Year Six: Yes, I've decided to continue 365 Caws for another year if the Fates and Google will allow. Hard to believe I've been at this project for five years already. So, without further ado...

Here at Lichen Labs, we have entered a new phase in the tricky business of lichen identification, i.e., chemical testing. There are only a few qualifying reagents available to the home scientist, among them household bleach (the "C test") and caustic soda, aka lye (the "K test"). Both need to be handled with care to prevent chemical burns or degradation of materials from accidental contact.

To perform the tests, a small amount of reagent is applied to a specific section of lichen and then the tissue is examined under a microscope in order to observe any changes in colour. Even the simplest test can be useful in separating one genus from another, perhaps even one species from another. More sophisticated tests can be performed in a professional laboratory if one is available. Of course, a well-trained observer may be able to differentiate species by eye, but for the neophyte, a determination confirmed by chemical means is always best.

Six Of One...

Day 365: So which was better, the book or the movie? I have to tell you, it was "six of one, half dozen of another." Both have their strong points and weaknesses, and where one falls down, the other substantially supports it. The novel is monolog/dialog-driven and focuses primarily on Mark Watney's log entries, heavy on conversation, with no descriptions of interior or exterior environment. The reader gets very little fuel for the imagination, or as I put it to one friend, "It's like watching TV on paper." However, the lack of descriptive writing in the book is counterbalanced in the film's remarkable filmography (some of the best I've seen), but the thought processes detailed in the novel are lost in favour of a flurry of hard-to-follow action sequences in the movie. Overall, the film gives a better sense of the timeframe of events, jumping between the venues of Mars and various agencies.

In the movie, the protagonist's mental efforts with respect to problem-solving are unvoiced; the audience understands that he made miscalculations which caused his plan/plans to fail, but the hard science behind the failures is lost. The fast action of the film has you gripping the arms of your theater seat as you experience the suddenness of each potentially catastrophic event in real-time, and while the book is a can't-put-it-down work, the movie doesn't allow you time for breath, let alone popcorn.

The science in the book is well-researched and believable, and that is where Hollywood made its major mistake: they changed the ending, adding a showy but scientifically flawed last-minute maneuver. Even if I could have suspended disbelief for that deviation, the omission of one of the more spectacular milestones of Watney's Martian sojourn was a great disappointment, especially since the time which could have been used to include it was filled instead with an epilogue not included in the the novel. Still, I find myself willing to overlook Hollywood's unfortunate tendency to stamp everything with their own signature, and in conclusion I can only advise my followers to read and see for themselves. Do both. You won't regret it.

How Low Can It Go?

Day 364: This bridge is a remnant of the old highway which used to pass through the town of Alder prior to the early 1940s. Like most of the towns in this neck of the woods, Alder was little more than a whistle-stop, although it did host the proverbial "one-room schoolhouse" on a little knob of land at the edge of town. Unfortunately for the residents, Tacoma Power saw potential in the nearby Nisqually River and decided to build a hydroelectric dam. The population of Alder relocated, and the little town was drowned as the Nisqually backed up behind the dam to become what is now known as Alder Lake.

In the 25+ years I have lived in the immediate area, I have seen the tips of these bridge timbers only a few times. I have never seen their bases, not until this autumn (for scale, note the family at the left end of the bridge). The lake is lower than it has even been in my memory, evidence of last year's low snow-pack and this summer's dry weather. Tacoma Power must maintain a certain requirement of cubic feet per second flow through the dam, and must also ensure that the water temperature does not exceed that necessary to maintain salmon habitat downstream. Failure to comply carries a hefty fine. The power company is caught between a rock and a hard place. They also depend on recreation dollars from the various campsites they maintain on the shore of the lake.

I never thought I'd hear Washington described as droughty, not here where lichens grow in abundance and moss curtains the forests, but we are already in a bad way which is only destined to become worse unless the rains come at flood-producing rates. Alder Lake? It's almost a desert out there. Can you spot the bridge in this photo?

Mistaken Identity - Point Proven

Day 363: The Pholiotas are a good example of why one area mycological society holds a "Survivors' Banquet" every year. Some members of the genus are edible. Others are poisonous, and unless you have an exceptionally complete field guide and are very good at using the keys, or unless you have a close and trusted friend who is also a trained mycologist to help you with identifications, you are strongly advised to take no chances. Mushroom poisoning can be as simple as making you sick to your stomach, or it can be deadly in either the short or long term. Many toxins can linger in the body for years, particularly in the liver. "Better safe than sorry," as my mother always said.

NB: I stand corrected. Apparently this is a species of Armillaria, which just goes to show how easy it is to make a mistake when identifying mushrooms.

Puzzle Puzzle 10

Click to enlarge

Day 362: It's dreary and wet, so I'd like to present a little something to keep you amused. There are ten differences in this pair of puzzling photos. How many can you spot? Each puzzle is considered an object with respect to determining if something has been removed or rotated, although in some cases, only a single piece may have been moved or had its color altered. Have fun!

The Old Forest

Day 361: The Pacific Northwest is hobbit country. I walk through the old forest on a daily basis, following its twisting paths, scrambling among its verdure for mushrooms in the autumn, my hair tangled with moss and lichen. It is a homey place, this woods of oxalis and fern; fir and hemlock and vine maple are interlaced in a canopy which only the strongest sunlight pierces. I love walking here, surrounded by the hues most pleasing to my mind and eyes. If Tolkien did not set his hobbits here, I have yet to see a more likely place.

Field Guide Specimen

Day 360: If you've been dabbling in photography for any length of time, you may have heard of the Rule of Thirds in which the subject is placed at one of the intersections of an imaginary tic-tac-toe grid, a little compositional trick which leads the eye through an image in a spiraling pattern. Let's take a look at a different style. The Rule of Thirds is used extensively in "art" photography, but when it comes to capturing subject matter in a way which is useful to researchers and scientists, the philosophy of visual flow should be laid aside in favour of centering.

Centering the subject and maintaining a good depth of field allows the viewer to see not only the specimen, but also its habitat. Sometimes it is helpful to know if a plant or fungus is growing in hemlock debris rather than fir needles or some other medium, or to know what other plants may be growing nearby. You should always try to shoot from an angle which allows all the physical characteristics (morphology) of the subject to be seen. "Flat" light is preferable to strong highlights and shadows, so take your pictures on an overcast day whenever possible. My personal preference is to put the camera on a tripod and go with a longer exposure in natural light rather than utilizing a flash.

When you're in the field and have the opportunity, take the time to look for other examples of the species. You might get lucky and find a textbook specimen like this Amanita muscaria waiting for your lens!

Chutney Time!

Day 359: The most common response I hear when I tell people I'm making chutney is, "What's that?"  Chutney...you know, like you put on steak to make it palatable. Americans use those numbered sauces...A1 and 57. Brits use chutney. Chutney is chunky. It stays on your meat.

Maybe it's because I don't care for the taste of dead cow as a general rule, or maybe it's because I grew up eating chutneys of assorted types and therefore think beef is bland without one. I like them on pork and chicken as well, and the hotter the better. Here you see my "all-purpose" chutney, good on just about anything with the possible exception of fish. It's made with pears, tomatoes, green bell pepper and a recipe of secret spices handed down to me by my mother. It's not overly hot...not like Dinosaur Chutney which got its name because it resembles something dredged out of a tar pit...but it has a bit of a bite.

By virtue of being made with fruit and sugar, chutneys are sweet. Chutney is not set with pectin like jams and jellies. It cooks for a longer period of time (an hour or two) until it becomes thick and jammy when cooled.

Break out of the mold, Americans! Have something different with that boring beef roast for a change. It's chutney time!

Must Be Tasty

Day 358: I went out for a walk close to home today, and as is my usual wont, whenever I spotted a Woolly Bear caterpillar on the road trying to make its way to safety, I gave it an assist. A lot had already fallen to that most mindless predator, the automobile, and it made me sad to walk past their dessicated remains. However, there were still enough live specimens to ensure the continuation of the species into next year. Oddly, I don't think I've ever seen the adult moth, or have not recognized it if I did.

What do Woolly Bears eat? According to my references, they'll sample just about any forb (herbaceous plant). This team of three were enjoying a Crepis (hawksbeard) of some sort, dining only inches from the edge of the pavement. Hunkered down and not clearly visible to drivers, I could sympathize with their plight as cars passed uncomfortably close, but I left them to dine in leisure.

I Dream Of Genii

Day 357:  Not realizing that hardy fuchsias bloom on old wood as well as new, I gave Genii a radical trim in the spring, and for the longest time, I thought I'd killed the plant. Finally a few leaf buds began to emerge and by August, she had full foliage but no sign of a blossom. I'd pruned Dollar Princess at the same time, but she recovered nicely and was in bloom by July. In the interim, I had also added Army Nurse and Erecta to the garden, and they were in full, showy array, much to the delight of the hummingbirds. At last, late in the season, Genii opened up.

I first became aware of hardy fuchsias when a friend introduced me to Genii in her yard, framing in my mind an image of "hardy fuchsia" which endured until recently when I became aware of other larger-flowered varieties with blooms more like the annual fuchsia of hanging-basket fame. Some are less hardy than others, so I selected varieties which would endure temperatures down to 0° F. To date, Erecta has been the most prolific, lavishly covered with pale pink flowers all summer long. Genii, however, remains my favourite, and next year, I'll let her grow to her heart's content. I should have known you shouldn't try to confine a Genii.

Suzie Homemaker Attack

Day 356: Here you see the product of a Suzie Homemaker Attack. When the kudzu of the Pacific Northwest (blackberries) failed to produce its usual lavish crop of fruit and my urge to make jam had yet to be satisfied, I began thinking about what other recipes I had for breakfast spreads. My larder was populated by half a dozen jars of blackberry jam and a dozen or so of cranberry-orange marmalade, so those were out, and I didn't want to make a chutney because I still had "Dinosaur chutney" on the shelves. What would I be most likely to eat? Pear-ginger preserves!

As a general rule, I don't like to cook, or maybe I should say that I don't like to cook meals. I love to bake and I love to make jams, jellies and preserves, two things which go wonderfully hand-in-hand. Over the course of two days, I turned eight big Bartlett pears into fifteen half-pints and four 4-ounce jars of preserves, a more time-consuming project than jamming.

To make preserves (think of big, almost-candied strawberry chunks), the fruit must first be cooked until tender. Then sugar is added and the mixture is brought to a boil. It is then removed from the heat and allowed to cool slowly to room temperature over a period of several hours (five in this case). In jam, the fruit pieces would be smaller than in preserves and could therefore be put into jars following the addition of pectin; slow cooling allows larger pieces of fruit to be "preserved" without being destroyed by more vigorous cooking.

Once the mixture has cooled, a little lemon juice is added to prevent browning of the fruit and it is returned to the boil for several minutes. After it has been removed from the heat, the pectin is added. The preserves must then be stirred for ten minutes to ensure that the fruit chunks do not "float" to the top of the jar.

The remainder of the process is simple: the preparation is decanted into sterilized jars, capped and sealed, and put into a water-bath for 10 minutes. Some old-fashioned canners omit the water-bath step, but most modern recipes recommend it.

Pear-ginger preserves are quite sweet, and go best on homemade breads with a stronger grainy flavour, like whole wheat. I am particularly fond of this preserve on my "birdseed" bread, made with millet flour and golden flaxseed meal.

The Ramaria Report

Day 355: After my prime specimen of Ramaria araiospora fell to a vicious predator of the two-legged sort (and I am not talking about Sasquatch), I went on a serious hunt for another example of this uncommon coral fungus. I found not one, but two, and their location will remain my secret. Several years ago, I found my first araiospora in full glory not far from the edge of a popular trail. I cannot say how or when it disappeared, but after I tracked its development through two or three autumn seasons, documenting it in photos, it ceased appearing in its customary niche beside a small drainage. I can only hope that these two will go undiscovered.

Rhizocarpon Geographicum, Map Lichen

Day 354: Hikers in the subalpine and alpine areas of Mount Rainier National Park may have passed by rocks populated by bright yellow-green patches of Rhizocarpon geographicum without ever giving them a second glance, or dismissing them from mind as "some kind of weird green stuff," perhaps not even knowing that they were observing a lichen, specifically a Map Lichen.

Rhizocarpon is a crustose lichen, which is to say it forms a crusty covering closely attached to the substrate material. This particular species is quite noticeable because of its striking hue, but other crustose lichens may be coloured to resemble the rocks on which they grow, i.e., grey with dot-like black or brown apothecia (fruiting bodies). Unlike the larger lichens, they are not a particularly valuable food source for animals, nor do they provide nesting material for birds, but they do make a vital contribution to the ecology in that they help break rock down into soil. It just goes to show that even that "weird green stuff" plays an important role in Nature!

Pinnacle Peak Trail

Day 353: The trail to Pinnacle Peak saddle isn't long (only 1.3 miles), but it gains about 1200' in elevation, approximately half of that on terrain similar to what you see here in this photo. The more ambitious hiker can continue on to Pinnacle's summit, a class 3 scramble I've done half a dozen times, but now consider foolhardy given my age. My late husband always refused to attempt it, and would stay at the saddle watching with trepidation as I spider-walked my way up what from his vantage point looked like a vertical pitch. Up was never an issue with me, but down was sometimes worrisome. On one notable occasion, he was joined by another Park visitor, a woman whose concern for my well-being inspired her to ask Bruce, "Is she NUTS?" Bruce assured her that yes, I was definitely certifiable.

Today, however, I contented myself with going up and over the saddle and out as far as I could follow a fading social trail to the west. The day was beautifully serene until on my return, I sat down behind a roll of terrain to have my lunch. I'd only been there fifteen minutes or so when a pair of loud-mouthed young women shattered the perfect silence with a conversation better suited to social media than to the backcountry. I think (and this grieves me terribly) that the possibility of solitude in the Park is now beyond the reach of my aging legs and hips. There was a time, though, when I could imagine that I shared the whole 235,000 acres with nothing but the wildlife. For a few minutes today, I recaptured that feeling as a raven spoke his secrets to me and uttered a call to adventure which, sadly, I could not answer, "Lead, and I will follow you."