Calendar Of Discoveries

Day 79: The last year had its ups and downs, but almost daily, something new and marvelous caught my attention. It is my belief that no single thing is ordinary, however common it may be. There is always something to discover or to learn if you are drawn to look more closely. Consequently, I have not given preference to the outstanding finds of rare species; those have been described in detail elsewhere in my writings. No, here we have a selection of the simple things which give me joy each time I see them: critters, birds, plants and the face of Nature who has me in her keeping. I could wish no finer thing for my friends than a New Year of exploration and observation. May yours be filled with curiosity and wonder!

Mnemonics

Day 78: How can you tell the difference between spruce and fir? That's a fairly common question around here, and something a simple mnemonic device can resolve. The needles of Spruce (starts with S) are square. Fir is flat (F). The images in the boxes show enlarged cross-sections of the needles, but you don't need to make a microscopic analysis. Simply try to roll a single needle between your thumb and forefinger. If it rolls easily (if somewhat bumpily), it's spruce. By virtue of being flat, fir needles won't roll. Wasn't that easy?

Houseguests

Day 77: In and out, in and out. Nights in the low twenties might be fine for Sarracenias living in a bog, but with no more soil around their roots than can be contained in a pot, that's the point at which I bring them indoors for a sleep-over. When morning comes, it's back out on the porch for both of them. As you can see, the system is working. Sarracenia rubra (right) has been with me for three winters, and has gone from a mere half dozen pitchers to a pot so crowded, I may have to divide it next spring. Carolina Yellow Jacket (left) was a new addition to my collection of carnivorous plants early this spring. It has also multiplied rapidly. As exotic as they appear, the Sarracenias are amazingly hardy!

Relaxing, Crow-Style

Day 76: I started thinking about making orange marmalade way back in November but with the hustle and bustle of the holidays, it just wasn't going to happen. Today, I decided to "relax" in true Crow manner, lining up for a job of work running three hours from start to finish.

Removing the white pith and slicing orange and lemon peels thinly is a time-consuming project ordinarily, but this year, I discovered a shortcut which should have occurred to me years ago. I used a potato peeler! The width of the blade was perfect for creating the one-inch strips necessary for a good "shred" style marmalade, and I had only to do the imitation of a microtome I've perfected in preparing lichens for microscope slides in order to achieve thread-like bits of rind. The slivers of peel are cooked with a touch of baking soda until they are tender, and then the fruit is added and cooking continues for ten minutes to soften any remaining membrane. From that point, canning is the same as for most jam...boil, add pectin, cool slightly and pour into jars. I prefer to process my jams and jellies in a water bath to ensure a good seal. Unlike most jams and jellies, marmalade takes a week or two to set, but oh, it's worth the wait to have it homemade!

More Christmas Fun

Day 75: Warning! There are people out there who want you to Grow Up. You know who I mean. Maybe you work with them. Maybe they live next door. Maybe they're even some of your closest friends. Somewhere along the line they did, and now they want you to join them in their misery. If you've managed to get this far with some residual child in your soul, resist!

I think I was about ten when I first realized that something important to survival was fading from my life. Scientist that I was even then, I determined to isolate its essence in the hopes that I could tuck away a tiny bit of the distilled product in a safe location in my mind. For most purposes, I appear today to my colleagues and acquaintances to be a fully functioning adult, but there are a few close friends who know the Other Me, the child who enjoys silly songs, games and colouring books. I look forward to opening their gifts at any season, but especially at Christmas. Like any kid, I love Christmas morning.

So here's a bit of philosophy from a little old lady who never grew up: go be a kid for a while. And if you colour outside the lines...well, that's okay too.

Lego My Doctor!

Day 74: I am not one to endorse products ordinarily, but I cannot recall ever having been so favourably impressed with the quality of an item as I am with Legos. I bought the "Doctor Who" set after seeing it at at friend's (still in the box), although I did so with some reservation because it looked rather complicated for someone who had no prior experience with the brand. I grew up with wooden TinkerToys and in those days, Legos were not much more than bricks with bumps. Modern Legos are infinitely more complex, with tiny pieces which take the craft into a realm not too unlike model ship building. I'd fiddled with a handful of pieces from the huge bins maintained by Kevin's two sons, but quickly became frustrated when I couldn't put them together to make anything recognizable. I didn't realize you needed a blueprint. However, when you purchase a kit such as this, Lego comes through with the most thorough and clear assembly instructions I have ever seen, and does so without the need of language. The manual for this kit is a book, literally. The illustrations are large and are from perspectives which utterly annihilate any possibility of confusion. I've been taking my time this morning, but at this point, I have the TARDIS about a third of the way completed, and am finding that I am greatly enjoying the building process. Move over, jigsaw puzzles! I think I've found a new sport.

Christmas Greetings!

Day 73: You might think that a Christmas tree decorated largely with birds would be more temptation than any two cats should be asked to endure, but although I caught Skunk patting one of the lower ornaments, Tip is content to observe politely. Both of them have been known to investigate bows and ribbons, dragging lightweight gifts out into the middle of the floor, but they've been very well behaved this year. My good kitties and I would like to wish you all the most merry Christmas!

Chaos Beneath The Tree!

Day 72: Nooooooo! They only get let out once or twice a year, so you can't blame them for getting excited, but this was the scene this morning, ribbons and wrappings everywhere, and almost every present pecked or scratched. Utter chaos! But I couldn't be cross, not with all the happy chirping of seasonal carols (never mind that the crows sing off-key). The Bird Gang would like me to wish everyone the best for the holidays, and after all, there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas.

December Blues

Day 71: If you were born in the month of December, you are more fortunate than most when it comes to a selection of birthstones. There are three choices: blue zircon (if your taste runs to faceted stones), turquoise (for a more earthy look) and the classic elegance of lapis lazuli.

I bring this up because a friend just asked me if I could verify that a piece she owns is in fact lapis. I have not seen it yet, but I did advise her that there are a number of imitators (most notably, dyed howlite), but all lack the telltale flecks of pyrite which distinguish much true lapis. Lapis aficionados will argue whether or not pyrite is desirable and to my way of thinking, it's a matter of personal preference. I like it. On the other hand, the stonecutter is more likely to say that good lapis excludes pyrite because it makes it more difficult to grind and polish due to undercutting of the softer material.

I sold my rockhounding gear years ago after deciding that creating cabochons such as these was not worth the hours spent with wet, cold hands, but I kept much of my more valuable rough including a stash of genuine lapis. In any event, I seldom wear jewelry and get more pleasure from seeing the raw minerals in my collection.

Doctor Who

Day 70: To me, Christmas has always been a time of anticipation. That's half the fun, right? I've never been one for poking into packages or trying to read through the wrapping paper. In fact, I generally avoid handling Christmas gifts lest I guess what's inside them and spoil the surprise. That said, although I do participate in a rather elaborate gift exchange with two friends, living alone places me under the scope of Santa's radar and to offset that, I always buy myself a present for under the tree and then make myself wait until Christmas Day to open it.

Okay, yes, I admit I bought myself a microscope several weeks ago, but I had an immediate need for it, so it couldn't very well go under the tree unopened. However, when Lego released their Doctor Who set, I found myself considering purchasing a toy for myself. I was doing a good job of resisting temptation until I visited an astronomer friend who showed me hers, fresh off the shelf. Sigh. What could I do? I ordered it.

Here you see the unopened package. It will remain unopened until Christmas morning. It's only a few more days. I think I can muster that much resolve. (Be it noted that this will be my first experience with Legos. They've become much more complex than they were when I was a teen.)

Solstice Greetings To All!

Day 69: Since the Solstice will occur at an hour when any right-minded person should be entertaining visions of sugarplums, I will take this opportunity to wish my friends and readers the joys of the day. In any event, the occasion has been ushered in with a fall of snow: winter has arrived a few hours early to the party, and by all estimates, will probably overstay its welcome. For now, however, I am delighted by the storybook scene outside my window, as visually traditional of the season as Currier and Ives. Let it snow! Here in my snug domain, I will dance the holly and the mistletoe. The Light is returning! Dark nights swiftly go!

And The Stockings Were Hung

Day 68: Since November 30, I have turned out ten pair of socks in women's sizes 6-9. I don't recall an occasion when I have worked as steadfastly at the needles over such a prolonged period. Even though both friends who placed their orders told me that I didn't need to rush, I felt compelled to get the job done quickly so that they would have them in time for Christmas gift-giving. There were a couple of days when I turned out less than a whole sock, but others when by bedtime, I had completed a sock and a half.

I credit my swiftness to knitting in the European style ("picking" as opposed to "throwing"). In picking, the yarn is held in the left hand. The right hand stays almost stationary and the yarn is brought forward to purl by a simple movement of the left index finger. It makes ribbing a breeze! Interestingly enough, I was taught by my paternal grandmother to pick, although I learned most of my other needle skills from my mother's mother. She insisted that I throw, so until I was on my own in the world, I abandoned picking and struggled with the tedium of throwing the yarn with each stitch. Once I reverted to the European style, knitting became a much more enjoyable task. Socks remain one of my favourite projects, but maybe I'll take my time with the next pair.

Mount Rainier's Christmas Faerie

Photo by Kevin Bacher

Day 67: My duties at Mount Rainier National Park are varied. Most of the time, you'll find me in the office, seated at a computer and entering information from the dozens of volunteer applications we receive every year. You may also encounter me in the field, often as not flat out on the forest floor with my camera trained on some rare plant or specimen of lichen. You might also see me in the campground, gathering storm debris or putting up tents for our summer volunteers. I've often said I'll do any task assigned to me with the exception of plumbing, a subject I learned to avoid when working at Carbon River in the late 70s, but the latest addition to my growing list of position descriptions is truly unique.

Santa's schedule is pretty full at this time of the year, and some kids (most, I think) are a bit leery of the jolly old fellow, particularly when they're very young. But what child could be afraid of a faerie not much larger than themselves? As it turns out, Mount Rainier National Park has its very own Christmas faerie who appeared magically at the holiday party Thursday night to hand out bags of treats and toys to the children of our employees. Only one youngster was nervous about approaching her, but with a very small nudge from dad, came forward to accept a gift. Several were intrigued by the faerie's wings, touching them gently, as if afraid they might frighten the woodland sprite away. Once her bag of surprises was empty, the faerie disappeared from the hall as mysteriously as she had arrived. Unfortunately, I was absent while she engaged the children, and have only this photo taken by Kevin to prove her existence to me.

Live-Trapped!

Day 66: Having discovered a den a few years back, I went upon an exploratory quest a month ago to see if the beasts were still active. Noting that the colony was thriving, I observed them for a time before laying baits, but then several smaller members of the species approached warily. I left them undisturbed, my eye set on larger game. Today, at long last, I sprung the live-trap, capturing a two-pound haggis in its prime. It was much easier to take the prize in this manner than the customary armoured, armed hunt, and I am assured of the freshness of the creature's succulent meat when I have fattened it sufficiently to slaughter in celebration of Robert Burns' birthday on January 25th.

Twelve Days, Two Friends

Day 65: Although I generally don't have much good to say about the internet, if it hadn't been for computer technology, I might never have met the two women who are my "sisters of the heart." We became acquainted through a forum about ten years ago, a friendship which evolved into in-person visits and fun adventures on both sides of the country. With them, I share a "Twelve Days of Christmas" tradition of gift-giving, gathering or making twelve presents throughout the year which are then opened in numerical order on the eleven days preceding Christmas, winding up on Christmas Day with a final gift. We "wrap" gifts in cloth bags whenever possible, tie them shut with real ribbons and sometimes add tags which can also be recycled the following year. It makes so much more sense than throwing away piles of paper which has only seen one use.

December Porch Parrots

Day 64: The yard is alive...with the sound of chirping...CHURP! CHURP! Chomp-chomp-chomp! CHURP! CHURP! (squabble) CHURP! Chomp-chomp-chomp! The Porch Parrots arrived en masse a few days ago, cleaned the feeders in a matter of minutes and were back the next day for more. They skipped one day (or maybe I just didn't see them), but today the feeders are again full of cranky Porchies who are sure the seed their neighbour just ate was better than the one they picked up. Even the females are argumentative, but disputes are never too serious. A few snaps of the beak in the direction of the lower-ranking intruder is all it takes for the dominant bird to establish its position.

Porch Parrots - Coccothraustes vespertinus, Evening Grosbeak - are some of my favourite people. They earned their nickname in a twofold process. The first step occurred while I was hiking the Wonderland Trail with my husband when he discovered them near our camp at Summerland. He drew my attention by saying, "Come here! There's a whole tree full of parrots!" Some years later, the eruption of Mt. St. Helens threw them off their migration route, and hundreds of them came to our porch to feed. They've been "Porch Parrots" ever since, and they've never missed a year, often going through as much as 600 pounds of black-oil seed in a year. What can I say? I'm a sucker for birds.

Scoping Out Spray Paint

Day 63: The pinkish apothecia of Spray-Paint Lichen (Icmadophila ericetorum) seldom measure more than 3 mm. in diameter and are hardly noticeably to a casual observer. The blue-green crustose thallus will be the first thing to catch the eye, but it is quickly dismissed when the apothecia are discovered. However, under the microscope (large circle), the thallus is revealed to be a lumpy, bumpy world all of its own. Where many lichens appear leafy (foliose), Icmadophila is grainy, a characteristic which allows it to retain precious moisture during dry weather. Every dewdrop counts when you're a lichen!

So Very Wrong

Day 62: This is wrong on so many levels, I can't begin to count them. Yes, that is my dirt in my garden, and those are bloody flippin' daffodils poking their little heads up, and it's not even Christmas. I live in the Pacific Northwest, not southern California. This is a sight I should not see until February at the earliest. Winter hasn't even begun, and here is Spring, starting already. Ma Nature must have flipped an extra page on her calendar. If I thought I was busy chasing rare Orchidaceae and mycoheterotrophs in April and May of 2015, 2016 may be even more exciting.

Holiday Visitors

Day 61: I looked up from my knitting at the sound of many familiar voices outside the window, there to see at least two dozen porch parrots (Evening Grosbeaks to you) squabbling over the best spots at three feeders and on the ground. They are resident here from April or May until September, but occasionally, a group of holiday travellers will pass through during the winter. They have my yard marked as a reliable source of black-oil sunflower seed, the favourite from the smorgasbord I use to attract a wide variety of birds. That said, this lot was skittish, unlike my summer crowd. As soon as I opened the back door to take a photo, every bird but this one female lit out for the trees across the road.

Peltigera Membranacea, Membranous Dog-Lichen

Day 60: In yesterday's post, I mentioned the rhizines which appear on the underside of Peltigera membranacea's "leaves" (the thallus). These brown structures are its apothecia, the fruiting bodies which produce the lichen's spores. Their resemblance to badly ingrown toenails is one of the defining characteristics of the species. Other Peltigeras produce similar apothecia at the tips of their lobes, but none is so markedly curled as that of Membranous Dog-Lichen. Why "dog?" I honestly don't know, unless it is because they are lightly furry. The Peltigeras are divided into two groups. "Dog-lichens" exhibit a tomentum (fuzziness) on the upper surface (refer to yesterday's glossary) and "Pelt lichens" which are either shiny or rough (scabrose). To further confuse matters, the Peltigeras are often referred to generically as "the Pelts."

Nesting Nidula

Day 59: One day I returned a little late to the office after a lunchtime walk and was explaining to Kevin that I had been sidetracked by a specimen of Hemitomes congestum while searching for Drosera rotundifolia, blathering on about the uniqueness of the find and the proliferation of mycoheterotrophic species I had been observing through the months of spring, only to have him say, "Crow, I have no idea what you're talking about." It pulled me up short and made me see that while I was throwing around botanical names and terms as casually as if I had been talking about Fred and George, most people are a bit uncomfortable with scientific jargon. I realize now that it might be easier on my readers if I provided a glossary, so let me give you one to accompany this photo of one of my favourite fungi, Nidula niveotomentosa, aka "Bird's-Nest Fungus."

Very often, the Latin name of a species will tell you something about its characteristics. In this case, "-tomentosa" refers to the presence of a tomentum, a velvety or woolly texture found on the surface of a plant. The view through the microscope at the top left shows this attribute...a fuzzy-wuzzy nest for the "eggs" which give this family of fungi its common name. The "eggs" (shown in the nest in the center 'scope view) are called peridioles. These contain spores. The bottom 'scope view shows the peridioles liberated from the "cup," appropriately called a peridium.

On the right, you can see the Bird's-Nests in situ alongside a flourishing colony of Peltigera membranacea, a member of the family of Pelt lichens. The translucent structures which appear like stalactites on the underside of the "leaf" are rhizines, a root-like structure which attaches the lichen to its substrate of rock, wood or soil. If you think fungus-jive is hard to wrap your tongue around, lichen terminology is another breed of cat. We'll get to that in future posts.

While You Were Out...

Day 58: You'd think I'd learn not to leave my camera unattended at work. While I was in a morning meeting, this chap sneaked a selfie. I've seen him around the office, but don't know his name. I just refer to him mentally as Oscar. How do I know it was a selfie? Kevin was in a different meeting, and in any event would never have used centered composition for a shot like this. He's much too skilled at photography to commit that sin.

Ian's Car

Day 57: Imagine finding this as you were leaving for work. This is the sight which greeted our SCA Centennial Ambassador Ian this morning. Yes, it's his car, the most damaged of three which were attacked by a Douglas fir overnight. Whether snapped by a freak gust of wind or by the weight of torrential rain caught in its needles, the tree left behind a four-foot tall shattered snag and blocked one leg of the loop through housing at Tahoma Woods. When I arrived on the scene several hours after it was discovered, crews were preparing to section the tree for removal, and Ian was waiting patiently for a call from his insurance adjuster. His tour of duty at Mount Rainier National Park is certainly proving to be unforgettable!

Completely Unstrung

Day 56: "It seemed like a good idea at the time." Famous words, those...or infamous. If I had used my head, I would have realized that in this era of "use it once and throw it away" that a pre-lit Christmas tree wasn't a good idea, but I was looking for something to make my life a little easier. I suppose I should be happy that I got two years of good use out of it before one strand of the lights stopped working and refused to respond to any intervention on my part. I changed the fuses. I checked the bulbs. Concluding that the only other solution must be a bad wire, I took it upon myself to unstring it. What was the figure? 300? Each light was held on with either a zip-tie or something resembling a miniature bread clip. One required wire cutters to remove, the other a pair of pliers. Three and a half hours later, the tree and the Crow were both entirely unstrung. I can get new lights for the tree, but I think my personal battery has gone flat permanently.

The Week In Socks

Day 55: Every year I make several pair of socks for the Park's Christmas party silent auction which benefits our Employee Association. Last year, I put out three pair. One of my colleagues was bidding on all three, but got nudged out on all but one pair. This year, she wanted to be sure she had socks for gifts, so on November 30 when we met to start planning the party, she told me she wanted four pair. That was one week ago, and my fingers have been flying. I'm on Sock #8!

Fortunately, socks are one of my favourite things to knit. Although the idea scares many knitters away from tackling the task, turning a heel isn't as difficult as it sounds. Beginners may want to make notes as they complete rows, but with very little practice, you'll learn to recognize the points at which decreases should be made while shaping. When picking up stitches for the triangular side gusset, I use markers so I don't have to count.

I'd never really thought about how long it took to knit a sock. I usually just pick away at them in my idle time, but with time constraints driving me, I discovered that on average, one worsted-weight sock takes about five hours to complete. When #8 is done, I think I'll just keep going. Might as well lay in a supply for next year's silent auction!

Noel Of Small Birds

Day 54: For as long as I have lived in my present home, it has been my tradition to put up a few decorations on St. Nicholas Day, although I generally wait until somewhat later in the month to put up the tree. The "bird wreath" is always the first to go up. But for one, the birds are all fairly accurate representations of specific species: Blue Jays, a Goldfinch, a Cedar Waxwing, a Red-Headed Woodpecker, Anna's Hummingbird, a White-Breasted Nuthatch, Cardinals, and a Crow, without which any wreath of mine would have seemed incomplete. The one exception is a little pink bird in a nest who arrived at my hospital bedside in a pot of tulips following a surgery many years ago. Of course Blue Jays are not found in the Pacific Northwest, but they were as close as I could get to a Steller's Jay, nor are Cardinals, but they are the bird most often associated with the holiday season.

My tree will also be filled with birds of all shapes and sizes: tiny woodcarvings, flat cutouts, three-dimensional metal figures, faceted faux crystal, blown glass. There are Cockatoos and Crows, Parrots, Cardinals and Grey Jays, fat Chickadees, Owls, and even a pair of farmyard chicks who look like they escaped from someone's Easter basket. Not that I forget very often, but they serve to remind me to keep the feeders filled so that no one goes hungry.

All the birds of winter gather in to find a shelter,
Begging for a bit of food and warmth in the cold weather.
From their homes in barren trees, sparrows go, and chickadees.
Finches search for bright berries, flying back with treasure.
Gifts of Man shall help in need; crumbs of bread and scattered seed.
Thankful small birds all, indeed! Merry to a feather!

Don't forget the little people in your yard. Put out seed and water daily.

Totally Tubular

 Day 52: A number of very similar tube lichens grow in the Pacific Northwest, and a dissecting microscope and chemical testing may be needed to differentiate them. For the most part, the Hypogymnias feel somewhat like fragments of balloon, i.e. rubbery and limp, and will stretch significantly without tearing. The lobes are hollow, as can be seen in many cases by close observation of the tips (upper left). The lower surface is black, and the upper surface may be flecked with black pycnidia as well. The apothecia are generally large and obvious, and may be perforated at the center (lower right). The Hypogymnias occur commonly on conifers including Douglas fir. Absence of smaller lobules along the margins of the main lobes suggests that this specimen from Longmire is Hypogymnia apinnata (as opposed to H. enteromorpha which exhibits that characteristic).

Sectioning For Spores

Day 52: I am extremely grateful to Dr. Irwin Brodo (author of the forty-pound field guide, "Lichens of North America," and Ernie to his friends) for his patience in instructing me how to section lichen apothecia in order to reveal the spores. I can now do a much better imitation of a microtome than previously. We have not positively identified this specimen as of this writing, but evidence suggests that it is Alectoria sarmentosa, a common species often found growing on Douglas Fir. The sample on the left was scraped from the apothecial disk of a dry specimen; the one on the right is fresh material. My new microscope is proving to be a valuable tool in furthering my knowledge of lichens.

Killer Tree

Day 51: As recently proved by a storm which took down 65 trees one to three feet in diameter in a small section of Longmire Campground, the forest can be a dangerous place to work. When trees are analyzed and determined to be hazardous to structures, people or roads, Mount Rainier National Park has a dedicated "hazard tree" team which removes them. Determining the degree of hazard posed by any individual tree may be as simple as visual observation; in other cases, it requires boring into its core.

It's easy to see why this middle-aged Doug fir was classed as a hazard tree. Its heartwood was entirely rotted away leaving nothing but a husk of deteriorating wood and bark. It and an adjacent tree were earmarked for removal, but only one was taken down before the big windstorm hit the campground three weeks ago. Oddly, its partner in infamy remained standing, a "killer tree" waiting for its moment.

A Tangled Web

Day 50: I thought I had this figured out, but when I got a small specimen home and began examining it, I was forced to rethink my identification. Faced with two new options, I subjected a section to chemical analysis. It tested negative for a chlorine reaction, eliminating Alectoria sarmentosa from the running. Still, it didn't quite fit the brief for Ramalina thrausta because the tips of the finer branches lacked the typical curl. Apothecia were very rare (a characteristic of that species); I examined hundreds, literally hundreds of examples in the Longmire compound and only found two clumps where apothecia were present, and they were within inches of each other behind Macy Dorm. Admittedly, Brodo (the "forty-pound field guide") only contains about 30% of North American lichen species, but I would think that as common as this Ramalina is at Longmire, it must occur elsewhere in the Pacific Northwest. I hesitate to classify it as R. thrausta, although I suspect that's what it is.

Footnote: I felt silly asking about a common lichen, but this one can be tricky. I contacted Dr. Brodo who said he believes it is Alectoria sarmentosa (I should have done a KC test instead of a C). He suggested checking the spores under the microscope. I did, and they seem to confirm the identification but for one thing: they're blue, not brown. We're still hashing it out.

Tee Garden

Day 49: We all know that the game of golf originated in Scotland, right? And Scotland is very like the Pacific Northwest in climate, i.e., damp and rather grey. Although I don't know this for a fact, I would guess that it has an abundance of lichens, and surely among them you could find a number of representatives of the Cladonias. It's a whimsical thought to be sure, but imagine if you will a kilted clansman about to place his leathern ball on the green. His head turns. He's spotted a narrow stalk topped with a cup-shaped form of the exact size to hold the ball. History is made as our redoubtable Scot nestles his gamepiece into the bowl of a specimen of Cladonia fimbriata where it is held securely until he pelts it mightily with his blackthorn and sends it sailing into a gorse thicket, there to remain until the final days of Planet Earth.

I found the mother of all tee gardens on my Nisqually Land Trust beat today. I'd stopped by Ohop Valley to check on the trees we planted a few weeks ago and was delighted to see that a second crew had been in to place protective plastic sleeves around each one. A piece of rotten fence drew my attention, and when I looked up from the single specimen I had just photographed growing on its length, I noticed another rail, its sunward vertical side bearing hundreds of C. fimibriata podetia. I removed one single example to bring home in order to confirm my identification (inset shows the finely farinose soredia), and although it was spongy at the time I picked it, two hours later it had dried to the point that it felt wooden. It was still too flexible to be used as a golf tee but rigid enough to inspire speculation as to the origin of the device. Aye, an' 'tis not so unreasonable to think, eh?