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?