Sorting Out Hypogymnia

Day 138: Well! That came as a bit of a surprise! I have several Hypogymnias occupying my fence rails and had identified H. inactiva and H. pinnata previously by examining the inside of the tubular thallus. As a group, the Hypogymnias are known by the common name "tube lichens," referring to their hollow structure. Most are black on the reverse and have various degrees of black speckling on the front; some have tubes which are open at the ends, and some fork in distinctive manners. All these characteristics help separate them by species, but when it comes to the trio of inactiva, pinnata and imshaugii, surgery is required to reveal the medullary ceiling. Inactiva's ceiling is black. Pinnata's is dark, and therefore the two can be confused. However, imshaugii's medullary ceiling is white (circular inset). I'm glad I checked! And thus a new name has been conferred upon part of my garden: the Imshaugii Rail.

Undeniable Evidence

Day 137: If this scene fails to inspire you to break out the seed catalogs, you're beyond all hope of redemption. Snow or no, the daffodils are solid evidence that Spring is on the way, and every year, their white-petalled, orange-cupped blossoms bring up a discussion of the differences between daffodils, narcissi and jonquils. Okay, let's lay the facts on the table.

To start with, all three terms fall under the scientific name of Narcissus. Colloquially (and therefore not strictly speaking "correctly"), "daffodil" refers to the larger-flowered varieties with long trumpets. Likewise, "narcissus" covers small-flowered species with short trumpets or cups. "Jonquil" refers to those plants which bear more than one flower per stem (again, colloquially). "So what about miniatures? And the ones with half-length trumpets?" you ask. "Narcissi," I reply, because I always default to the scientific name if there's any doubt when someone is asking me for an "official" determination. I'm not fond of common names. They are often shared among completely unrelated species, and can exhibit quite a variety of regional permutations (i.e., Texas "bluebonnets" are a lupine under a pseudonym). Still, no matter what you call them, they announce the arrival of Spring in full voice, a glad invocation against winter's thrall.

La Cebolla

Day 136: Me gusta la cebolla. Ellas comen las cebollas. La cebolla no es un animale, es un vegetale. Yes, I am back practicing Spanish again. I have a decent vocabulary, but my grammar is appalling. The simplest things like "who," "which" and "how" trip me up. I can make my verbs agree with their subjects and my sentence structure is reasonably good, but those little words need a lot more practice, and to that end, I have signed on with DuoLingo. The site was recommended to me by a native speaker who teaches intermediate and advanced classes in the same building as Morris dance practice. When I arrived early a few weeks ago, I sat outside the door listening in. When I spoke with her afterwards, she suggested DuoLingo as a prerequisite for her intermediate class. Oh, how I would love to become fluent!

DuoLingo lets you go at your own pace, and allows you to return to earlier lessons for practice. The student is asked to type in responses. Sometimes, an unmistakable visual clue is given; other times, you are given a sentence and asked to translate it to or from Spanish. By typing in the words over and over, the spellings and tenses are drilled into your head without the need for painful memorization. I'm finding it quite an enjoyable way to learn a second language (or in my case, refine one I'd already begun to study). They offer courses in many other languages as well...and KLINGON is in the works! That will be my next project.

Gardening In Miniature

Day 135: It's well-known that I am a complete failure when it comes to growing vegetables, but have a reasonable amount of success with flowers. I tend the flowerbeds fairly regularly in spring, keeping them weed-free until summer activities distract me from their care. I water during hot spells, seldom otherwise, and have identified certain species which are capable of surviving my lackadaisical treatment. That said, my garden is generally a riot of colour from June through September, if completely devoid of anything which might be called organization or scheme. However, in addition to enjoying blooming annuals and perennials, I take equal delight in the miniature landscapes which occupy the cedar split-rail fence: mosses and lichens of all shapes and sizes. Not a dry day passes that I don't stop to look more closely at one of my "garden-variety" lichens when I walk out to get the mail or feed the birds. It pleases me as much to see a colony of Cladonia coniocraea flourishing as it does to have nasturtiums cascading from a hanging basket or cosmos nodding over the sidewalk.

So Far, So Good

Day 134: The first signs of a successful relocation are beginning to show on the gooseberries. I moved them last spring from a site where they had been most unhappy and unproductive, shaded out by a hawthorn tree I wish I'd never planted. Oh, the hawthorn provides fruit for the birds, but it is aggressive and over 15 feet tall. I'd take it out, but can't figure out how to cut it down without risking impalement by its thorns. The gooseberries are thorny as well, but in theory will pay for their right to scratch me by providing enough tart fruit for a jar of jam or two some day. If they're not happy in their new home, I'll move them to pots and grow them like the blueberries. Yep, I'm already thinking about digging more holes in my yard!

Here It Comes!

Day 133: Spring is beginning! The first of my pussywillows popped about two weeks ago, and although the tree doesn't have a lot on it yet, the signs of the season are there to see, right outside my kitchen window. Other portents are emerging: 3-4" daffodil shoots, a few curly tulip leaves, threads of grape hyacinth. It's happening. Spring is coming! But wait...what are those white things drifting down? Sigh. Ma Nature is playing tricks on me again.

Totality 2-26-1979

Day 132: In case any of my readers have missed the announcement, a total eclipse of the sun will be visible in a 60-mile wide ribbon which will travel across the country roughly from Lincoln City, OR, to South Carolina on August 21, 2017. The last time a total eclipse was visible in the continental US was on February 26, 1979. I had the great good fortune to be able to view it from the Stonehenge replica at Maryhill, WA. That was when I captured this image using a Mamiya-Sekor 1000 DTL and Kodachrome film (ASA unknown). The slides have deteriorated over the last 38 years, but despite imperfections and grain, still show the corona and multiple prominences.

Although we noticed the "eclipse wind" and sudden drop in air temperature, my husband and I didn't witness any of the other phenomena which sometimes occur during totality, but perhaps that was because we didn't know to look for them. Viewers have reported shimmering bands of darkness on light-coloured ground, other-worldly super-saturation of colours and intense, crisply-edged shadows, but these only occur over a span of minutes, and if your attention is focused on the sky, you may miss them.

Partiality will be visible to a wider audience in a 140-mile wide band, but weather and circumstance permitting, I hope to be in the path of total darkness in August, camera and telescope on hand. It will be the last chance I have to see a total eclipse in my lifetime.

Teddy Bear Brights Afghan

Day 131: I am not enjoying being penned in the house by weather, but at least I'm getting projects done. It's wet-chilly, the kind of clammy cold which I am convinced is under proprietary license to western Washington; a cold which goes through all your layers, Goretex, microfiber fleece, wool, polypro, epidermis, dermis, bones. It is not a cold which invites you to hike. A warming pace generates perspiration which in turn chills down without evaporating, demanding that you hike faster and therefore perspire more heavily, and consequently chill down more quickly as your clothing becomes soaked with sweat. It is a no-win cold, an unrelenting, oppressing, weighty cold, a burden not even coffee and chicken soup can lighten. The thermometer (a brazen liar!) reports 40 degrees. It feels like 20, a wet, soggy, sodden, soaking, pervasive 20, but it doesn't freeze. Freezing would be a kindness it would never willingly convey. I don't like stepping out in it even just to fill the bird feeders, so I stay indoors and keep my hands busy with yarn while my thoughts search out lichens in dimly-recalled warmth.

Reversible Cloche

Day 130: The friend who has generously donated almost all of the yarn for my current projects asked me to post a photo of the "reversible" adaptation to my original cloche pattern published February 4. I've made several single-layered caps, and while working on them, went through assorted spatial manipulations in my mind to figure out the best way to double the thickness of the hat, but not the ribbing. Since the rib matched one of the colours in the variegated yarn, I made the solid-colour cap first. Then keeping it rightside-out, I folded the ribbing toward me and picked up the first complete row of "bumps" where the pattern changed to stockinette stitch. Be very careful to pick up stitches only in that row! It is easy to angle off into the stockinette row above it. I found it easier to pick up the "bumps" without knitting them. Once they were all on my circular needle, I attached the variegated yarn and completed the cap following the pattern from that point. To finish the cloche and keep the halves from shifting and bunching, take a tack stitch through the top to join the layers securely. NB: it might be a good idea to add two rows of stockinette to the original pattern before the decreases to accommodate the increase in thickness. This version covers the tips of my ears, but won't keep the wind from whistling through them.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox - Protest

Day 129 (bonus post): I take no credit for this, not even for finding it. It was sent to me by a friend, and is in the public domain.

PROTEST
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(b. Nov. 5, 1850 – d. Oct. 30, 1919)

To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest. Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance, and lust,
The inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills;
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and childbearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.

Therefore I do protest against the boast
Of independence in this mighty land.
Call no chain strong, which holds one rusted link.
Call no land free, that holds one fettered slave.
Until the manacled slim wrists of babes
Are loosed to toss in childish sport and glee,
Until the mother bears no burden, save
The precious one beneath her heart, until
God’s soil is rescued from the clutch of greed
And given back to labor, let no man
Call this the land of freedom.

Periurus Acernis, Perjured Maple Moth

Day 129: While many insects exhibit camouflage colouring and wing form, none does it quite as well as the Perjured Maple Moth (Periurus acernis). Only recently discovered in Washington state, it is easy to see how it might have been present here for centuries without being noticed. I was fortunate to find this specimen (a male - it lacks the abdominal sac typical of females) at Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge. The stiffly-haired thorax affords it protection from nut-eating mammals such as squirrels and small children. During its mating cycle, the wings are shed and the thorax ruptures to expose its reproductive organs.

You can't make up stuff like this...or can you? 'Fess up! Who bought into my little joke?

Cephalodia Scrape-Test

Day 128: New word for you: cephalodia (SEF-uh-LO-dee-uh, singular "cephalodium"), i.e, "a small gall-like growth that contains cyanobacteria and occurs within the tissues or on the surface of some lichens with green algal photobionts." What the definition neglects to mention is that each cephalodium is a reproductive structure, in essence a mini-lichen which when detached, can reattach to the substrate and become a full-sized specimen.

"Detach" is the keystone word in this story. When I first discovered this colony, it was quite dry and the cephalodia were firmly attached to the thallus. Consequently, I misidentified it as Peltigera aphthosa. After the lichen had rehydrated some months later, I happened to brush against one of the lobes while examining something else, and noticed as I drew back that the cephalodia had fallen from one section. I tested another area with a swipe of my finger. Sure enough, the little black dots wiped away easily. "Well!" says I. "You're britannica after all!" (Parkie friends are used to me talking to natural objects.)

Compare the areas circled in red in these two photos. Although lightly attached, the cephalodia were easily scraped off by my thumbnail, leaving behind small white dots (the green algal photobiont came away with them). This is a quick and easy field test which will separate these two confusing Peltigeras. Yes, I cleaned them out from under my thumbnail and left them where they could continue to reproduce.

Gender Identity

Day 127: Today, I want to talk to my readers about gender identity. Don't walk off, dammit. I'd like to introduce something you probably haven't considered. In a way, this will be my "coming out," and no, I am not gay.

When the words "gay," "bisexual," "heterosexual," "transsexual" and others are listed in one place with the option to choose one as your preferred gender identity, there is no box for "non-gendered," no choice for "none of the above." Admittedly, I am built like a woman. That can't be denied, but the stereotypical gender markers are absent in me. I don't like babies, romance novels or cute clothing. I dress in a rather masculine style because frills and ruffles don't fit my outdoor lifestyle, but I am not interested in cars, hunting or beer parties. Although I'm tiny, I have been addressed as "Sir" on more occasions than I care to count due to my square-shouldered posture and assertive walk. That said, I have been married (twice), have been in several relationships, have had numerous crushes, but the attachment in my mind has always been philosophical, not physical. When it came down to field testing (if you take my meaning), my response was invariably a bored, "Can we hurry up and get this over with? There's a lichen I want to check out before it starts raining." But more importantly, I do not identify with a gender. I'm just...me.

Strangely, the idea of being non-gendered has drawn the same reaction from many of my friends, both heterosexual and gay: "There must be something wrong with you." Some of them have attempted to change me, employing the same "this can be fixed" attitude that has been suggested to "cure" their own gender identities. That response baffles me. What's wrong with not being interested in a particular recreation (because that's what sex is, after all)? I don't like golf or baseball, either.

Love is broader than gender and physicality. Friends have often described my relationship with Nature as "intimate." That word has a larger definition than how it applies in the bedroom. It includes understanding the moods and whims of my partner, taking care of her, at times placing her welfare above my own. She rewards me by providing food and shelter, and by revealing to me some of her innermost secrets: close views of wildlife and rare plants. But try entering "In a relationship ... with Nature" on your Facebook account! Nope, that's not going to happen until "gender identity" includes those of us whose passion is given to abstractions, and who dismiss bedroom business as a dreadful bore.

A Light In The Dark

Day 126: During the brighter era of a few months past, a friend and I were discussing his electronics project: constructing a panel of small, randomly blinking lights. I'd built something similar from a kit when I was in my early 20s, but it utilized bulky resistors and capacitors, quite unlike anything we see today. I knew nothing about circuitry. I simply soldered A to point B on a pre-made board and hitched up the wires. My "do-nothing light" was powered by a 4" x 4" x 2" 9-volt battery which seemed like overkill at the time, considering that its function was to fire grain-of-wheat lights only one or two at a time. In building it, I left 12" leads from the tiny lights, wrapped them with green florists' tape, and surrounded each light with hand-cut velour petals to resemble daisies. It blinked merrily for a year or so, and then was lost in a move to another state. I searched in vain for a replacement kit, and finally gave up all hope of ever having anything like it in my home.

Enter Seamus and his project. When I found out what he was working on, I begged him to make one for me. We exchanged several emails to work out the details: how many lights, what colour, and a price. Then I settled down to wait. You can't rush these things.

I won't say I'd forgotten about it, but I'd almost given up hope and felt that nagging would have been rude and unfriendly. I often chatted with Seamus, but the subject of the do-nothing light was never brought up. Then the dark times settled upon us, and kindred spirits again aligned to prop each other up (and believe me, I was in a very dark place). Then one day, Seamus said, "I'm going to be sending you something. Watch your mail." When I replied, he confirmed that it was the blinky-box...as a gift.

It arrived day before yesterday, still with a small charge in the solar cell despite having been in the box for a week. I sat it in a window and it charged fully in just a few hours, and kept blinking all night long, random blurts of red, green, purple, orange, yellow and blue. It wasn't until the following morning that I discovered the card which had fallen out of the wrappings and onto a chair (a wonder the cats didn't eat it!). It said, "It is in times of darkness that the points of light shine the brightest." Thank you, Seamus, for being a point of light when I needed it most.

Seeing Double

Day 125: Just to demonstrate how confusing lichen identification can be, here is another specimen of Ochrolechia laevigata with disks exhibiting the double-rim structure characteristic of closely related O. oregonensis. However, O. oregonensis occurs only on conifer bark, O. laevigata on deciduous species. The substrate here is vine maple (Acer circinatum), a species which frequently hosts this common lichen. It may also appear on alder and cottonwood. It's fortunate that I found this specimen on a living tree. If the bark had been detached, I might have drawn the wrong conclusion.

Set And Match

Day 124: As much as I love making socks, they do occasionally get boring, and in any event, I think every other person who works at Mount Rainier National Park has at least one pair of them by now (or at least it feels like it). After creating the cloche pattern for my "brain" hat, it occurred to me that I could go in a different direction for this year's silent auction contributions: a hat and mittens set! I knocked this one off in two and a half days, added the leaves as an afterthought. I'll make some socks as well, but this is a pleasant diversion.

What Big Ears You Have

Day 123: All too frequently, I see people in nature preserves and wild areas walking with their eyes glued to their phones (or talking on them), oblivious to the world around them. I don't understand the mentality. Why go into a natural area if you do not intend to experience it with all possible senses? You won't hear the soft hoot of a nesting owl with a phone at your ear. You won't see a family of deer if you're chasing virtual creatures on your screen. The family ahead of me on the boardwalk walked past two browsing does without a glance at them, missing the opportunity to point them out to the youngest member of the group (kindergarten age). Okay, deer are common. My point is that they didn't even SEE them. And what about the parties (several) who passed the Great Horned Owl by, not even curious as to what the paparazzi had gathered to photograph? Of course I don't expect people to share my enthusiasm for lichens on fence rails, but I was appalled at the number of people who seemed oblivious to nature even though they'd paid a fee to see it "in the raw."

A Refuge For Ochrolechia Laevigata

Day 122: There I was, walking along the boardwalk at Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge, nudging the occasional foliose lichen and commenting aloud on their identities, but dismissing the common pale green crustose presence without truly getting in close. I had paused to sort out an Usnea on the wooden rail and was stepping away when little orange disks caught my eye. "Hang on a mo'," I said. "That's Ochrolechia!"

Now how could Crow have missed this, you wonder? Well, let me put it in perspective because I didn't think to drag out my penny. A standard pencil eraser is approximately 6 mm. The largest disk in this photo would measure out at roughly 2 mm or a little smaller. You could arrange six of the mid-sized ones on top of an eraser with space for imaginary grout between them.

Several Ochrolechias occur in the Pacific Northwest and can be separated from each other by identifying the substrate on which they are growing, or by performing chemical tests. Ochrolechia laevigata responds to the application of common chlorine bleach by turning red, a "C+" reaction.

Heron In Repose

Day 121: The Nisqually Land Trust held a workshop for site stewards old and new at Billy Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge this morning, which gave me the perfect excuse for a nature walk. After sitting for several hours, I was more than ready for a two-mile sprint to the end of the boardwalk, but I had forgotten about the seasonal closure of the last 700'. I find it hard to reconcile duck hunting with a refuge, but I am not the land manager. I'm sure there was wisdom in the decision, or at the very least, an agreeable trade-off. That said, the wildlife seems to know to stay close in, and several Great Blue Herons provided plenty of photo ops. Sleepy Sam untucked for the classic heron portrait, but I have tons of wide-awake heron images in my files, not nearly as cute (in my opinion) as Heron In Repose.

Snowdrop Surprise

Day 120: It's possible some of my readers will remember that last year about this time, I dug up a small clump of Snowdrops (non-native, found growing a ways off the Bud Blancher Trail) and planted them in my front flower bed. You might remember that. I did not. They took me totally by surprise while I was out looking for "blog shot" material this morning, to the extent that I said aloud, "Waitaminit, those aren't crocuses...that looks like Snowdrops" before the recollection hit me. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised.

Most of the plants I've purchased are carefully labelled, as are some I've lifted (I mean in the botanical sense, of course) from various locations, but only if I have enough information to determine species. "Snowdrops" is a fairly generic term. Are there varieties/cultivars? I'm sure there must be, but I could probably never track down the full identity of a plant discarded from someone's garden as these were. They were "volunteers," as my grandmother called them...bulbs pitched into the woods after being thinned, sufficiently sturdy to set up housekeeping on their own without so much as a shovelful of dirt dropped on top of them; plants with persistence and vigour. Go, you little Snowdrops, and thanks resetting my perspective.

Flat-Earthers

Day 119 (caught up - backdated posts below): If I had a dollar for every person who has said to me, "I think the scientists are wrong about global warming. Look how much more snow we had last year," I could retire quite happily and live off the interest, so I'm going to give a very simplified explanation for those of you who are being deceived by your eyes. If you don't "get it" after this, I wash my hands of you.

There is a lot of water on this little blue marble we call home. It's in oceans and lakes and rivers, and it's also in less obvious places like glaciers and ice fields. When the weather is warm and dry, a portion of this surface water evaporates and is held in the atmosphere. The higher the temperature goes and the drier it gets, the evaporation rate increases. When temperatures cool again, that moisure condenses and falls back to Earth as rain or snow. This can and does occur regionally as a perfectly normal process. When it occurs on a global scale, we see more record events and "super-storms." That is what is occurring at the present time: a deviation out of the range of normal cycles. Our glaciers and ice fields are diminishing, and sea level is rising as the water which was once stockpiled as ice is carried aloft and re-deposited in liquid form.

My tolerance for willful ignorance and the "flat-earth mentality" of certain sectors of our population is at an all-time low presently. Even if you choose not to "believe" in global warming (man-caused or natural), wouldn't it be better to err on the side of caution and look at what we can do about it instead of greasing the skids?

Siskins At The Feeder

Day 118 (catch-up post): Although we really didn't need 18" of the white stuff to do the job, snow tends to bring Pine Siskins (Carduelis pinus) to my feeders in droves. Keeping priorities straight, my first job was to shovel a path so I could fill the boxes with fresh seed. While the snow was fresh, I took a standard corn broom to it (my neighbour had thoughtfully plowed my driveway), in my opinion, an easier method than shovelling when the fall is light and fluffy. As soon as I'd laid out the seed, the Siskins began appearing. Towhees and juncoes quickly picked up what they scattered, the Towhees descending out of sight into the deep "well" around the base of the pole.

As of the evening of the 8th, I still had no landline, but at least my cell service had come back to life. On my way to work, I saw repair crews at two locations and several spots where branches were still laying across the wires. On the morning of the 9th, a recording from the company claimed that normal service had been restored, but I still had no landline. I put in a repair ticket and have settled in for another wait.

Brains

 Day 117 (catch-up post): I have a brain...hat, that is. It required a lot more "i-cord" (French cord) than I'd expected to adequately cover the stocking cap. Each hemisphere took approximately 14 feet! A wig form is mandatory for arranging and pinning the convolutions unless you have a friend who is willing to serve as a pro-tem voodoo doll. The resultant hat is rather heavy, but fits snugly on the head without shifting. I'm ready for the March for Science on April 22, and also for the Nisqually Land Trust's annual "zombie" planting event!

Alternately working on a sock and the hat, I was of the mind that a vacation from the internet was just what I'd needed, although turning a blind eye to events, whether by design or accident, does not negate them as some seem to believe.

Snowed Under

Day 116 (catch-up post): As many of you know already, we got a wee bit of snow during the night of February 5-6. It continued coming down heavily throughout the day, and finally at approximately 3:30 PM, the predictable happened. The power went out. I threw the breakers as insurance against surges, and sat back to wait. I am always reluctant to start the fireplace because our crews usually manage to restore order within an hour or two, but around 7, cold toes convinced me it was time. I had not yet lit it this season, so what ensued was a 20-minute battle. The tank quite a ways away, and the line needed to be charged. At long last, the pilot stayed lit and I set the flame on low, just enough to take the edge off if I sat close by, "aborigine fire" since it appeared I might be in for a long siege. I closed off the rest of the house and curled up on the couch to sleep. About 3 AM, the lights came on, flickered, went off, came on, went off, came on and seemed to be going to stay on. Power lasted only long enough for me to flip the breakers and get back to sleep, and then it went out again.

When there's no juice, I am not only without heat. I am without water because I'm on a well. That adds another level of inconvenience to what should be only a minor aggravation. Recently when we've lost power, phone service has also been disrupted. It wasn't always that way. As recently as two years ago, I could call in on my land line to report a power outage. Not now. A quick check showed that phone service, both land and cell, were also dead.

During the morning of the 6th, there were several more "on/off" incidents. The longest the power remained on was about half an hour, not enough to bring the house up to a comfortable temperature. During those intervals, phone service remained down. I cooked dinner on my camp stove and settled into what I call "Mowich Mode," hearking back to my days of winter duty at 5000' on Mount Rainier's northwest corner. I put on all my climbing woolies and stayed close to my little "aborigine fire." I had put by several gallons of water for tea, and pulled out my backpacker's espresso maker to have handy when my stash of brewed coffee ran dry. Toward evening, I built a nest in front of the fireplace, stacking fleece blankets on the floor to pad my old bones, my expedition sleeping bag on top, promptly claimed by Skunk. I didn't get to use it. About 7:30, the power came on and stayed on, but even as I write this (4 PM on the 7th), there is no phone service. Other than being colder than I like, this has been a rather pleasant escape from the political situation.

Entitled To An Op-Onion

Day 115: Everyone is entitled to their own op-onion, and by gawd, here's mine. I've 'bout reached my limit on stress, and while I don't want to turn my back on what's going on in the political sphere for fear that it, like the proverbial alligator, will bite me on the behind, it's time for some Silly. Friends have often heard me voice one of my driving mottoes: "The world needs more silly." Like most mottoes, sometimes it's hard to maintain, but let's give it a try. There's nothing controversial about an onion, unless you want to debate Walla Walla Sweets over those watery things they grow in Georgia (bleccchhh!). Frankly, I prefer yellows for cooking and reds for salad. What's your op-onion?

Hedwig's New Hat

Day 114: After searching through all my pattern books, I determined that none of the cloche designs would work for the "brain" cap many of us are making for the March for Science, so I decided to invent my own. I took three measurements from my own head: circumference, distance across the top from ear tip to ear tip, distance across the top from forehead (roughly) to the base of the occipital lobe (the point where the "bump" on the back of the head rolls under to meet the spine). The two distances were almost identical..."close enough for government work"...so the cap needed no shaping other than a reduction to bring it closed at the top. I took the gauge from another piece of work I had handy, multiplied it out, adjusted the number to a multiple of eight, subtracted an inch from the diameter because I wanted the cap to fit snugly, calculated the number of rows it would take to make the depth. Then I determined where the decreases should begin and from that, found the number of rows I'd need to shape the top. Voila! I was ready to knit.

Here Hedwig ("Heddy" for short) models the finished cloche. This one will be the base for the "brain" hat, but with this cute design, it could easily be an "everyday" cap. And because I am a Utopianist who doesn't believe in money (my grandmother said it was the root of all evil), you won't need to visit a website or download this pattern because it's right here, free...one small step toward making the world a better place by sharing knowledge.

Crow's Cloche: you will need knitting worsted and #5 needles (circular and double-point). You can make the hat larger by moving up to #6 needles.

Cast on 104 sts and work 6 rounds in k2, p2 rib.
In stockinette st, work 17 rounds even (or less if desired)
Rows 18, 22, 26, 30, 34, 38: dec 8 sts evenly around (every fourth row)
Rows 40, 42, 44: dec 8 sts evenly around (every other row)
Rows 45-46: dec 8 sts evenly around (every row)
Rows 47-48: k 2 tog around
Draw thread through remaining sts and pull up.

For "brain," make sufficient i-cord (French cord) to cover cap in two hemispheres. At some point in the near future, I'll post a photo of a finished brain cap.

***Updating the pattern...22 rows is a little long before the first decrease (corrected above). Make your first decrease on row 18 and adjust the other row numbers accordingly.

Smile Ammo Can In The Woods

Day 113: I don't geocache much these days, but when this one came to my attention via a friend, I wrote down the coordinates on my "Next" list, and there they sat for a month or more. All last week, I kept trying to find a convenient time to make the two-hour drive to the site, but was hampered by weather, obligations and simple inertia. Yesterday morning, I learned that the woman who had created it had just passed away. That was enough to spur me into action. I left immediately after a visual review of Google maps, something I should have perused more carefully.

The first inaccuracy appeared when one road came to a T and changed name. No longer on the "right" road, I still hoped to find the cross-street which was to be the next turn. After twenty minutes of winding up, over, and around a number of hills, I was ready to give it up as a lost cause when I suddenly came to a turn which seemed to point directly toward the cache. Up another hill I went, and came to a dead-end among driveways. At that point, I realized I should have reviewed the description of the cache since it was obviously in a residential area. I checked my phone and called another cacher in the area. He comfirmed that I was in the right place, and only then did I realize that the cache must have been at her home. It was an awkward situation. I had driven two hours to get there, but I also didn't want to disturb the family. I went down the long driveway and scouted the territory from below. Fortunately, the cache was well away from the house, so I came up from behind it and I doubt anyone even knew I was there.

Cachers in western Washington (and visitors from elsewhere) will remember bearsandme's hides as funny and innovative, and often quite surprising. We will remember our caching friend as a valuable and welcoming member of our community. Her creativity and kindness will be greatly missed.

Knitting In French

Day 112: Knitting on a French loom is easy and fun, and is a quicker way to make "i-cords" than knitting with needles. For knitting larger pieces, I find that it is faster than the "throw" method, but slower than "picking," and since I'm a "picker," I don't often use a loom. Recently, there has been significant interest in creating "brain" caps (a cloche-style hat with i-cord sewn onto it to resemble the convolutions of a brain), not only from people who intend to march for science, but from those who just love zombies. You'll need a lot of i-cord for the project, so think about using a French dolly (right) instead of needles.

Many of the girls from my era made "i-cord" in grade school under the name of "spool knitting." I'm uncertain where the modern term originated, but since it's popular to affix "i-" to practically anything from the internet, I suspect it was started by someone who wanted people to believe they'd invented the art. Several brands and models of dolly are available at craft shops, but you can make your own the way we made them sixty years ago. Find a wooden sewing-thread spool and drive four or five brads into one end, evenly spaced and sticking up at least 1/2". Other than a hook or picker of some sort, that's all you need.

Run the end of your yarn down through the center of the spool from the top down. Make a counter-clockwise wrap around the first peg (brad), holding the tail of the yarn against the spool so there is tension on it. Continue making counter-clockwise wraps around each peg until you have two complete passes around the spool, keeping the second wrap above the first. Now take your picker or hook and insert it into the bottom wrap and pull it out toward you. Lift it up and over the upper wrap and drop it to the inside of the spool, leaving the upper loop (the second pass) on the brad. Repeat for the remaining pegs.

You should now have a single wrap on each peg. Make a second round of wraps as before, and then repeat the "picking" step. Each time you make a full circuit of the pegs, you will have added one row to your cord. Until the cord is long enough to stick out of the bottom of the spool, pull down on the yarn tail to draw it through the center. You'll quickly get the hang of it...wrap, pick, pull...wrap, pick, pull...and in no time at all, you'll have as much i-cord as you need.

The same process applies to larger French looms. The wooden one shown in this photo was meant for finer yarn, but I used worsted to show the principle. Again, many different styles are available: round, rectangular, adjustable or rigid. If you've tried to learn to knit unsuccessfully, you can achieve the same end result with a French loom.

The Acrobat

Day 111: Colaptes auratus cafer (Red-Shafted/Northern Flicker) knows how to strike a balance. This handsome "woodpecker" uses its tail in a manner Olympic gymnasts could rightfully envy. Not only does it employ it as a counterweight, but also for leverage. Here at one of my feeders, Flicker executes a yoga-style "upward dog" in order to peck at a suet cake, using the stiff tail to push against the base of the box. This action lessens the amount of grip needed by its talons, and the bird can dine at leisure. "For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction." Flicker beat Newton to the punch by centuries!