Usnea Apothecium

Day 169: An unidentified Usnea provided my second big thrill during the lichenology field trip. I simply adore lichens with "eyelashes" on their apothecia, and this was only the second one I've ever found. My previous discovery belonged to a different genus in which the fringed apothecia are common. In Usneas, it's something which is not too often seen around here. The largest "eye" (shown here) was roughly 5 mm in diameter. Two smaller ones were on a lateral branch of the same specimen. Upon closer examination, I believe two species of Usnea were present on this twig, although Usneas can be highly variable within a single species.

Chaenotheca Ferruginea, See It?

Day 168: Hands down, my most exciting find from today's field trip to Deschutes Falls Park with the Northwest Lichenologists was Chaenotheca ferruginea, one of the "pin lichens." Can you see it? There's just one, almost dead-center in the photo: a little black "pin" sticking out of a tiny patch of yellowish-grey thallus. The diameter of the stalk would be roughly that of a human hair. From base to the top of the rounded capitulum (head), the lichen is approximately 1 mm. in height. Yes, you read that right: 1 mm. Not 1 cm., one MILLIMETER. I think I'm going to be spending a lot more time with my nose pressed right against bark now that I know what to look for.

For the most part, the experts were very helpful and took time to explain basic features of lichens to less-experienced participants. Most of the attendees were students in the field and had some degree of expertise. I felt that I fell somewhere between rank novice and "advanced beginner" because although I recognized many of the species as also being in the Park environment, there were a lot of others with which I was not at all familiar (the Ramalinas, for example). I could hold my own talking about Cladonia bellidiflora or Pilophorus acicularis, but I was completely at sea with many other genera. And there is always one academic snob in every crowd. I had drifted away from one group to assist with the identification of a vascular plant and stopped to look at a specimen of Usnea someone else had picked up. When a nearby academic identified it, I asked, "How can you tell that's what it is?" I expected her to say something along the lines of, "It's sorediate" or "The fibrils are forked at the tips." Instead, she replied, "Because I'm a professional." Needless to say, I moved on.

Taking a field trip with experts can have two effects simultaneously. It can be very discouraging when you realize just how much knowledge you do NOT have, but on the other hand, it can be a strong motivator to learn more when the professionals are willing to share their expertise. Thanks to the educators in this group, I think I'll be able to weather the feeling of deflation and will become a better lichenologist through their encouragement.

In The Lichen Lab

Day 167: Maybe not the best picture in the world (it was shot as ISO 1600), but it commemorates a very productive and enjoyable day at the Northwest Scientific Association conference's lichen sessions. We spent half the day in the lab testing and identifying specimens, and I am happy to report that I have confirmed the presence of Mycoblastus affinis in the Park, as well as Pertusaria borealis. I learned to mix several reagents used to test for lichen substances, and was able to purchase small quantities for my own little kitchen laboratory. Tomorrow, we will be splitting into two groups for field trips, one to a wetland ecology and one to an evergreen habitat. I will be attending the latter. I also got to meet some of my lichen heroes today, notably Bruce McCune (the darker haired man in the rust-coloured shirt on the right) and Katherine Glew, with whom I've exchanged many emails over the last several years. I have to admit that I glowed with pride when I overheard Katherine compliment me to another participant. My Park colleague Sue also attended the seminar, and evil creature that I am, I had to acquaint her with another Pertusaria species. Maybe it was a little early for April Fool's; one of the diagnostic features of P. amara is its bitter, lingering taste. I scooped a fingernailful from a tree and surreptitiously discarded most of it before placing a tiny, tiny fragment on the tip of my tongue. I knew what to expect. Sue did not, and took a somewhat larger sample. Even so, we both spent the rest of the day puckered by Pertusaria, although I'm sure Sue regretted the experience more than I did.

My Favourite Rock

Day 166: With the lichen conference coming up tomorrow, I felt compelled to go talk to my favourite rock today. Halfway between the bridge and the Community Building at Longmire, this three-foot tall vertical face is absolutely "hairy" with Pilophorus acicularis. At most, the podetia are an inch and a half tall and smaller in diameter than the lead in a pencil. Young ones resemble tiny threads, each one tipped with a shiny black apothecium. As a lichen lover, the word which springs to mind to describe Pilophorus is "cute," and any time I'm walking that direction, you'll see me hunker down beside them to speak a few appreciative words. I mean, not too many people have a 500-pound Chia pet!

Hunting Season

Day 165: It's hunting season, and my weapons of choice are in my rig, ready to be put to use as soon as I spot the prey. A small shovel, a trowel, a pair of pruning shears and various sizes of plastic bags are tucked in the trunk of the car, and my eye is trained to spot trophy material even when I'm travelling at the speed limit. To that end, I laid siege to a flowering quince bush in a vacant lot this morning, and came home with ten cuttings, none of which had visible roots. I stuck five of them in flower pots which will be sunk in the garden for a year in the hopes of rooting them, and five were simply placed in a jar of water which will sit on a windowsill. Most plants which sucker as readily as flowering quince can be propagated either way. I'm still hoping to be able to get a slip with roots, but today wasn't the day.

Itchin' To Be Diggin'

Day 164: My patience with rain and cold is nearly exhausted. I'm itchin' to be diggin'! Or if not digging, at least pulling some of the weeds and scratching out the moss, preparatory to putting annuals in the ground. I must remind myself that it's still March, a good two months to go before a killing frost is unlikely. Even so, I've had it happen in mid-June, although not in the last decade or so. The garden stores down in Flatland are pushing out their displays, oblivious to the fact that some of us live in Zone 7, a narrow strip of cold country which runs along the spine of the Cascades and spills over where one particular Big Ice Cream Cone dominates the horizon. I wish my psychology permitted  me to channel some of the gardening urge into a bout of spring cleaning, but somehow getting down and dirty has a much greater appeal than mopping floors and polishing doorknobs. Nah, I'll just sit here with the seed catalog on my lap and dream.

Garden Colour

Day 163: One of these things is not like the others, much to my dismay, and it heralds the approach of lawn-mowing season, something I tend to forget about over the winter months. It always takes me by surprise. Some morning, I'll look out the window and the grass (that coarse, sharp-bladed species which as kids, we stretched between our thumbs to make a whistle) will have sprung up to half the height of the bird-feeder poles. I don't have "lawn." I have a few blades of thin green stuff sticking up through moss, hawkweed, and assorted other unpleasantness. The sharp stuff grows in clumps where the poor soil contains any small amount of organic matter. It is astonishingly resistant to treatment, even (gods forbid!) Round-up. Naturalist that I am, when lawn-mowing season begins, there are two alternatives which spring to mind: a flame-thrower, or perhaps two or three acre-inches of green asphalt. What idiot decided houses should be surrounded by lawn?

Perennial Favourite

Day 162: I love grape hyacinths. Although they do spread, they don't do so with the obnoxious vigour of English Wood Hyacinths (aka bluebells), and because they're short, their foliage doesn't overpower the other plants in the garden after the blooms have faded. That said, they can be difficult to remove from places where they're not wanted because even the tiniest pinpoint bulblet is capable of establishing a new colony within just a few years. When mine get too thick in any given spot, I shovel them out en masse, taking care to lift the soil with as little disturbance of the clump as possible. Invariably, the following year will see a few grasslike leaves emerging, a rebirth to which I choose to turn a deliberately blind eye until they need dividing again.

Monkeyshines

Day 161: I have had a busy morning. Thanks to an internet friend who sent me a pair of "Red Heel" socks, I now have a sock monkey of my very own. I even knit him a little hat just in case it started snowing again while he was posing for his portrait. I can see a few places where I want to improve on the traditional construction. The most major change would be in the length of the white portion of the arms. They seem too long to me, and that's even with shortening them a bit for this version. I would also cut down the toe which forms the dome of his head. It might be fine with a size Large sock, but with the Medium, there's too much crown. The hat conceals it, though.

Newest Member Of The Family

Day 160: Meet the newest member of the family: Hardy Kiwi "Issai." I had the pleasure of sampling these grape-sized, fuzzless fruits last autumn at a farmers' market on the Olympic Peninsula. The variety is self-fertile and is hardy to an astonishing thirty degrees below freezing! The grower assured me that once established, the vine is trouble-free and produces prolifically in just a few years. Since I seem to be having good success with fruits, I decided to give it a try. Kiwi is a vigorous vine, so I also purchased a wrought-iron trellis with a swinging gate. I'll have to do some reorganization of the current garden's layout in order to have the gate where I want it, but that's part of the fun of gardening.

Indian Plum, Oemleria Cerasiformis

Day 159: Less commonly known as "Osoberry," Indian Plum (Oemleria cerasiformis) is one of the first shrubs to flower in the Pacific Northwest. Typically, the leaves emerge as the inflorescence is developing, upright above a pendent cluster of greenish-white to white flowers. Male and female flowers are borne on different plants; the fruit resembles a small plum, pink in its early stages and maturing to a powdery blue-purple. The flesh of the fruit is quite sparing, though, little more than skin wrapped around a single pit. As a member of the cherry tribe, Oemleria's fruit, although considered edible, contains a small amount of cyanide which gives it a bitter taste until fully ripe. Best to leave this one for the birds!

Fruitless Loop

Day 158: Like a frootloop, I decided to go for a hike today even though I went to Morris dance practice last night and didn't get home until midnight. Now that I have a (damn) Discover pass, I no longer have to walk two and a half miles up the road to get into the Nicholson Horse Trails system. I can just drive up and park! Theoretically, this means I should be able to hike farther on trail, but today I inadvertently took a different trail than I'd intended and wound up having to loop back on a connector which rather diminished my enthusiasm for the project. It was a fruitless loop, one with no interesting lichens, no lovely wildflowers other than a few Oxalis which weren't open, and (good-news/bad-news) no invasives to report. Still, it was good to be out, and the trails were drier than they usually are at this time of year. Lowland hikes are not my favourites, but somebody has to be on the lookout for invasive species.

Heather

Day 157: "Tenacious" is a good word. The blooms on my purple heather are not this spring's crop; they've held on all winter, despite temps in the teens and being buried under more than a foot of snow for a couple of weeks. New buds are not yet in evidence on these plants, although they've popped out on the white-flowered variety and will soon be in full bloom. Planted a few years ago, these and the junipers are starting to spread nicely along the north side of my driveway.

When I first moved in, the landscaping consisted of one unidentified flowering tree and a few persistent primroses which managed to poke through the compacted ground. The flower beds beneath the windows were entirely overgrown with grass and, with the help of a friend, were dug out to a depth of 18" and the soil was carefully sifted for anything which might have been salvageable. We found delphiniums, peonies, grape hyacinths and a few daffodils, as well as unwanted English wood hyacinths which still occasionally pop up from time to time. Since then, I've added a number of trees to the yard, and have laid in new flower beds bordering the driveway and carport, as well as to the main areas under the windows. Now my yard is leafy and colourful, but I still have the Urge. Where can I plant something new this year? And what do I want to grow? The spring geas is upon me, and I must dig!

Hearts Arising

Day 156: When I moved into my home some thirty years ago, one of the first things I planted was a clump of nursery-grown Bleeding Hearts (Dicentra). I did so without giving any thought to the fragility of the stems, and put them in a location where they couldn't be safely maintained (i.e., I kept hitting them with the lawnmower). They lasted a couple of years and then refused to come back. Can't say I blamed them. A couple of years ago, I laid in a new flower bed off the north side of my carport, perfect habitat for this shade-loving species among maidenhair and other ferns. They've done very well and have just recently come through a naturally-occurring mulch of wisteria leaves. I do enjoy my garden, especially those portions of it which require little care.

Monkey Socks

Day 155: Not that I'd ever cut into a pair of hand-knit socks to make a sock monkey, but whenever I knit socks with differently-coloured cuffs, heels and toes, I am reminded of the old "Red Heel" brand work socks and the sock monkeys my grandmother used to make. She never made one for me, quite possibly because the only book I ever damaged as a child was one which depicted baby animals. I was fine with the rest of the book, but the last page was baby monkeys. I tore it out. My mother diligently repaired it with scotch tape and gave it back to me. I tore the page out again, ripped it in two and threw the pieces on the floor. Again, my mother taped the page back together and put it back in the book. She didn't even try to repair it after the third "accident" when I shredded the single page into tiny pieces and stuffed them down behind the mattress of my crib. She got the message: I didn't like monkeys. Nor do I like babies. Still, I have to admit that sock monkeys have a certain creepy charm about them, and although I've never made one, if I could get my hands on Red Heel socks and the pattern, I have a couple of friends who would be happy to adopt. But I am not going to knit monkey socks just to make a monkey of myself by cutting them up.

Quest For World Domination

Day 154: Yesterday's foray was all about Skunk Cabbage, but it was a short-term mission and I needed some way to fill the rest of the day. Since I'd decided to invest in a Discover Pass which allows me access to state parks, I thought I'd do a land survey of Ike Kinswa. My previous surveys of the area have all been done by kayak. That said, before I left the Swofford Pond area, I decided to check on a nasty infestation of Yellow Archangel at the boat launch. The land managers have been trying to eradicate it since I first alerted them to its presence a few years ago. Unfortunately, the stuff is amazingly hard to wipe out and spreads like wildfire unless it is hit hard and on a regular basis. Sure enough, the 3000-square foot patch is taking off again, bad news which gave me cause to file another report with the Invasive Plant Council.

At Ike Kinswa, I found some digitalis (foxglove) along the roadside. This wasn't unexpected, and it's much easier to control. The first shocker came when I got to the highway and saw Vinca minor which had been deliberately planted beneath the park's entrance sign. It had escaped from the landscaping and was moving into the forest. A grounds-maintenance person was on staff, so I mentioned it to her before continuing along the Mayfield Lake Trail. Oh, but what a nightmare I found there! However the plant may have crossed the highway (subsurface runners, seed, fragments caught in someone's boot or tires), the invasion force was hard at work. I mapped approximately 30,000 square feet of Vinca minor, so aggressive that it is even overwhelming the Himalayan blackberries.

The real mind-boggler is this: nurseries in Washington are still allowed to sell both of these virulent invasive groundcovers, and they do so, touting the plants' ability to "suppress weeds." Those words alone should be a warning to anyone with half a brain. Both of these plants are extremely difficult to remove once they become established, so if you have them in your yard and don't intend to live forever to maintain them in a confined space, get rid of them NOW!

Swamp-Stomping And Bog-Slogging

Day 153: Happy First Day of Skunk Cabbage! Here we see the world's only known specimen of Corvus minimus in its natural habitat. This rare and endangered creature is likely to emerge from winter dormancy in early to mid-March at which time it seeks out the Pacific Northwest's famous Yellow Skunk Cabbage (Lysichiton americanus). The importance of this springtime ritual is thought to be deeply rooted in Corvus' DNA, a genetic code which specialists believe is carried in the maternal line. The function of the ritual is not known, but invariably includes wallowing in mud and sacrificing blood to early mosquitoes. Today's sighting occurred near Swofford Pond in Lewis County WA, repeating the pattern of the last several years. One might conclude that the abundant and pungent fragrance of Skunk Cabbage from this particular area acts as an irresistible lure for the swamp-stomping, bog-slogging corvid.

And Kidneys To Top It Off

Day 152: I'm not sure where to start relating today's events, so I think I'll begin with the photo. Ever since finding Fringed Kidney lichen following a windstorm several years ago, I've haunted the same spot, hoping that another specimen would have dropped from the upper canopy. I've been disappointed until today when I found one very small grouping. The largest of the apothecia wouldn't cover my thumbnail and the foliose portions are rather browned from harsh weather, but this is Nephroma helveticum, and now I think I know which tree it occupies. No, I am not thinking about climbing it.

When I arrived home from work, I had a surprise in my mailbox. Joe and Sharon, my partners in Team Biota, are hoping to light a fire under me with respect to dragonfly identification. To that end, they sent me James Walker's "Common Dragonflies and Damselflies of the Pacific Coast - A Life Size Field Guide." I have collected a few images of these insects over the years, but have not been able to identify more than a few. This book will definitely improve my skills.

However, the biggest event of the day left me speechless and very near to tears. For some time, I have wished I could afford to attend the lichen portions of the Northwest Scientific Association's annual conference, but I simply couldn't budget it. Today as I sat at my office computer crunching volunteer applications and answering Park emails, I recognized Arnie's voice at the door. He came into the office and leaned against a cluttered bookcase. "I have a question for you," he said. Expecting it to be something botanical and wondering how he thought I'd be any help if he didn't know, I said, "Yeah? What?" Without preamble asked, "How interested are you in the Northwest Scientific Association's lichen conference?" I told him I'd love to go, but that it wasn't within my means. "What would you say if I said I'd send you to it?" he replied.

For a second, I was speechless. Then I said, "Surely there's somebody else who would benefit more from your budget than me!" He said, "You let me decide that." After some flabbergasted sputtering on my end, he continued, "Would you want to attend all four days or just pick a topic which interests you?" We dragged up the conference program and I determined that there was really only one day I thought would provide information I thought I could use in the Park. We discussed the options, but I was insistent. One day was sufficient. I completed the registration and he took care of the fine points (i.e., payment), and when he stood up from the desk, I couldn't help myself. I threw my arms around him in a bear hug, trying to keep the tears from running down my face. And then, after I finished my office work with as few corrections as I could manage through my excitement, I went out walking in the snow and found the Kidneys.

It's been a long time since I had a day like this one.

Spring Triptych

Day 151: And here was me, thinking the ungulates, raccoons and moles had polished off all my crocuses! Somewhere deep down, four bulblets seem to have survived the predation. Okay, one of them came up way over there, about six feet from anywhere I'd ever planted any. That's one I can definitely pin to mole activity. The other three are more or less in a cluster. The snowdrops I lifted (in two senses of the word) from an abandoned road in Pack Forest a few years ago are doing just fine. They're a long way from being a "drift," but they're multiplying at a pleasing rate. A lot of things have gone missing from my flower beds, devoured by elk or deer. They don't bother the daffodils, and perhaps it's the daffs' proximity to the hostas which has so far kept them safe, but the critters around here are so brazen that they'll walk right up under the windows to graze.

Hard Drive

Day 150: This post is dedicated to several of my friends (you know who you are) who are having various issues with their computers. If you'll recall, my never-worked-right HP desktop crapped out on me a couple of months ago and I reluctantly replaced it with a new laptop. After I'd taken any important files off it, I dismantled the old one, recycled the recyclable bits, mangled the non-recyclable electronics and trashed them. Then I went golfing. There's more than one meaning for the term "hard drive," and yes, that's a maul in my hands. Never thought I'd enjoy the sport, but man, that felt good!

Snow Queens

Day 149: And here's what inspired me to yesterday's hike: Snow Queens (Synthyris reniformis, aka Spring Queens). Snow Queens are one of the first flowers to emerge, and although they aren't particularly uncommon, I only know a couple of locations where they grow. They're easy to miss because their leaves are close to the ground and the flowering stems only stand a few inches high, plus they tend to prefer dappled light and appear beneath other taller plants (at least in Pack Forest). Each individual flower has two purple anthers, rather outsized for the white-lavender bell surrounding them. They look for all the world like two little purple eyes. The leaves are kidney-shaped ("reniformis" means "shaped like a kidney") and are lightly hairy. Who else do you know who'd hike 11 miles to take a picture of a three-inch tall flower?

No Parking

Day 148: You know what they say about "best laid plans." Well, I arrived at Pack Forest at 10 AM while the frost was still on the lichens, and was shocked to find that trailhead parking was full! I have never seen Pack's parking maxed out before, not even on a nice summer weekend. My first thought was profane and concluded with, "Well, now what am I gonna do?" My next thought was, "Damn, I don't want to be stepping on peoples' toes on the trail. Maybe now is the time to explore that side trail nobody ever takes off Bud Blancher." Yeah, I'd probably have to shoulder people out of the way for the first two miles, but then I should be able to find a little solitude. Not much of a Plan, but it was better than turning around and going home in a huff.

I had no idea where that side trail might emerge onto a recognizable route, but there isn't much of Pack I haven't explored. After I'd gone half a mile through forest, I came to a grassed-over spur road. I had a feeling I knew which one it was, and sure enough, in another half mile, I stepped out onto the familiar North 1000. I'd already managed to find some invasives and had marked them with the GPSr, intending to file a report when I got home, so I thought I'd continue on a little ways. I should know me better...a "little ways" meant taking the Wildlife Trail and the Reservoir Trail to emerge at Kirkland Pass and then...well, I was almost there already...another mile to where the Snow Queens grow. My hike (originally intended to be eight miles) manifested as eleven miles in the end result. Yes, I found more invasives, and yes, I found the Snow Queens. I was quite pleased with the way the day had turned out, especially since I only really saw PEOPLE while I was on the 1000 Road.

I got home, drew the coordinates from the GPSr in preparation for writing an invasive-plant report. I turned on the computer, and was surprised to find in my email a letter from the very people who would be receiving said report. To my great delight, the letter informed me that I had again been chosen to receive the Sarah Reichard Hike the Extra Mile Award for 2017! The award includes a $50 gift certificate from REI. Now I am really a happy camper!

The Steadfast Begonia

Day 147: I've had pretty good success with my last "Non-Stop" begonia tuber. I usually dry them out and tuck them away in a dark, indoor cupboard wrapped up in a paper towel in an attempt to hold them over until the following year. Sometimes I forget they're in there and don't have any other reason to open the door. Today, I needed to fill the flour bin, and I happened to notice that the paper towel had a bulge at the top. "Oh!" sez I. "The begonia has sprouted!" This will be the fourth year for this particular tuber. That's a personal record. I dutifully put it in soil and watered it well, and will keep tending it indoors until the first part of May. Then it'll move out to the front steps where its bright orange blossoms can greet me when I come home from town.

It was a good day for springtime tasks. I also installed the cleaned swallow houses, boiled water and poured it on the bird feeders to reduce the possibility of house-finch eye disease infecting other susceptible species like Evening Grosbeaks, and I purchased a pair of asparagus crowns to add to the garden as soon as the soil warms up. Trust the steadfast begonia: Spring is on the way!

Bread Day

Day 146: In polite terms, I might be called a "utilitarian" cook, i.e., I only cook because I have to eat, and dining out isn't an option. If it takes more than one pan and five minutes, I can't be bothered. Still, every rule has its exceptions, and the one deviation from norm in my world is that I like to bake, and particularly, I like to make bread.

I was in my late teens when I made my first loaves. They weren't exactly bricks, but I definitely didn't have the science down pat. I'd watched my foster sister's grandmother making bread, tried to remember the rules she'd laid down, like not forcing the dough to take more flour than it wanted, testing the rise with a pressed-down thumb, working the dough until it felt satiny under the fingers. Persistence pays off. In a few years as a young housewife, I was making bread on a weekly basis.

The tradition continues to this day. With the exception of the months I had one arm in a sling following a shoulder rebuild, I have made bread approximately every ten days for almost half a century. Bread Day is as much a part of my household routine as...well, I'd say "dusting and vacuuming," but I don't do those tasks nearly as regularly. I love the aroma of the rising dough (sourdough in this case), and of course nothing in the world beats the scent of bread fresh from the oven. Yes, it requires a certain degree of commitment and scheduling to set aside five hours for the process, but oh, the end result is worth it!

Who's Your Doctor?

Day 145: It's not often that I miss having television, certainly not often enough to justify the expense of a dish and a set capable of receiving a modern signal, but I would really like to be able to watch "Doctor Who" when it airs instead of having to catch up when the latest season is finally released on DVD. I've watched all the episodes which Netflix has to offer, right from the very first season with William Hartnell as the Doctor. My favourite Doctors are Peter Capaldi for the touch of madness he brings to the role, Tom Baker despite the fact that he reveals himself to be a rather egocentric person in his commentaries, and of course David Tennant. I would be hard put to rank them one-two-three. The low end of the scale is much more solid: I did not like Colin Baker. That said, I am a huge "Who" fan and I'm anxious to see the latest incarnation.

Bells, Sticks And Hankies

Day 144: I get one of two reactions when I tell people I'm a Morris dancer. Most commonly, it's "What's that?" but occasionally, I'm rewarded with an enthusiastic, "I love Morris dancing!" and as often as not, that's likely to be followed by, "I lived in England for a couple of years." It surprises me that Morris isn't better known in the US, although I hear that interest is on the upswing. Morris teams are referred to as "sides," and Seattle has several. The group I dance with (Sound & Fury) is a "mixed side," i.e., both men and women. We dance largely in the Adderbury tradition and perform throughout the year with most gigs being engaged during the summer months. Our weekly practices are something I really anticipate, even though I don't get home until almost midnight. Listen! Do you hear bells? The Morris dancers are coming!

Family

Day 143: Time for spring portraits again, so let me introduce my family to those of you who don't already know them. Skunk (top) is my old grandma-girl. She's 15 and not in the best of health. I've had her since she was a six-week old kitten. She's deaf, very arthritic, scrawny as a rail, and has a number of other geriatric issues which I try to accommodate as best I can. Her care is almost a 24/7 job, as I am sure my own physical needs will be when I reach or pass the equivalent of her years. That's something we all need to consider in our companions.

Tippy (bottom, full name Tipperary, aka Tip) was a shelter kitten, six months old when I brought him home. Also known as the Spaghetti Monster for his penchant for opening the cupboard and creating a pile of jackstraws in which to play, or as the Tickle Monster because he loves to be chased and tickled, he is 9 and bouncy-rowdy when he's awake. He keeps me young, my Boy, wanting me to keep the game going even when I'm ready to retire to my chair.

Perhaps it's the difference in their ages, for although they are both affectionate toward me, my two kids don't interact with each other beyond the occasional approach from Tip which is rebuffed by a snarl and hiss from Skunk. He respects her boundaries most of the time, and if things do get a little out of hand, I have only to say "Tip..." in a menacing voice and he backs off. I'm sure he doesn't understand why she doesn't want to play. When Skunk has possession of my lap, he will not try to shove her out. His tactics are more subtle. He sits on my footstool and transfixes me with that golden-eyed stare, as if to say, "Is it my turn yet?" By bedtime, they're usually both satisfied with the amount of lap-time they've received.

They're all the family I have, these two (well, other than a Little Tree and a big old Boulder in a faraway place). Family is important. I love mine.

Mood Knitting

Day 142: Let's put it this way: I'm already in a vile mood. I might as well get some more of that damn pink yarn out of the way. I am an Angry Bird, and there is a pending Crow-'splosion just waiting for an opportunity to afford itself. I'm sure I don't need to point to the major factor in my discontent (mild word, that), but there are a myriad of other smaller thorns festering in my side, most of which have some connection to the internet. The social media scene is not my cup of tea, and reading daily about things I am powerless to change is depressing in the extreme. That said, the internet is like an addictive drug. It pulls you back, no matter how hard you try to struggle out of its grip. I use the excuse "I have to do my blog post," and the next thing I know, I'm swearing at Facebook, not just for splashing my screen with the Fat Bastard's ugly face on every page, but for salting my feed with material in which I have no interest at all. My patience and tolerance are suffering even outside the world of my computer, and my temper is on a three-star short fuse. At the very least, I need a Facebook vacation, but somebody please alert me when the impeachment proceedings begin.

Baomyces Rufus

Day 141: First let me say that I'm reserving the right to be wrong about this one. I don't have the reagents required to perform certain chemical tests which would confirm the identification, but careful macroscopic analysis would seem to indicate that it is Baomyces rufus rather than Dibaeis baomyces. Additionally, Dibaeis is far less common in the Pacific Northwest than Baomyces, and generally occurs on soil in sunlight whereas this specimen is growing on a shaded boulder. I have observed this particular colony in all seasons now, and have witnessed the apothecia change colour over the months from a translucent pale pink upon initial eruption to a pinkish-brown later in the year. If I could observe the asci under the microscope (a process I haven't really mastered), I might be able to cinch the ID, but that requires remembering to stick a test tube in my pocket so I can take a sample. Maybe another hike is in order.

Lichenomphalia Umbellifera

Day 140: Day before yesterday, I was feeling so ancy that whenever I stuck something in the microwave (a cup of coffee, my dinner), I jogged in place until the cooking/heating was done. The idleness first forced upon me by flu/pneumonia in January has been compounded by icy roads and snow in my driveway for the last two weeks, so I resolved that at the first opportunity, I would get out on a trail and put some miles on my feet. My strength needs rebuilding, but I managed six miles in just over two hours, although on terrain with very little elevation change. My goal was a rock beside a gate, on which a nice colony of (presumably) the lichen Dibaeis baomyces grows; however, it was not as lush as I'd hoped. I was despairing of finding a "blog shot" until on the return and in different light, I found a log lush with Lichenomphalia umbellifera. This is one of the few lichens which has a basidiomycete as the mycobiont, and although rare elsewhere, is fairly common in its PNW/arctic range. The squamules which appear on the log in this image belong to the skinny Cladonia spires. The thallus of Lichenomphalia is the darker green, finely granular crust on the surface of the wood.

Rob's Wellington Cap

Day 139: Thanks to a friend with a 3D printer, I was able to fill a request from Rob (a friend in New Zealand) to "make me one of them flash beenies in Wellington colours, please." Seamus printed up 32 intarsia bobbins in assorted colours using an internet image for the basis of his design. They work perfectly! I prefer using bobbins to making yarn "butterflies" because when you're working more than a couple of changes, the strands tangle. Bobbins hold the yarn securely through the untangling process, but butterflies tend to fall apart and frequently need rewinding. Horizontal stripes don't require bobbins or butterflies, but unless the yarn is carried on the back of the work, vertical sections are best worked in intarsia. I experimented with both techniques as well as several ways of effecting decreases before I was satisfied with the pattern for Rob's Wellington cap. Originally, I'd planned the hat to be a Christmas present, but Christmas falls in mid-summer in New Zealand, so I mailed it off to him this week.