Fractal Fantasy

Day 48: Yeah, I know...it's the time of the year when everybody posts pictures of ice, but ol' Jack did such a lovely job of decorating my bin last night that I can't resist. You could get lost exploring the fractal coastline described by his crystalline map of fjords, inlets and bays, but only for a few minutes until you became aware that his nippers were getting dangerously close to portions of your anatomy you'd prefer to keep intact. Western Washington is experiencing a cold snap of unusual depth for late November. Here, the last several nights have held just barely above 20 F., and the afternoons haven't crept above 40. Twenty years ago, I'd have thought nothing of going for a snowshoe/hike or casting a line to the prospect of a dinner of fresh salmon, but these days, those temperatures even curtail my appreciation of frosty art.

A Twist On Honey-Lamb

Day 47: After assessing the cinnamon fleece I bought last weekend at the Ashford bazaar, I decided I'd put a twist on "honey-lamb" (as I'd taken to calling it as I was spinning it), extending the amount of yarn it would yield by plying it with soft, sillky Corriedale. The result is one of the prettiest yarns I've ever spun, warm brown and creamy white wrapped around each other like the stripes on a candy cane. There will definitely be enough for a sweater when I'm done, perhaps a matching hat and mittens, or even a scarf. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a "fiber fascist." With the exception of rayon (which, if it comes right down to it, is actually cellulose), I want nothing to do with manufactured materials. Give me cotton, silk, linen and wool in natural colours, and pitch that nasty polyester in the bin!

Schizophyllum Commune, Split-Gill Fungus

Day 46: I raised my leg to step over the log, looked down to be sure I wasn't going to scrape off any lichens or moss, and there it was. "Schizophyllum commune!" I said, rather loudly for being in a quiet forest. "Well, that just made my day!" I'd already scored with an Usnea I thought was new to my Life List (see my post from the 26th), and hadn't expected to find anything else exciting along the "bunny trail" I'd decided to follow. Nisqually State Park is proving quite productive as far as botany, lichenology and mycology go. I have yet to find a new slime mold there, but we'll have to see what next year brings.

As for Schizophyllum, look closely at the top image and you'll see how it got its common name of Split-Gill Fungus. It releases its spores from splits which develop along the length of each gill when fully mature. When Schiz first starts to grow, you might pass it over as "just another bracket fungus." The young fans demonstrate zonal colouration in shades of brown. I had never observed the species in as many stages of development as this one log provided. Young brackets, looking ever so much like Turkey-tail (in honour of Thanksgiving, of course) wouldn't have given me reason to look more closely. What inspired me to explore the log more intimately was the bracket in the lower right image which is just beginning to grow its "fur" from its point of attachment. Who knew? I have not encountered a species description anywhere which covers the early growth phases in any depth. So, I give you for Thanksgiving that for which I am most grateful in my life: the joy and thrill of discovery.

Toe-Tau-Too-Ee

Day 45: However you pronounce their name, Spotted Towhees have to be one of the goofiest-looking birds in anybody's back yard. I grew up calling them "TOO-ees" (thanks to the same mother who instilled in me my pronunciation of "LITCH-en" to rhyme with "KITCH-en"); but you may call them "TAU-ees" or "TOE-ees" if you wish, and the dictionary will defend you. "TOO-ee" rhymes with "screwy," and that's what I call them: screwy towhees, doing their little hockleback scratch-kick to raise seeds from the tangled grass, their red eyes giving them a distinctive mad-as-a-March-hare look. I mean, it's serioius business being a bird, having to hunt down your food before some other opportunist grabs it, having to defend your nest against all sorts of predators, having to seek shelter against weather extremes, but Towhees just somehow seem...well, "silly" is the word which comes to mind. You won't catch me making fun of Chickadees, Jays, Sparrows, Goldfinches or any other of the birds who rely on my feeders for sustenance, but Towhees...Towhees make me laugh.

Usnea Pacificana

Day 44: For the second time this month, I've used UV to identify a lichen species. Y'see, I'd gone to the library and since I was out and feeling rather desperate for post material, I decided to go for a short, chilly walk in Nisqually State Park, hoping to get home before it started snowing. I took a different turn than usual, and after about half a mile, I found a "bunny trail" heading off toward the Mashell. Well, why not? A few hundred yards in, a very stringy, pendulous Usnea caught my eye. Having not had a Cunning Plan when I set out, I was poorly equipped, i.e., my aide mémoire for Usneas was still on the shelf at home. I examined the specimen for identifying features (cigar-shaped branches, isidia/soredia, red spots, annular rings), making note of each mentally. As I started to walk away, I saw a detached piece on the ground. Into my pocket it went! And I'm glad I brought it home, because without seeing its response to UV, I couldn't have nailed it down. That said, this is perhaps the sixth species of Usnea I've identified in Nisqually State Park. And you were wondering why I spend so much of my free time hiking there?

Two Kinds Are Better Than One

Day 43: Two years ago, I was lamenting the perpetual lack of Chickadees of any sort in my yard. Oh, I saw them in the brush line just across the road, but they never came to my feeders. Then in January 2018, I spotted one in the contorted filbert, and it was soon followed by another. I kept my fingers crossed that they were a breeding pair, but with Chickadees, you can't tell. A third showed up somewhat later in the year. All three belonged to the same species: Black-Capped (Poecile atricapillus). They hung around throughout the year, apparently having deemed the habitat suitable for their needs. About two weeks ago, I was standing in my living room looking out the window and a 'dee-dee landed on the shepherd's hook closest to the glass. I did a classic double-take. "That's a chessie!" I said, and just that fast, Poecile rufescens (Chestnut-Backed) took off. Now it seems that consistent availability of choice food (black-oil sunflower seed) has made headlines in the Chickadee Times. I am suddenly besieged by 'dees! At times yesterday, there must have been at least a dozen darting between the feeders and the shrubbery. One chessie allowed me to get within inches of him when I filled the feeders. Species were split more or less equally, and although obviously I can't identify individual birds, I am simply overjoyed to have my very own flock of happy little 'dee-dees "dee-dee-dee-ing" when I step out onto the porch.

Sheepy Bizness

Day 42: As the vendor said to me when I protested that I really didn't need any more wool (but why else had I gone to the bazaar?), "The one who dies with the most wool wins, right?" Thus it was that two pounds of the cinnamon-coloured locks in the lower right foreground followed me home.

Spinning is my current alternate to quilting. When I need a break, I kick the quilt frame aside and take my Louet wheel from its position beside the fireplace to set in front of the same chair. Currently, I'm working with white Corriedale roving, but there's nothing like new fleece to hurry a project along. One of these days, I'll actually knit up some of the plied wools occupying a significant space in the cedar chest, or perhaps I'll weave them. And therein lies the rub: I can't decide how best to utilize handspun yarns.

Ranking 'round the clock, starting with the finished yarn in the upper left, the wools shown here are black lamb's-wool from the first lamb born in my care, a surprisingly light tan wool from my "black" ram, silver Gotland roving (delicious to spin), "in the grease" cinnamon lamb's-wool (the new acquisition), light grey washed fleece from a friend, and of course the white Corriedale on the spindle and in roving. Do you think I'm going to run out of things to do any time soon?

Unbecoming Nomenclature

Day 41: I have to admit that the first time I heard Icmadophila ericetorum referred to as "Fairy Barf," I thought my leg was being pulled, or rather I should say that I thought the person who said it was applying their own personal "pet name" to the species. Lichen common names are not standardized like those of most vascular plants, so it's a bit of a free-for-all out there. Surely no one would call a lichen "Fairy Barf!" Little did I know at the time of lichen taxonomists' predilection for determining acceptable nomenclature while (apparently) stinking drunk, or I would have understood. Needless to say, I have since encountered the term in numerous references. Although I don't like it (I dislike common names anyway), it does seem to be peculiarly descriptive of the species' pale pink apothecia. The light green crust beneath them is the lichen's thallus (body), and its hue fails to supply a better suggestion. In any event, although I can't speak to a timetable for when the fairies deposit it, you're likely to find it on decaying stumps of cedar.

Lecanora Pacifica, Multicolored Rim Lichen

Day 40: If you are in the slightest way trypophobic, I apologize for today's post. My mother was one of those people who got the heebie-jeebies if she saw pinholes in paper or little bumps on the surface of something, so I'm sure she would have run screaming from Lecanora pacifica, one of the most common Lecanoras to be found in the Pacific Northwest. Perhaps fortunately for her, the disks of this species are quite small, i.e., 0.7-1.2 mm, demonstrated here with my handy-dandy measurin' stick for reference. Multicolored Rim Lichen prefers smooth deciduous bark as its substrate, notably that of Red Alder and some willows. In my area, it's most commonly seen on alder. The centers of the disks give it its common name; in any given patch, they may range from yellowish through black. Each apothecial disk is emphasized by a prominent rim of light grey-green. I think they're quite attractive, but obviously, I did not inherit the gene for trypophobia.

A Day At The Museum

Day 39: Everybody loves a field trip, and yesterday seven members of the Park's Interpretive staff took the day to visit the newly-reopened Burke Museum at the University of Washington. It gave us the opportunity to witness interpretation from the other side of the fence, as it were, and I think we each found some valuable take-aways from the experience. I particularly enjoyed the chance to see curation in real time, i.e., being able to view through floor-to-ceiling glass people at work cleaning and preparing specimens for archiving. I felt that it brought science closer to the visitor, helping them make a personal connection. As for the exhibits, I started on the top floor with paleontology and worked my way down through biology and contemporary culture, and it was in the last area where I spent the most time, intent on the textiles and basketry. I would have liked more detail about each specific item, since most were labelled with a minimum of information. The minimalist style of interpretation seems to be prevalent elsewhere these days as well, not just at the Burke. As far as I know, no detailed guides were available.

That said, the highlight of the day for me was to be able to meet David Giblin, Collections Manager for the Burke's Herbarium. We've corresponded by email for many years, but had never met face-to-face. I had intended to take an hour to walk across campus, visit for a few minutes and then walk back to join the rest of our group, but when I arrived at the facility, David greeted me with a huge hug and brought me in for a full tour. I spent the next hour and a half or so nosing into specimen boxes containing vascular plants, lichens and macrofungi, and talking shop with David. As a parting gift and thank-you for the photos I've contributed to the Herbarium's gallery over the years, David presented me with a copy of the newest edition (2018) of Hitchcock's "Flora of the Pacific Northwest." It was Christmas come early for this naturalist!

Cinnamon Swirl Bread

Day 38: As the phrase says, "...and now for something a little different." I've been cutting it pretty close to the wire insofar as making bread right before I run out lately, due to the fact that I'm so intensely involved in quilting that everything else has to take a back seat. I never seem to remember to start the sourdough sponge the night before, not until I get up in the morning and chide myself with, "Damn. I forgot to put the sourdough down again." I decided I'd revert to another of my old stand-bys, one which makes two loaves. It's called Cinnamon Swirl bread, and the recipe appears in the classic Better Homes and Gardens cookbook...you know the one. It has a red gingham/buffalo check cover, and no kitchen should be without a copy. I made my first loaves of plain white bread from the instructions in its pages, lo, some fifty years ago. I'm still using the same cookbook, despite its pages being stained and torn and sometimes falling out of the ring binder, despite the fact that I have a newer edition (hardbound and difficult to keep open to the proper page). So, sandwiched between two power outages, the cinnamon swirl bread came to fruition, stock for the next two weeks.

Cladonia Parasitica

Day 37: Arguably the weirdest Cladonia I've ever met, the identity of this species eluded me until recently when I stumbled across the description while looking for something else. Known principally from specimens found on the east coast and commonly known as "Fence-rail Cladonia," Cladonia parasitica occupies a single post on the rail fence surrounding my yard, tucked in behind the yew hedge where it would have gone unnoticed but for the fact that I regularly check my fence line for interesting subject matter. The species is similar to two others, both of which tend to exhibit red apothecia more frequently and which respond differently to chemical testing. It is characterized by the granular appearance of its abundant, tiny squamules and plump podetia. How it came to live on my fence is a mystery. Did it arrive as a spore, perhaps dislodged from an Eastern tourist's car, or a squamule carried in on nursery stock or mud? One thing is certain: it couldn't have found a home where it would be appreciated more.

Adding To An Heirloom

Day 36: The work on Mousie's grandmother's quilt is progressing much more rapidly than I had expected. All the "streets" dividing the blocks are done (shadow-quilting and twisted-ribbon "DNA"), the inside edge of the blue borders is stitched all the way around, and I've finished my first plate block. Now I'm taking a break from pushing the needle through multiple layers of fabric to work on the "character panels" (crow, mouse, goldfinch and hummingbird) on the side borders where there are only two layers of cloth sandwiching the batting. I elected to finish this plate first because it was the most problematic. There were issues with buckling in the blades, but I was able to overcome them without having to undo any of grandma's stitching (my priority is to preserve her work in its entirety), and other irregularities were accommodated to my satisfaction (if perhaps not to perfection). As Mousie herself has said, the irregularities make the quilt feel more "human." And now it's time for me to get back to work, doing my part in adding to an heirloom.

Flowering Birds

Day 35: My collection of Christmas cacti is largely populated by the more unusual colours: yellow, white, picotee. I have some red/magenta ones as well, but they bloom later and by then, my eye has become somewhat jaded to their beauty and elegance. It is the flocks of early-flowering hybrids I love best, flying in their birdlike forms and feathery petals to my mantel, there to roost until their season is done.

Many long years ago, my husband (not particularly horticulturally adept) succeeded in cross-pollinating two differently coloured plants. We were both surprised when one of the two developed small reddish fruits, heaxagonal in cross-section and about half an inch long. We expected them to drop, but were again surprised when they held on, matured and dried. Bruce split the pods (it was his experiment, after all) and planted the tiny black seeds with care. Perhaps conditions weren't right, or perhaps the seed was sterile; in any event, after months of waiting and hoping, it became apparent to us that nothing further was going to occur.

As I set the Birds out on dark velvet for their portraits, a shower of pollen dusted the fabric's nap. Thinking of Bruce, I'm going to go get a paintbrush.

Pleurocybella Porrigens, Angel Wings

Day 34: Pleurocybella porrigens (Angel Wing Fungus) was once considered to be non-poisonous. However, in 2004, it was linked to the poisoning of 59 persons in Japan, nine of whom died as a result of consuming it. It is believed that the toxin involved may be an unstable amino acid which, after a period of two weeks produced symptoms including weakness and tremors followed a week later by evidence of brain lesions, seizures and high fever. It is unknown whether exceptionally abundant amounts of the toxin were produced in response to certain climatological factors in the area at the time, or if Pleurocybella occasionally produces more simply as a matter of course. Angel Wings have a close look-alike in the edible Pleurotus ostreatus (Oyster mushroom). Oysters tend to be more creamy in colour and exhibit a short stipe (stem). Once again, I would remind my readers that there's a reason our local mycological society called their annual membership dinner the "Survivors' Banquet." I fear I've probably eaten more Pleurocybella than was good for me because my mother collected them believing them to be Oysters.

Parmelia Sulcata

Day 33: Collectively known as "wax-paper lichens," the Parmelias are characterized by a surface which resembles that of crinkled wax paper. To differentiate certain of them in the field (some require chemical testing), it may be necessary to observe the rhizines (root-like structures) on the backs of the lobes, and one should observe the ridges and cracks closely (preferably with a hand lens) for the development of soredia (asexual reproductive structures). Although I was fairly certain that both of the specimens I was examining were Parmelia sulcata despite the fact that one was distinctly long in the soredia department, I took a small sample of each one (of a size smaller than the pink of my little fingernail), dropped them in one of the test tubes I always carry in my bag, and checked them under the microscope when I got home. Yup, both sulcata. And for those of you who might be interested, the term "sulcata" means "furrowed." Knowing that will make remembering the characteristics of this lichen a bit easier.

Parmotrema Eyelashes

Day 32: Wishing I had brought a hand lens, I was bent over with my nose to a wooden hand rail at Billy Frank National Wildlife Refuge analyzing what I thought might be two different species of Parmelia growing side-by-side when the broader, flatter lobes of a third lichen caught at the corner of my eye. A closer look revealed black "eyelashes" (cilia) along the margins. Eyelashes! I'd found my first Parmotrema (never mind that I've walked past it dozens of times over the last several years). I carefully lifted a small piece and laid it on the back of a maple leaf to provide contrast for the inset photo. When I got home, I discovered to my dismay that I was not going to be able to obtain an identification from my sample without a UV light. Parmotrema chinense does not fluoresce, but P. arnoldii does. Otherwise, the two are morphologically identical righ down to the broad tan margin on the back of the lobes, and the two species' ranges overlap in coastal/maritime riparian forest.

Scientific method precludes the tossing of a coin, so I resigned myself to filing it under "Parmotrema sp." In fact, I had begun writing this post before I remembered that my best hand lens (the one I never take into the field) is in fact equipped with a UV light. I pulled my sample out of the wastepaper bin on my desk. Hurrah! It fluoresces like a a hippie's interior decorating. I present to you herewith a confirmation of ID: Parmotrema arnoldii.

Right-Of-Way Dispute

Day 31: When a bird standing with its feet on the ground can meet you eye to eye, it would be extremely unwise to dispute trail right-of-way. I had dropped off the kitty quilt at the Nisqually Land Trust's offce before going over to Billy Frank National Wildlife Refuge to complete my "Junior Refuge Manager" tasks (something I'd begun on the day Crow's Travellin' Science Show presented on the subject of lichens). One of the tasks set in the Junior Refuge Manager booklet was to find a Great Blue Heron. On a normal day, you could easily find three or four out on the tide flat, but the boardwalk was closed for repair. Even so, there should have been one in the grassland or in one of the ponds. I had almost given up hope after talking to another photographer who had been there looking for them for some time, but as I started back toward the riparian area to complete another section of the booklet, I was brought up short by Heron standing motionless in the trail intersection. I edged around sideways to get a better angle, but Heron was not the least bit concerned. There was no doubt in his mind about who'd win a contest for space.

Buddies

Day 30: I can't honestly claim that there is something always in bloom at my house, either indoors or out, but there are fairly few dull moments. The Christmas cacti are starting to flare (the yellow and white ones, at least) and the two new Adeniums arrived in bud and seem determined to bloom despite having been transplanted to larger pots. I've made a mash-up of "buddies" here, Christmas cacti in the foreground and Adeniums at the top of the photo, but in full bloom elsewhere in the house are Hoya bella and Adenium Joyful. Plum Beauty is what you would expect from a plat so-named: its blossom will be a rich plum purple. Star Cluster is yellow with broad red stripes central on each petal. I find myself wishing for more shelf space, but that's a dangerous path to walk for a crazy plant lady.

Kitty Quilt

Day 29: The Kitty Quilt is done! It was stitched entirely on the machine, a process which has left me older and wiser. Never again will I try to wrestle the bulk of half a double-bed sized quilt through the arch of my small standard sewing machine, driving pins through my fingers and into the undersides of my forearms in the process. I am not entirely happy with the result which, owing to the struggle involved, created uneven and wobbly stitching, less than perfect "meets" where the window frames come together. Still, the combination of coloured background and white frames is not possible if using the traditional piecing method for Cathedral Window, and it was that look which appealed to me and why I made the attempt. That said, it turned out fairly well for not having the proper equipment to assemble it. I have enough kitty prints to make another quilt (perhaps in a different style), so now I am debating: keep it, or donate it to the Nisqually Land Trust's fund-raiser auction?

Streets, Shamrocks, DNA

Day 28: If Mousie is amazed, so am I in how rapidly her quilt is progressing. That's not to say I'll have it done in anything under a year, but I have completed the hand-stitching of 15 of the 24 "streets" which includes shadow-quilting and a twisted-ribbon design running the length of each one (a pattern I refer to as "DNA" because it's a half-double helix). I've also filled in the nine shamrocks at the intersections and some additional work near the broad borders. I am not devoting myself exclusively to this project, no. In fact, today I've been hard at work on machine-finishing the cathedral window kitty quilt, and in the evening when I feel my back needs a break, I'm hand-stitching orange-themed Dresden Plates to dark brown broadcloth (I'm going to hate myself when it comes time to quilt that). But...and here's the important part of today's post...if schedules can be tweaked to coincide, my two sisters-of-the-heart are planning to come out to the Pacific Northwest for a quilting bee some time in the coming months. This quilt is going to have quite the historic lineage!

Ridiculously Lichenicolous Stick

Day 27: This is a Ridiculously Lichenicolous Stick. RLS's are not uncommon in the Pacific Northwest and come in a variety of types depending on their individual ecologic niches. My area (that in the vicinity of Mount Rainier National Park and Eatonville) is notable for its extensive Usnea population. Although I only took one specimen from the RLS which I identified as Usnea scabrata, there may have been different Usneas interspersed with it. In fact, I probably could have spent an hour or more studying the RLS had I had my aide mémoire and a hand lens in my pack. Unfortunately, I did not. That said, what was notable about the RLS was not its abundant Usneas or the nearly-hidden Parmelias hugging more tightly to its bark, but the fact that it (the RLS) was pointing its four-foot length to my planned route as if giving a nod of approval to the hike. Things like advice from an RLS signify to those of us who spend large portions of our time in the woods.

Nisqually-Ohop Confluence

Day 26: Although this spot sees more activity during a salmon run (and much of it illegal, unless you're a tribal member), for the most part, the point at which little Ohop Creek drifts lazily into the big water of the Nisqually River will be unoccupied by anything more than an occasional eagle or osprey, a handful of chickadees and kinglets, and one lone Crow. The broad, emphatic speech of the Nisqually subsumes the quiet patter of Ohop; its commentary on obstructive rocks and feathering grasses hushes Ohop's tales of upstream wildlife. One must listen carefully for Ohop's voice, but it is there to be caught by a perceptive ear. Up-river, the Nisqually was divided in its opinions, two halves furiously raging on either side of an island issue until they could meet in a common channel to continue their way here. Beyond, a mile or more away, the Nisqually gets cranky once again but soon resolves its internal debate and then moves confidently and serenely toward the towns of McKenna and Yelm where it finds itself dammed despite its best intentions to reach Puget Sound unobstructed.

Cladonia Squamosa

Day 25: Squamous...that was what caught my eye: the sheer squamosity (and yes, that's a legitimate word) of this particular Cladonia. Oh, you're thinking I should define that in layman's terms. How about "scaly?" The squamules are the little leafy green bits and in Cladonias, and are usually found at the base with one or two notable exceptions. In those exceptions, they aren't distributed in a manner which allows the patchiness of cortex (skin) over medulla (inner portion) to be easily observed. Examination under a 40x hand lens revealed a few teeny-tiny brown apothecia (fruiting bodies) at the tips. Cladonia squamosa prefers the moist forests of the mid- and lowland areas of the Pacific Northwest and elsewhere in North America where it is widespread. Like most Cladonias, it exhibits a fondness for rotten logs, but within the genus, it is more sensitive to pollutants than some of its kin. It seemed to be enjoying the air circulation on a plateau 20 feet above Ohop Creek near its confluence with the Nisqually River.

Hypogymnia Enteromorpha, Budding Tube Lichen

Day 24: I've spoken in the past about "micro-ecologies," those little pockets where very specific conditions allow a species to survive, e.g., a sheltered bend on a streambank where sunlight falls only a few hours a day and snow fails to accumulate to any significant depth in winter, where soil pH and minerals meet tight criteria, and humidity is neither too high nor too low. Some plants are like Goldilocks: if it isn't "just right," it won't do. On a somewhat larger scale, an elevational change of a mere 500 feet can open a habitational window, limiting the range of some species while opening it up for different ones. Sometimes these species can be quite similar in appearance to their counterparts at higher or lower elevations, so it's always best to check and note important field characteristics for later identification. My hike to the Nisqually River yesterday yielded up two lichens I don't recall having seen previously. This one (Hypogymnia enteromorpha, or Budding Tube Lichen) caught my eye because it was more densely packed than those I find closer to home. Under scrutiny, I found its lobes demonstrated a tendency to bud along the margins rather than being exclusively dichotomously branched. Mentally noting small openings at the ends of the lobes and a black medullary ceiling led me to its identity, and I was able to leave it in the field, happy as Larry in its preferred environment.

All Der Leaves

Day 23: All der leaves have fallen...cottonwood, maple, willow, cascara, an errant oak, and yes, alder leaves, all have fallen and lie on the old road/trail to the Nisqually-Ohop Creek confluence in a blanket of mottled brown. Unlike a normal Pacific Northwest autumn when they'd be wet, slick, gooey and a serious hazard to your health on several different levels, this year they are dry and crunchy and make a wonderfully satisfying sound as you shuffle through them. I needed to get out today without too much physical challenge, so I chose this easy trail in Nisqually State Park which runs something between a mile and a half to two miles from parking before it dead-ends at the water. The elevation loss is minimal, maybe a couple hundred feet, and on such a gentle slope that you don't really notice until you start climbing back up. There's not a lot to see along the way other than Usnea-covered branches and in season the occasional mushroom, but it's a pretty walk and can be taken as leisurely or as vigorously as one might wish. I loafed my way down today, ambled back in no particular rush, stopping to look at lichens, enjoying the sound of the river, searching for a woodpecker drumming on a tree somewhere out of sight, and surprising a coyote who went bounding off into the forest in a crackle and crunch of leaves, affronted by a human in his personal domain.

Aptly Named "Joyful"

Day 22: Adenium obesum "Joyful" is living up to its name. It is an intermittent bloomer (i.e., it blooms when it feels like it, as opposed to being on a seasonal schedule) and in the year I've owned it, it has put on three abundant flushes of trumpet-shaped flowers fully two inches in diameter or more. The flowers are borne atop sturdy stems which arise from a thickened trunk known as a caudex. Many of the Adenium hybrids available commercially will have been grafted onto a well-formed, mature caudex to increase market appeal. Native to sub-Saharan Africa, Adeniums like it hot and dry. Overwatering will cause root rot. While they are undemanding with respect to watering, they should be monitored frequently for evidence of pests, in particular red-spider and scale. "Joyful" has proven so rewarding for me that I will undoubtedly be adding more Adeniums to my collection in the future.

Long-Term Commitment

Day 21: The hard work is done: the designing, the transferring of designs, the repairs, the piecing, the pressing, the cutting-to-size, the backing and batting, the stretching and mounting, the pinning, readjusting the pinning, more pinning, pinning and re-pinning. Now all that remains besides adding a finishing binding is the actual quilting of Mousie's grandma's Dresden plates. Before the sun rose this morning, I had already shadow-quilted one of the blue "streets" separating the plates. When stretched on the frame with the bottom edge of the "street" less than a quarter inch from the stretcher clips, the intersection lies almost at extreme reach of my arms. I use the "stab" method of quilting rather than a running stitch which means that my left hand always drives the needle up from beneath the fabrics and my right hand stays on top to push the needle down through them. Years of practice have taught my fingers the proper angles to maintain relatively even stitches throughout.

The variation in any quilter's handiwork identifies them, and interestingly enough, I've made some discoveries through my knowledge of what a friend dubs "forensic quilting." Mousie's grandma's Dresden plates seem to have been applied either by two different stitchers or at two different times in its history. Some plates are attached with a less-than-expert whip-stitch. Others were applied with a true applique stitch. Likewise, the fabrics themselves belong to two different eras. For the most part, they are flour/feed sack prints, but the centers and a few of the blades are a more modern calico, distinctly different in weave and dye process than the utilitarian cottons from the sacks. But then the question arises: if a second quilter added the centers at a later date and applied some (but not all) of the plates to their muslin backing, how is it that some of the blades in the plates are made of the same fabric as the centers? Were those blades replacements for some which were damaged or too badly faded? That seems to be the only answer which fits all the evidence. Maybe I'll come up with another idea as I spend the next year or two adding my own stitches to Mousie's heirloom.

Huernia Zebrina, Star Performer

Day 20: Huernia zebrina is one of the star performers in my troupe of houseplants. Also known as "Lifesaver Plant" for the raised reddish-brown disk at the center of its stripy, five-pointed flowers, even its buds (inset) are attractive. Each star measures roughly an inch across and are fairly long-lived after opening. The succulent stems bear short, soft spines and branch readily, occasionally dropping from the parent plant. These "volunteers" root easily if the base is stuck into the soil and kept moist but not wet. The plant blooms intermittently, and took me by surprise today when I made my weekly watering rounds.

Mystery Fungus

Day 19: You have undoubtedly begun reading this expecting that at some point in the narrative, I'll tell you what this is, maybe even give you a natural history lesson to accompany it. If so, you can just keep walking because it not only has me puzzled, it has our Park plant ecologist Beth Fallon baffled as well. I suggested that it may be in the genus Phycomyces, a group of mold fungi which grow on a variety of substrates, most commonly on animal scat but also on other fungi. Looking at it under the microscope reveals that the filaments are growing out of/on a gilled structure, possibly Pleurocybella porrigens (Angel Wings). Some of the filaments are hair-like; others show many tinier filaments branching off from the main ones in a manner which calls to mind Usnea lichens (no, this is not a lichen). Beth and I are both out of our depth here, so we'll be sending off photos and possibly specimens for expert identification.

Update - We have an ID: Tilachlidium brachiatum, formerly known as Clavaria brachiata or Pseudonectria tilachlidii, it was given the distinction of its own genus based on genetic analyses. It is thought to be non-discriminatory with respect to the host fungi on which it grows.