Which Of These Objects...

Day 138: Which of these objects isn't like the others? Yep, that's right...the shiny white smooth one. I have had very little dental work done compared to most people, the exceptions being the extraction of two impacted wisdom teeth two years ago, and earlier extraction of two lower molars plus three tiny fillings. However, about ten days ago, a piece popped off the back of one of my front teeth while I was brushing them, and I knew I had no choice but to go to a dentist. Today, I had a temporary crown installed. The permanent one will go on in two weeks. Obviously, this wasn't my ideal way to spend a Monday morning, but it was far less painful than I'd anticipated. I've spared you the colour version, but I am not inclined toward chasing after a "blog shot" on this drenching afternoon.

Separating Sheep From Goats

Day 137: Seeds have a shelf life. Some are only viable in the first planting season after harvest. Others may lay dormant for years, even though buried in soil. That said, because dates printed on seed packets are generally quite conservative, you can always plant a "test run" to determine the germination rate of seeds stored past their recommended pull-date. I wasn't sure how long cilantro/coriander would keep, so I planted my "leftovers" in a flower pot and set it in the kitchen window two weeks ago. Within a few days, I had sprouts. However, they didn't look like coriander. After a few days went by, I recognized them as sunflowers. I shouldn't have been surprised. The squirrels get in my garage and hide their gleanings in the open bags of potting soil. I dutifully pulled up the "volunteers" and waited for something else to pop up. The next thing to show was a monocot, i.e., it had a single cotyledon leaf, again not cilantro. Cilantro is a dicot. When it sprouts, it exhibits a pair of leaves. Weeding out the monocots, I discovered that they were attached to millet grains, more bird seed stashed by gardening rodents. Now I am left with a potful of dicots which should produce true leaves shortly, and if they don't look like cilantro this time around, I'll have to buy a new packet.

Legend Of The Pysanky

Day 136: Ukrainian folklore tells us that at the edge of the world, the beast of Hate lies imprisoned in chains. Yet his servants walk among us, spreading his works and causing the chains to loosen, thereby allowing him further reach into the lives of Men. It is also told that for every pysanky made or given, a new link is forged and added to those which bind the monster. While I can only give you this pysanky virtually (I created it and dozens of others some forty years ago when my hands were more steady and the world was a better place), take its love into your hearts and drive the beast back into its den.

When Life Gives You Fungus

Day 135: They say that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. What course of action is recommended when life gives you fungus? Having no idea how much cloud-ears would swell when rehydrated, I broke off an ambitious half of a block which when whole measured 2 1/2" x 1 1/4" x 3/8", to reconstitute for my hot-and-sour soup. The resultant expansion filled a quart jar! Not one to waste a single scrap of fungal material, I did a quick assessment of the contents of the fridge to see what other main dish I might make to include them. A stir-fry of carrot, napa cabbage, green onion, bamboo shoots (also left over from the soup), barbecue pork and fungus quickly came together, flavoured with soy sauce and brown sugar, and topped with a garnish of spring onions and sesame seeds. This was served over white rice with a snowskin mooncake on the side for dessert (let it be noted that these mooncakes freeze beautifully with no loss of taste/texture to the skin or the custard filling). Even after preparing enough for three meals, I still have a pint of cloud-ears in the fridge!

Cold Toes

Day 134: Have you ever wondered why birds' toes don't suffer from frostbite except during extreme freezing events? The major arteries (carrying warm blood from the heart to the extremities) and veins (carrying cooled blood back to the heart) split into multiple smaller vessels at the leg and wing joints nearest the body and are closely intertwined to form a "re-heating" network. Outgoing blood transfers as much as 85% of its heat to the chilled blood returning to the body. This process is known as "countercurrent circulation." It has also been noted that birds in colder regions tend to have smaller beaks and feet, reducing the amount of exposure they receive. Some small birds (hummingbirds, for example) may enter a state of torpor to survive cold nights, with their normal body temperature dropping as much as forty degrees! In torpor, a hummingbird's heart rate may drop from 500 beats per minute to 50 or less. The bird may look like it's dying when in torpor, but in fact, it's executing a physiological strategy which helps it survive bitter weather.

Spring Thrush

Day 133: Typically, male Varied Thrush (Ixoreus naevius, shown here) arrive ahead of the females, hoping to establish exclusive territory which they will defend against rivals for the same turf, often locking beaks with their competitor during a struggle for dominance. He voices his call both to alert other males that he has taken possession of an area, but also to attract potential mates. It is thought that nest-building is the domain of the female, and Varied Thrush are known to be monogamous, at least through one season and possibly longer. If two broods are raised in a single year, it is likely that the father of both is the same bird. The female lays up to six eggs. The young are altricial (nidicolous), i.e., naked but for patches of soft down (and here I must voice my obligatory qualifier: "there is nothing...absolutely nothing!...cuter than baby birds"). In summer, the Thrush's diet consists largely of insects which it scavenges from leaf litter. In the winter, the birds eat fruits and nuts.

Too-too-too-too-too Snowy Day

Day 132: The internet has gone a bit overboard with palindromic numbers and "special" days like Pi Day (3.14, or better yet, 3.14.15), but I figured I might as well jump on the bandwagon because this morning was "2-22-22" snowy for late February in the Pacific Northwest. A major cold front has dropped down out of the Arctic, so vast that it is affecting the entire northern portion of the US, and extending as far south on this coast as northern California. We're to have possible record lows here, although they missed last night's forecast by ten degrees Fahrenheit. I have no objections to a little snow, but if it really does hit 9 degrees (that's minus 12 Centigrade), it will be a record for the last week of  February at my station, established over thirty years ago in this location. Previous late-February lows have been 11 F. in 2006 and 14 F. in 2018. Thanks, but that's a record I'd prefer not to break!

Hot-and-sour Soup

Day 131: Now THIS is a good hot-and-sour soup! And it couldn't have been prepared more timely. The overnight low is forecast to be 9 degrees F. on Tuesday night. That said, I didn't plan it that way. I just wanted to make the soup because the pandemic has kept me out of my favourite Chinese restaurant for over two years now, and that's too long to go without eating hot-and-sour. I've made this dish on many occasions, but never with quite all the right ingredients. This time around, I decided to remedy that, although I did substitute a blend of white rice vinegar and balsamic for the black Chinese vinegar. For me, the flavour of hot-and-sour soup pivots on two things: cloud-ear fungus and "fun see," the latter being the first Chinese term I learned for glass noodles (also known as "sai fun"). I prefer the Korean-style sweet-potato glass noodle (jap chae noodle) to those made with mung beans. The shiitake mushrooms give the soup a bit of extra "chew," but be sure you rehydrate them well. And be warned: cloud-ears reconstitute to an amazing size when soaked in warm water. You'll only need a loose tablespoonful of the dried form.

1 16-ounce can of chicken broth
1 1/2 cans water
1 tsp chicken bouillon
2 Tbsp (or more) black fungus - hydrated, sliced
3-4 dried shiitake mushrooms - hydrated, sliced
1/8 cup julienne bamboo shoots
1/8 cup thinly sliced napa greens (optional)
1 green onion, greens only, cut into small pieces
1/2 tsp minced ginger
several pieces of Chinese barbecue pork (char siu) sliced thinly (optional)
1/4 block extra firm tofu, sliced into strips (firm will also work)
2 beaten eggs
1 3/4 oz. Korean sweet potato glass noodles, prepared
1 Tbsp sesame oil

SEASONINGS 1:
2 Tbsp soy sauce
1 tsp sugar
2 Tbsp cornstarch mixed with water

SEASONINGS 2:
2 Tbsp black rice vinegar (or substitute 1 Tbsp. each rice vinegar and balsamic vinegar)
1 tsp white pepper

Rehydrate mushrooms for 4 hours. Prepare glass noodles separately by boiling for 5 minutes. Then toss with sesame oil to prevent sticking and set aside. Slice rehydrated mushrooms thinly. Combine stock, mushrooms, vegetables and ginger (not tofu or eggs) and cook until vegetables are done, but still firm. Add tofu. Add beaten eggs, drizzling them into the soup while very gently stirring it, but be careful not to break the tofu. Add prepared glass noodles and bring soup back to the boil. Then add first seasonings and stir gently until cornstarch clears. Just before removing from the heat, add rice vinegar and white pepper. Serve with a garnish of scallions or cilantro if desired.

Best-Laid Flans

Day 130: With apologies to Rabbie, "The best-laid flans...gang aft a-gley." Not this one! After making Snowskin Mooncakes which required roughly one tablespoon of sweetened condensed milk, I was in a bit of a quandary with respect to how to use the remaining 99.5% in the open can. Fudge was an obvious answer, but uninspired, so I began browsing YouTube once again. Now I am an old hand at making flan, so when I saw a recipe from Preppy Kitchen, I almost skipped over it thinking that it would probably mean a trip to the grocery store for cream, but I decided to watch it anyway. About halfway through, I said,"Hang on a mo'...sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk? No cream? I have everything I need for this!" I put it together late yesterday afternoon, chilled it overnight and did the taste-test for breakfast-dessert. Put up against my usual recipe, you might notice a slightly less creamy flavour, but that's a fair trade-off for being able to keep all the ingredients on hand. I will repeat the recipe here in case you want to try it, but would also suggest that you look up Preppy Kitchen. The presentations are quite entertaining, and his recipes are always accurate.

Place 3/4 cup of sugar in a shallow pan (I used a small frying pan). Add 1/4 cup water and mix briefly. Place over medium-high heat and cook without stirring until sugar is nicely browned (hard-crack stage). Pour the caramel into an 8- or 9-inch pan and set aside to cool until the caramel hardens.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Adding one at a time, beat six eggs until smooth. Add one 15-ounce can of sweetened condensed milk, one 12-ounce can of evaporated milk and one Tbsp. vanilla. Beat until thoroughly incorporated. Pour into your chosen pan.

To bake, you will need a second pan somewhat larger than the pan for the custard. Place the pan containing the custard in the larger pan, and then add boiling water to the larger pan until it's about halfway up the sides of the custard pan. Put in the oven and bake for 45-60 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center of the custard (but not into the caramel on the bottom) comes out clean. NB: If your ingredients are refrigerated, baking time may have to be extended even longer. Because my sweetened condensed milk had been in the fridge, I had to bake the custard for an additional half hour. Remove from oven and cool on countertop for 15-20 minutes. Cover with plastic wrap pressed down against the surface and chill for at least 4 hours. To remove from pan, run a knife around the edge of the custard, set the pan in warm water for a couple of minutes and then invert onto a plate. The caramel will have turned into the sticky syrup which makes this Latin dessert such a decadent treat.

Skunk's Howe

Day 129: The snowdrops are blooming on Skunk's Howe. It has been just shy of three years since our kitty-girl left us, and sometimes I think Tippy misses her as much as I do. I've seen him catch her scent on a favourite toy, on a blanket, and the questioning "Mirrl?" he directs to me as he makes eye contact defies any suggestion of anthropomorphization that might arise. If I could think as he does, I might understand his emotions better, but although I cannot do so, they are as genuine as my own. Humans, prideful and pitiful subjects that we are, cannot even bridge the gap of cultural differences among our own kind. How can we possibly hope to comprehend how another species thinks and emotes? What goes through Tippy's kitty-mind when he remembers Skunk? Would a human recognize the emotion, or would it be entirely alien? We have a long way to go in our evolution before that question can be answered.

Snowskin Mooncakes

Day 128: Never mind how long it took to collect all the ingredients, never mind the hours spent watching YouTube videos until I finally found a recipe which addressed all the whys, wherefores and pitfalls. The fact is, this project began roughly eight hours ago with a countertop full of little bowls with carefully measured amounts of various flours, oils, salt, sugar and so on, and a Crow blithely oblivious to the amount of work ahead. That said, everything went smoothly and according to the instructions, and despite the fact that my kitchen looks like the aftermath of a Holi festival, the dishes are washed and my first batch of Snowskin Mooncakes is complete. One small mishap occurred when I pressed too firmly while molding the first one. I chalked it up to a learning experience and ate the evidence, all but that last bite you see in the foreground. These mooncakes do not require baking. The dough is cooked before it is molded around the filling (in this case, a thick custard). The word "sticky" has achieved a new status in my vocabulary because both the rice-flour skin and the custard centers are worked by hand before chilling. Even cold, both have a consistency which could put Gorilla Glue out of business. However, once dusted with cooked glutinous rice flour, these treats can be molded and handled without sticking to anything. Although the flavour and texture of rice pastry might not appeal to some Western palates, I think these are delicious! But damnation, they're a lot of work!

Ridiculously Retro

Day 127: This post was prompted by one from sister-of-my-heart Patty. She has been drawing and painting retro objects as part of a project this month, and her recent post of a charming little ceramic cat reminded me of the god-awful wallpaper lining in my medicine cabinet. First of all, I am not a dog person (and the less said on that subject, the better). Secondly, the former owners of my home had apparently been living in a time bubble for at least 25 years, as demonstrated by their taste in decor. My immediate concerns included ridding the kitchen of the calf-sh** brown mottled linoleum and the hideous orange fruit-and-veg patterned contact paper which covered the backsplash and countertops. The two-inch shag orange carpet in the living room also had to go, but it took me several more years to get around to that point financially. The one vestige of the previous occupant's lack of good taste remains in the medicine cabinet, largely because it was applied before the shelves were tacked in place, and it would require dismantling the entire cabinet to get the horrid stuff off. I've lived with it for thirty-plus years, so it might as well stay even though it makes me cringe every time I open the door. Patty, this one's for you.

Mushroom Hunting

 

Day 126: Armchair mushroom hunting can be almost as daunting as searching the woods, as I've recently discovered. With the pandemic limiting my access to any of the Asian markets I'd normally visit, I've been constrained to mail-order several of the ingredients for my best version of hot-and-sour soup, not the least of which were dried shiitakes and cloud-ears (Auricularia polytricha, aka "black fungus"). Yes, I could have bought fresh shiitakes at a grocery store, but the dried ones have a better flavour in the soup, and since I already needed to order cloud-ears, I bought a bag of shittakes big enough to last me the rest of my life. By the end of the week, I should have the last thing I need: glass noodles. I could do without or replace them with rice noodles, but I prefer the round Korean glass noodles made with sweet potato. It's been over two years since I had a bowl of hot-and-sour soup, so I'm going to make a potful big enough to last a month!

Crow's Culinary Adventures

Day 125: If my needlearts storage spaces are crammed with devices which would mystify many people, my kitchen is only slightly less endowed. I do not pretend to be a knowledgeable cook or a good one, but what I make, I make well (breads, for example). Most of the odd objects in my cupboards and drawers are somehow dough-related: rosette irons, krumkake forms, fondant cutters, etc. Perhaps I've leaned that direction because I like the feel and energy involved in manipulating doughs. In any event, the pandemic has driven me to broaden my skills, particularly in the area of Chinese foods which I enjoy greatly. Thus, I've decided to take a great leap to try my hand at mooncakes.

From what I gather (and admittedly, I'm out of my depth here), there are at least two basic types of mooncake: baked and snowskin. The latter is purportedly easier to make and requires fewer specialized ingredients. Snowy mooncakes are a fairly modern invention. The traditional mooncake is baked, and may be filled with anything from sweetened red-bean paste to combinations of nuts and seeds. In either case, a mooncake mold like the one shown above will be needed if the end result is to look like those found in Chinese bakeries. They are most often offered for sale during the Moon Festival in autumn, but may be available at other times as well. Once I have all the ingredients in hand, my first attempt will be custard-filled snowy mooncakes. The YouTube videos make it look easy. Famous last words, right?

Oh, Rye!

Day 124: My "stock-and-trade" breads are Birdseed Sourdough and Cinnamon Swirl, made roughly at a ratio of 12:1. Being sweet, Cinnamon Swirl is a treat as breakfast toast, but as they say, you'd even get tired of eating ice cream if you ate it every day. Occasionally, I'll make a loaf of whole wheat, and even more rarely, pitas to stuff with turkey, cranberry sauce and alfalfa sprouts for summertime sandwiches. I haven't made rye bread in donkey's years, but I've been craving a favourite spread of chopped black olives and cream cheese, and nothing suits that flavour combination better than a good caraway rye. Two Bread Days in one week have left the house smelling utterly divine!

Crow's Rye (single baguette roughly 10" x 5")

1.5 tsp. dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water
1/8 cup brown sugar
1/8 cup molasses
1.5 tsp. salt
1 Tbsp. shortening
175 ml. hot water
1.25 cups dark rye flour
1.5 Tbsp. caraway seed
2 cups sifted bread flour (which you probably won't use completely)

Soften the yeast in 1/4 cup warm water (not hot) for 10 minutes. Combine brown sugar, molasses, salt and shortening with 175 ml. hot water and stir until shortening is melted. Allow to cool to lukewarm. Stir in rye flour and caraway seeds. Mix well and add softened yeast. Add one cup of bread flour and stir to form a soft dough. Cover and let rest for 10 minutes. Knead for 10-12 minutes on a well-floured board, adding more flour as necessary, but do not force the dough to take more flour than it wants to accept (this is important with any bread). Place in a greased bowl and turn the dough to grease it all 'round, then cover and allow to raise in a warm place for 2 hours. Punch down and let rest for 10 minutes. Form into a baguette and place on a cookie sheet greased and dusted lightly with corn meal. Fold a piece of aluminum foil several times and form it into an oval ring 1" high around the dough to keep it from spreading. Cover and allow to raise another 1 1/2 hours. Bake at 375 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until the loaf sounds hollow when rapped on the bottom. After baking, brush with butter for a softer crust. For the spread, combine chopped black olives and cream cheese. It's absolutely scrumptious!

Prismatic Light

Day 123: Held up in my father's arms so that I could observe the full moon, I spoke my first word: "Light!" Not "mama" or "dada," mind you, but "Light!" in a revelation of my first leanings toward science. From that moment on, I was fascinated by the phenomenon. As a young child, I played with mirrors, facing them into themselves, trying to get my eyes into a position where I could see around the bend of the infinite tunnel the reflections created. I was captivated by my father's spyglass and the way it brought far things nearer. When I reached elementary-school age, I was given a microscope by my favourite uncle, opening yet another door into a realm I could not otherwise see. However, it was some time later before they discovered that the world visible through my eyes was nothing more than a smear, and at last I was fitted with glasses which gave me the ability to see almost normally. But in the back of my mind was always the question: Do I see what other people see? This of course is a variation on the old "Does steak taste the same to you as it does to me?" puzzle. The fact is, we have no way of knowing how another person perceives sensory input. We can make educated guesses, and we assume that most people share these experiences in the same way, but we don't really know, not really. (Frankly, I don't like steak, so it must not taste the same to me as it does to you.) In any event, I began gathering optics of all sorts for my amusement: magnifiers, lenses, prisms, etc., and to this day, they intrigue me. For example, why does a mirror reflect the distance as a blur to a person who is nearsighted? It is a flat surface like a sheet of paper, but light does not "print" on it like a billboard. There's some fancy physics going on there, and yes, I understand it, although one part of my mind still insists it shouldn't work that way. And light behaves as both particle and wave. Which is it, because it can't be both? And is it really drawn by gravity? Is there some other force at play, something which we lack the mental ability to conceptualize? I imagine right now you're asking, "What got her off on this tangent today?" It was just a rainbow, a simple shattering of white light through the corner of my sprouter tray: ephemeral, intense and beautiful where it lay for a moment on my kitchen counter.

Plum Beauty

Day 122: It does not matter to me that they spend most of their lives looking like leftover plant stakes, their stalks rising a foot or more from a grey, lumpy caudex before putting out a scant display of foliage. When the Adeniums flower, they do it with a show which will knock your socks off, as this almost fluorescent bloom atop "Plum Beauty" will attest. The occasional blossom makes tending those "dead sticks" well worth the effort. These plants prefer their soil quite dry, thriving in conditions which would kill most other houseplants. If over-watered, the caudex (swollen base) will rot, but if the leaves yellow and drop from UNDER-watering as mine usually do, there is no reason to panic. As long as the caudex remains firm, the plant will undoubtedly survive. I water only when the pots become light to lift, and then flush water through them and allow them to drain before returning them to the saucers. I've kept three alive for several years now, and they bloom two or three times a year.

Shared Space - Usnea And Ramalina

Day 121: It is not uncommon to find lichen species crowding together, intertwined so thoroughly that one might think that the different shapes are simply different manifestations of the same lichen, especially when they are similarly coloured like this combination of Ramalina and Usnea. These two species share a common photobiont, the algae which performs the task of photosynthesis. However, the fungal component of these two lichens is different, as microscopic examination of their spores would likely reveal. The fungus is largely responsible for determining the general morphology of a lichen, i.e., whether it is foliose (leafy), fruticose (having a more three-dimensional structure) or crustose (crust-like). A third component in lichens is yeast, of which there are also numerous strains. Yeasts provide protection against microbes. There's a lot going on in this shared space!

Footnote: By request, a specimen from yesterday's Arum dig will be placed in the WTU Herbarium as soon as it is dry.

Arum Italicum

Day 120: During my last walk in the Cowlitz Wildlife area near Mossyrock Dam, I was able to get into areas I'd not patrolled previously for invasives thanks to the blackberries having been mowed. While on my ramble, I found a plant I knew was non-native, and I was fairly certain of its identity, but I wanted to be sure. I confirmed my suspicions with photographs, but what came as a real surprise was its listing as a Class C invasive in the state. Italiam arum (Arum italicum) has been reported in several counties in western Washington (although not in Lewis where I found it), and is considered an agricultural pest. It is poisonous to livestock and in fact may cause skin irritation in susceptible individuals among humans. I went back today armed with a shovel and wearing gloves to handle it, dug out roughly five gallons of the plant. It propagates by means of bulblets, and although I sifted through the soil for anything larger than the tip of my little finger, I am sure that hundred, perhaps even thousands of tiny pea- to pinhead-sized bulbs evaded me. According to authoritative sources, it may take a decade or longer of annual monitoring and treatment before it can be said that it has been eradicated. Once it was sold as a garden plant, but I abandoned any ideas I'd had of transferring it to my yard. All the material went in the bin with the exception of one specimen which is currently in my plant press and will be sent to the Burke Herbarium as the first documented occurrence in Lewis County.

Saturday

Day 119: This is Saturday, the one and only Tillandsia I have been able to keep alive longer than a month. Saturday has been with me five years now, and when I look at the photo I took of him when he was only a year old, I am surprised by how much he has grown. If you'd asked for a guess, I'd have said he looked almost identical to the plant I brought home from the nursery in 2017, but in fact, he has doubled in size (not that he'll ever outgrow his dish). He's much bushier now, if not much taller, and although he's not particularly impressive or showy, he brings me great joy simply by having stayed alive. The key to this horticultural success is in his nickname: every Saturday, he gets a light spray of plain water before being returned to the indirect light of a west window. The window receives little afternoon sun, blocked as it is by tall evergreens from 2 PM onward. I thought it was time this little stalwart received his due as a feature on my blog. Thanks for being there, Saturday!

Finding Microorganisms

Day 118: For some time now, I have been pinching up moss samples from various locations in my yard (and sometimes elsewhere) in the hopes of being able to find tardigrades (also known as "water bears" or "moss piglets") with the microscope. For months, I had been astonishingly unsuccessful with what should have been a relatively simple exercise, and I finally discovered that the problem lay in my technique. After agitating my moss samples in water, I had been trying to avoid picking up debris with the pipette. As I learned a few weeks ago, that was also why I wasn't picking up any tardigrades. The cover glass on the first slide I prepared successfully was held a bit too far aloft to get good focus on my subjects. A fragment of moss gave them far too much room to swim around, but I was able to observe at least half a dozen through the objective. My next several attempts were miserable flops, even though I'd taken the moss sample from the very same fence rail under similar weather conditions. This morning, I was almost certain I'd failed again with the sample I collected yesterday, but taking a second drop of water for examination brought this little character into view, stretching out and contracting as it moved across the slide almost too fast for me to capture with the camera. As it turned out, I had found a rotifer rather than a tardigrade, but it was exhilarating nevertheless.

Rites Of Spring

Day 117: If the First Day of Skunk Cabbage signifies the beginning of the year, what then is the Festival of Pussywillows? My friends, it is the upbeat note on which we end the tale of Winter, the time when we close the book and consign its grey story to memory. For a few more weeks, it will command our attention occasionally, but we can push it aside with a glance at the garden space and a few envelopes of hopeful seeds. Pussywillows are a promise of light and warmth, of brown giving way to green. They are the beacon guiding us to the shovel and to the hoe, and their swelling carries the scent of freshly turned soil. Pussywillows are a cycle unto themselves, both end and beginning, come 'round to bind the loop of the year end to end with their soft, silvery stitches.

Sprout Farm

Day 116: Insofar as growing produce is concerned, I am a notorious failure. I can grow beautiful flowers and don't do too badly with berries, but vegetable science eludes me. However, as with most rules, there is an exception: alfalfa sprouts. I've been hankering for Chinese food, and of course because of the pandemic, I won't go in a restaurant or even order take-out, so the obvious solution is to make my own. YouTube has been remarkably instructive in this regard, although I began my search for recipes with a small degree of experience in my background, hence the presence of sprouter trays in the back of a kitchen cupboard. It's been at least fifteen years (probably twenty) since I used them, and while I could have made do with a Mason jar and a piece of screen wire, the trays are much easier to use. The seeds are spread on the perforated tray with sufficient water in the lower level to just moisten them. The water should be changed out every day to prevent molding, but within five or six days, your alfalfa sprouts should be ready to use. They can go on salads, in spring rolls or stir-fries. Sometimes, I just pinch up a few and eat them straight.

Northern Flicker, Colaptes Auratus

Day 115: Aside from the charming polka-dot costume, Colaptes auratus (Northern Flicker) is quite the acrobat. Utilizing his tail to form a third tripod point in conjunction with his feet, he is able to stabilize himself and get better leverage for pecking. Note that I have used a masculine pronoun. Males of the Red-Shafted race (Colaptes auratus cafer) sport a dashing red "moustache." That said, where the ranges of Red-Shafted and Yellow-Shafted overlap as they do in my area, the facial markings may vary. In flight, the two races can be distinguished more readily as their respective colours are revealed. The flight pattern is a distinctive repetition of "flap-flap-flap, glide" as the bird "flickers" from one perch to another.

I'll Take A Bao

Day 114: Permit me to take a bao. I have just made a dozen utterly delicious pork steamed buns using a recipe I found on YouTube made by Mandy of "Souped Up Recipes." Out of respect for her generously-provided, clear instruction, I will direct you to look her up rather than repeating the recipe here. She has dozens of videos on Chinese cooking.

Bao (steamed buns) sounded fairly daunting, but I wanted to try it and I hoped my familiarity with various types of dough would give me a leg up. As it was, the pastry turned out drier than anticipated, probably due to the fact that I was using bread flour rather than all-purpose. I added a little more water to compensate. The amount of yeast suggested in the ingredients list had me a little worried, but as it turned out, a teaspoonful was plenty, despite other YouTube versions calling for as much as a tablespoon plus other leavening agents. For my filling, I did not follow Mandy's recipe exactly. I used pork sausage for two reasons: it's what I had on hand, and it's what I usually use to stuff wontons. Fillings for bao can be as creative as you'd like, and they do not have to include meat if you're vegetarian. Use sprouts, bok choy, carrots, peas, water chestnuts and spice them to your individual taste. My steamer would only accommodate three buns on each of two levels, so I cooked them in two batches. These are BIG bao! Two are easily enough for a dinner, and they can be frozen and re-steamed. Oh, I probably should add that I practiced pleating bao using a circle of fabric until I was confident I could make a presentable spiral. Honestly, that's the hardest part of making this Chinese treat.

One Chicken Done

Day 113: By request, and because I am really struggling for both material and inspiration. 

Although I'm using the design elements for a sampler, the pattern for the "Mexican Chickens Tea Cozy" appeared in "Buttermilk Biscuits," published in 1981 by The Vanessa-Ann Collection. It is the only pattern I have ever used from the booklet, but I have made it at least half a dozen times on various fabric counts. For this version, I'm working on 18-count oatmeal Aida using two strands of floss for the cross-stitch and one strand for the backstitch in order to get good coverage of the canvas. The second chicken is roughly one-third complete. A border of golden chicken-wire will surround them and the verse, "The goal of Life is living in agreement with Nature," the dictum which frames my existence as quoted from the Greek philosopher Zeno of Citium. I have not yet decided how the piece will be mounted.

Age And Infirmity

Day 112: There's no dodging it. I'm not getting any younger, and these last two years have made me more keenly aware of the fact than I'd care to admit. Idleness and stress are taking their toll on my health and stamina, and although I could still probably drop a fairly large percentage of people half my age on a hike, the old grey mare just ain't what she used to be. Hard truth, but there you have it. Perhaps the most noticeable decline is in my joints. No longer as flexible as they should be, they're getting arthritic and stiff to the point that it's painful to hold an embroidery hoop for any length of time. That said, I flatly refuse to give up the things I enjoy just because it hurts when I do them, but when there is a simple solution available, far be it from me to scorn it. I've eyeballed sit-on embroidery frames for years, but never felt I could justify purchasing one. My left thumb recently convinced me otherwise, and oh, what a relief it is! Now I have both hands free so that I can work cross-stitch in the same manner I'd do needlepoint or quilting, one hand above the piece and one below. As an added benefit, the stress on my shoulders is less as well. The base is not nearly as uncomfortable to secure beneath my legs as I was afraid it would be. In fact, I don't even notice that I'm holding it in place. Like it or not, sometimes accommodations for age and infirmity must be made, but now I'm kicking myself for not making the small investment years earlier.

Phlebia Radiata

Day 111: As so often happens when I am searching for interesting details about species, I went down a rabbit-hole populated with decomposers and emerged richer for the experience. I now know way more about lignins and how they break down than I will ever need to apply in my daily life, and rather than go into peroxidases and protoporphyrins, I'll just tell you that certain fungi such as Phlebia radiata (aka White-rot) produce enzymes which are important in the carbon cycle because they make lignins break down faster. This process not only releases CO2 into the atmosphere, it liberates nutrients into the soil. Don't underestimate your friendly neighbourhood fungus. Fungi are a vital component in more ecosystems than you can imagine or, as I am wont to say at times, "Fungus is at the root of almost everything."

I can't resist giving another linguistic sidebar here because this one should be relatively obvious. "Radiata" should suggest "radiating," which this fungus does from a central point of attachment. The person who draws your blood for lab work is called a "phlebotomist." "Phleb-" as a suffix refers to veins.