Medlar Flower

It's possible I may get a couple of medlars on my Mespilus germanica this year if the pollinators cooperate! The tree has half a dozen flowers in varying stages of openness. What's a medlar? It's a member of the Rose family, believe it or not, and the fruit resembles an outsized rose hip. But here's the catch: you can't eat them/make jelly out of them until they've begun to rot. Yep, you read that right. Once they've been hit with a light frost, they begin to soften, and once they're thoroughly mushy, they're ready to eat. You can pick them or gather them where they've dropped from the tree, and take them indoors to "ripen" during a process called "bletting." The taste is honey-like with a hint of citrus/rose. I haven't perfected making the jelly yet, but the batch which didn't set made a lovely, aromatic syrup to stir into vanilla yogurt. It also made a delicious glaze for my Christmas ham!

Gooseberry Bonanza

Take a gander at my goose...berries! I think this is going to be a record harvest! And a good thing, because not only is gooseberry jam my personal favourite, I've addicted my weaving partner to it. But he should be having his own gooseberries to harvest in a few years. I soil-layered a couple of starts for him last fall. Although you can't see the spines in this photo, picking gooseberries is hazardous and must be done with great care. And then there's the matter of topping-and-tailing each individual berry (i.e., cutting off the flower end and the stem) before you can make jam. There are no shortcuts, believe me! I harvest them as they ripen (a subjective matter, that...I pick when they first start to "give" a little when squeezed), and after I've topped-and-tailed them, I cut each one in two and freeze them. Then when the cooler fall weather sets in, I make jam.

In other garden news, I will also have a record crop of figs if all goes well. They're as big as the end of my thumb now, and there must be at least 40 on a six-foot tall tree. The kiwi vines are setting flowers, and I'm hoping the weather doesn't get too hot or too cold before they set fruit. On the other hand, I was terribly disappointed that my purple akebia did not produce a single female flower this year, so there will be no fruit there. The male purple flowers do not pollinate the white females.

Native Honeysuckle, Lonicera Ciliosa

The native honeysuckles are in bloom, and I couldn't resist taking a photo while I was walking on the Bud Blancher Trail. The orange one shown here is Lonicera ciliosa, and is probably the most common in the local area. It bears the uninspired common name of "Orange Honeysuckle." Other species of Lonicera may be white, cream, yellow, pink, purple, or various combinations of these colours, and may appear either as a vine or a small shrub. They are much loved by hummingbirds for the nectar held deep in their flowers. I have to admit that as a child, I was guilty of pinching off a blossom or two for a sweet treat. I left these for my little birdie friends.

1000 Day Streak

I have to say I'm pretty proud of this. Admittedly, I had to "redeem" it when my computer died and I was out of commission for a week, a process which involved doing the whole week's lessons in one go, but at least I was allowed to do so. Can I speak Spanish now? Well, I've never uttered a single word to another human being, so that's not been tested, but I have read several novels (full-length ones) aimed at "young adults" with reasonably good comprehension. I struggle with verb tenses, and for that, I blame Duolingo. They don't focus on any one tense long enough for it to sink in. That said, I am pleased with my progress.

Ragged Robins

Lychnis flos-cuculi. Yeah, that's a mouthful, even for me who can say "Myriosclerotinia caricis-ampullaceae" without batting an eye. Let's call these little pretties by their common name, Ragged Robins. They came to me as seeds. I planted them in a big flower pot late one autumn and promptly forgot all about them. The following spring, when the sprouts came up, I took a look at them and said, "Huh, some new kind of weed," and pulled 99% of them up by their roots! A few weeks later, it registered: "Oh, dammit! Those were my Ragged Robins!" Fortunately, the 1% which had escaped my fury grew, flowered, matured, and self-sowed themselves nicely. They're still mostly confined to the pot, although a few are coming up at the base of it where seed has spilled over. They do have to be kept in check so they don't take over the world.

Hydrophyllum Tenuipes and Friend

Pacific Waterleaf (Hydrophyllum tenuipes) is a common understory plant in the moist lowlands of the Pacific Northwest. Rumour has it that it's edible, but I can't speak from personal experience. That buzzy little bee needs it worse than I do, in any event. So, how do you know if you have Pacific or one of the other Waterleafs? Leaf shape is one clue, but the field identification point which should be the most obvious is the long stamens which extend well beyond the petals of the flowers. The petals may be purplish or white, or they may develop a purple blush as they age.

A Little Big Day

Yesterday was Global Big Day. Although I don't participate in the worldwide count, I record the birds in my yard for my own amusement. It was certainly not a record (I think I counted 28 or 29 species in my best year), but there were a couple of surprises. A small group of Canada Geese flew the length of the pasture early in the morning, and a single Brown-headed Cowbird showed up at the feeder. The swallow perched on the neighbour's power line turned out to be a Violet-green instead of Tree, which marks the first time I've seen V-gs in several years (my swallow house is as yet unoccupied, and looks like it will probably remain empty again this year). There was a surprising absence as well. Not a single sparrow showed up, although until yesterday, I've been seeing both White-crowned and Golden-crowned almost daily. Where'd they go? As Big Days go, it was not the best, but neither was it the worst. Raven capped the day by being #18.