Hypogymnia Inactiva

Day 106: Just as I was about to start celebrating a second location for a different Hypogymnia ("tube lichen"), I said to myself, "Hang on a mo'...the medullary ceiling was dark, not white. That means it's..." (I grabbed the 40-pound field guide) "...it's inactiva." The narrow-lobed Hypogymnias are easy to confuse without that crucial datum, so I was glad I'd checked. No, I honestly don't have all the information committed to memory. I rely on books and other resources almost on a daily basis, whether it's for lichens or vascular plants. That said, there are different things to check for between genera in the field, e.g., presence and type of fruiting bodies, branching, base colour, whether a podetium (stalk) is hollow or solid, and those are the things I keep in mind when examining a specimen. Even then, it's all too often that I won't be able to differentiate species simply from macroscopic characteristics. If I can get "close enough for gov'mint work," I'm happy. With Hypogymnias, one of the most helpful field identification points is the colour of the medullary ceiling, so when I found this one, I pinched off one small lobe and peeled it apart. Hypogymnias are called "tube lichens" for a good reason. Their lobes are hollow, like balloon animals. Separate the blue-green top from the black lower surface, and the telling point will be what colour is on the inside of the top layer. If anyone had been close by, they would have heard me apologize, "Sorry, sorry. I can't tell who you are without doing this. Sorry!" as I nipped off an inch with my thumbnail. Yes, seriously.

Platismatia Stenophylla, Ribbon Rag Lichen

Day 105: The Pacific Northwest has its share of Rag Lichens, so-called because they have the feel of a damp dishrag when touched. Many of the species are quite "leafy," and can often be found growing on old cedar fences as well as tree branches. At least two are more "lacy" in appearance: Platismatia stenophylla (above) and P. herrei. Both of them form loose clusters which frequently become dislodged during wind events. I've learned to differentiate them on sight, but in the early days of my lichen adventures, I had to put them under the microscope to check for isidia/soredia (reproductive structures), present in P. herrei but absent in P. stenophylla.

Hunting Haareis

Day 104: They say timing is everything, and with a few years of experience behind me, I've gotten fairly good at predicting when the haareis ("hair ice") will emerge at Big Bridge. Conditions have to be perfect for its formation, a Goldilocks combination of temperature and humidity, and of course the presence of the fungus Exidiopsis effusa which is the most important component. The exact mechanism is unknown, but the general idea is that Exidiopsis forces moisture out of decaying wood following the medullary rays of the wood's structure, thereby creating threads of ice which may attain lengths up to eight inches. The longest I've personally seen would have been about two inches. The ones in this photo measure a little over an inch in length.

Now here's the story. I know where Exidiopsis lives in the general vicinity of Big Bridge, off trail and through an obstacle course of blackberry vines, salmonberry thickets, reed-canary grass and fallen logs. As I mentioned yesterday, I sent up a plea to the Frost Spirits, asking them to provide a good example so I'd have something to post on my blog. To that end, I parked the car and set off at a dead lope along the mile to Big Bridge. I was nearly there when I spotted one small tuft at trailside and, afraid it might disappear if a ray of sun hit it, I took pictures before continuing on to the main site. The core of Exidiopsis country yielded up a few more small specimens, and by the time I left the area, I was satisfied that I had material for a post. I took my time getting back to the car, and since at that point I wasn't so goal-oriented, I was more observant. Roughly a tenth of a mile from parking, I spotted a larger, more intricate cluster of haareis and the beautiful example shown above. Even closer to the car, I found more right along the side of the trail. I had been so intent on my mission that I'd gone right past the best of them all in my haste to reach Big Bridge. 

Mission to Big Bridge

Day 103: Sometimes when it feels like botany and natural history have closed their doors and rolled up the sidewalks, a trail will surprise me. I had a suspicion...no, I had a fleeting hope that Big Bridge could give me material for one post if I was willing to brave sub-freezing temps to make the 2-mile round trip hike. I shot a prayer to the Frost Spirits with a specific request, and off I went. A few steps before reaching the bridge, they rewarded me with...well, for that, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. But not only did I find what I was hoping to discover, I gleaned at least two more "blogworthy" photos which will cover the next couple of days. It's hard to find interesting material in the dead of winter, but this morning, the Big Bridge trail paid off.

Thrums Runner

Day 102: The "seed" of this project was a handful of 6-foot long thrums in light blue and lime green, enough to use (doubled) as warp for slightly more than half the width of the piece. I supplemented the warp with shuttle leftovers and end-of-cone/dye lot remains in lavender and white, and then threw in some darker blue for accents. In the end, I had enough to make either two placemats or one runner using shorter thrums for the weft, zanshiori-style. I opted for a runner or, if push comes to shove, a piece of fabric which could be used to make a shopping bag. The finished dimensions are 34.5" x 12" raw, which will shrink to roughly 30" x 11" after being brutalized in the washer and dryer. The zanshiori style really appeals to my thrifty nature, and while I was working on this piece, I finished up the warp on my floor loom, so now I have another batch of thrums to put on the rigid heddle. I call it "half-lifing," working with leftovers until they're too short to use for anything else.

Aurora Borealis

Day 101: It finally happened, that rare coincidence of a celestial event and clear skies in the Pacific Northwest! The aurorae did not appear Tuesday night as anything more than a faint red glow which my current camera could not capture on any available setting, and Tuesday's display was supposed to be the strongest. Consequently, I almost didn't bother to check Wednesday night, but then I said to myself, "Well, ya never know." And this was what I saw. I had had the foresight to drag out my older camera (the one which no longer talks directly to the computer by a cable, necessitating use of an SD card reader), and charged up a battery. After checking the EXIF information on a previous batch of aurora photos, I set the exposure ISO 200, f2.7, and 15 seconds (the maximum the camera will allow). Any higher ISO produces a very grainy image with that particular camera. The show lasted about half an hour, gradually fading to pale green. A subsequent check in the wee hours showed nothing but stars, and I crawled back under the electric blanket, snuggled up to the nice, warm cat and caught another hour's sleep.

Try, Try Again

Day 100: "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." Those seem to be the words to live by when warping a Leksand loom. The bag clips rescued my last band in the end, but what I really need to figure out is how to put a warp on with even tension which can be maintained through the weaving process. I decided to experiment with bag clips in place of choke ties, and as I wound on, I used them to move any slack in the warp toward the cloth roller. This is not a long warp by any means, but neither is it the minimum the loom can accommodate. I butted the loom up against a card table with a peg on the far side, effectively doubling the length to give myself roughly 9-10 feet of workable warp using seven pattern threads for the design. The pattern threads are where the slack comes in, so we'll see how it goes.