Big Doug's Hellebore

Several years ago, I cleared out a space under Big Doug, intending to fill it with shade-tolerant species. To that end, I solicited root cuttings from my botany partners' garden, and they brought me a bucketful of Hellebores. Only one has survived, but I can now say that it is on its way to becoming a major feature. Whether I'll live long enough to see it as big as the ones in my main flower bed remains to be seen! Also in Big Doug's shady nook are some unhappy Hostas, but any fern I tried to plant there has withered and died. As with all my gardening pursuits, the philosophy is that if something likes the conditions I can provide, I'll plant more. If it refuses to grow for me without much effort on my part, I'll give it a pass. The Hellebore has apparently decided in my favour.

Storm Debris

Day 39: Yeah, it's going to take a while to get this mess cleaned up, and there's another storm coming in tonight. It shouldn't be as bad as the last one, and maybe it will actually help by bringing down some of the "widow-makers" which are hung up in the branches above me. It was pretty scary listening to these big branches fall in the night. Big Doug (the Douglas-fir at the right edge of the top photo) is right outside my bedroom. He has a girth at eye height of almost 14 feet, and is split about sixty feet up into two "schoolmarms." (The etymology of that bit of argot is -cough- not exactly family-friendly, so I'll leave it to your imaginations.) Either one of them could crush both the house and carport if it came down. I've thought about having Big Doug cut, but he helps block traffic noise and keeps the yard cooler during the summer months. The property to the west of me is wooded, and although the trees aren't as substantial as Big Doug, they're still at least 150 feet tall, and any one of them could also take out the house, but being grouped fairly tightly together, they protect each other from catching the wind. The bottom picture shows the branches which fell from trees which are not on my property. In any event, Doug-firs are pretty resilient insofar as surviving storms are concerned. They are deeply rooted, and although they shed branches, they seldom go completely over. The practice of limbing the lower branches may sound like a good idea, but in fact it is not. Removing the "skirt" eliminates its support for the branches above it, making the upper branches more vulnerable to breakage from wind or the weight of snow. A Doug-fir with a healthy skirt will generally only shed small branches from its upper portion. Big Doug's skirt had been removed before I bought this place. Yep, I have a mess to clean up, and more to come. The up side to all this is that I'll have fun looking for canopy lichens on those branches, and I might even find some kidneys if I'm lucky.

Lichenscape

Day 51: In between downpours, I dashed out into the yard to hunt for something "blog-worthy," and only came up with this delightful lichenscape which was growing on a fallen branch under Big Doug. Douglas-fir supports a wide variety of lichens with some species only occurring in the upper canopy, so I carefull inspect any "donations" following windstorms. We haven't had a lot of bluster yet this fall, but the rain also contributes to the downfall of fragile or damaged limbs when bark and lichen colonies become sodden. In this case, there's nothing unusual here, just Parmelia, Platismatia, perhaps a little Usnea, and lurking in amongst the foliose bits, two tiny mushrooms of indeterminate species, not exactly something you'd expect to find on a branch from forty feet up. Aside from the other questions this raises, I am compelled to ask: How much space do fungi require? The answer is simple: As mushroom as possible. Okay, I'll go away now.

Platismatia Herrei

Day 99: Although I have read nothing to support it, I think of Platismatia herrei (Tattered Rag Lichen) as a canopy species based on personal observation. I generally find it after wind or snow storms when material is brought down from the overstory, as was the case here. If you had asked me if P. herrei occurred on my property, I'd have said no until this morning when, on a routine patrol for "blog shots," I found a bit of it under Big Doug, the enormous Douglas-fir in the northwest corner of my yard. Whether it fell from Big Doug or the smaller Pseudotsuga which stands next to him, I can't say, but I suspect they may both harbour the lichen, tangled as they are in each others' evergreen arms. Who knows? Maybe they even have Kidneys (Nephroma helveticum) up there in their crowns. Now that would be a pleasant surprise!

Desperately Seeking Protein

Day 116: A faint, dry sound registered subliminally, drawing my eyes to the big Doug fir at the corner of my front yard. I waited, standing as still as it is humanly possible to stand, and then in the deep shadow at the base of the tree, somewhat obscured by the branches of a minor shrub, a "piece of bark" moved, its toenails making the scratchy noise as it progressed around the tree. For the next ten minutes, a Northern Flicker (Red-Shafted Flicker) diligently probed the deep crevices in Big Doug's hide, always staying in the shadow. Then at last, the bird moved into the single brush-free spot of sun three feet up from the tree's base, rapping a few times, then gobbling down the insects raised by the vibration. At times, the Flicker's entire head would disappear from sight as it sought bugs deeper in the cracks. I was amazed that the bird's skull would fit into such a narrow opening. I wonder what's hatching, that it draws two insectivorous bird species to my yard on a biting-cold February day? It must be good, because the Thrushes were back in force again today after a 17-degree night, desperately seeking protein in the leaf litter.