Solstice Greetings

Day 69: A Happy Solstice to you, my readers! Although holly poses no problem to find, mistletoe is quite another story. I have yet to observe it growing in the wild, and thus must make do with a sprig I created from plastic modelling clay. That said, three species do occur in the Pacific Northwest. Phoradendron flavenscens (Oak Mistletoe) grows primarily in the Willamette Valley (Oregon). Western Dwarf Mistletoe (Arceuthobium campylopodium) occurs on a variety of conifers, and Douglas' Dwarf Mistletoe is parasitic on Douglas fir (but only infrequently on the west side of the Cascades). It's possible that I have seen it without realizing it; it causes abnormal and irregular growth in its host, and may appear at a distance to look like massed fir needles and twigs. Arceuthobium campylopodium is known to occur in Mount Rainier National Park, specifically in the vicinity of White River. Ah! A project! Let me make this Solstice resolution: to find and photograph Dwarf Mistletoe during the coming year.

Chaos Beneath The Tree!

Day 72: Nooooooo! They only get let out once or twice a year, so you can't blame them for getting excited, but this was the scene this morning, ribbons and wrappings everywhere, and almost every present pecked or scratched. Utter chaos! But I couldn't be cross, not with all the happy chirping of seasonal carols (never mind that the crows sing off-key). The Bird Gang would like me to wish everyone the best for the holidays, and after all, there's only one more sleep 'til Christmas.

Solstice Greetings To All!

Day 69: Since the Solstice will occur at an hour when any right-minded person should be entertaining visions of sugarplums, I will take this opportunity to wish my friends and readers the joys of the day. In any event, the occasion has been ushered in with a fall of snow: winter has arrived a few hours early to the party, and by all estimates, will probably overstay its welcome. For now, however, I am delighted by the storybook scene outside my window, as visually traditional of the season as Currier and Ives. Let it snow! Here in my snug domain, I will dance the holly and the mistletoe. The Light is returning! Dark nights swiftly go!

Moveable Feast

Day 149: I did not know today was a holiday until I went for a walk on Eatonville's Bud Blancher Trail. You see, the First Day of Skunk Cabbage falls under the category of "moveable feasts," annual events which do not occur on the same day every year. It follows no preordained cycle; it simply happens when it happens, and may occur on a different date for you than it does for me. In any case, it is one of the major festivals of my personal calendar, even when it takes me by surprise.

With the Pacific Northwest's exceptionally warm winter, I've been watching for Skunks since late February even though I've never seen them earlier than the second week of March. Usually, they show up between the 14th and 21st in their customary locations. In fact, I haven't seen any in the usual spots yet, only two tucked away beside the trail where a small and rapidly diminishing stream trickles down from Pack Forest. It doesn't matter. Even one is enough to declare the official First Day of Skunk Cabbage can be celebrated!

First Day Of Skunk Cabbage

Day 160: In my personal almanac, the First Day of Skunk Cabbage is one of the most major events of the year. It's a "moveable feast," arriving with an element of surprise when I see the first glimmer of yellow in the roadside bogs.

Y'see, Skunk Cabbage was my mother's favorite flower, and each spring, she would cut a single spathe, place it in a vase and allow its unique odor to permeate the house. There's a reason they call it "Skunk Cabbage," and trust me, one was plenty for my young nose. Later in life, I learned that the roots were edible (if perhaps a little too high in oxalic acid to be good for you in quantity) and in fact, I used to prepare the tuber like zucchini, adding tomatoes and onions for a medley. Perhaps that helped me accustom myself to the odor. While I still regard it as "skunky," it no longer offends my olfactory sensibilities as it once did.

Gustatorial adventures aside, Skunk Cabbage announces spring more surely for me than any field of daffodils or drift of crocuses. Spring, my friends, is truly here!

September Morn

Day 334: Second only to Christmas on my calendar, September Morn is a day of personal celebration. Today we enter the most beautiful season, a time when Nature puts her energies by for winter, like housewives of old at the canning kettle. Ma Nature has on a fog-trimmed apron, and you can see her oven warming in the dawn. Her hair is done up in a kerchief of clouds as she readies for a day of preservation. Now she works her hardest, storing seeds in her root cellar, bedding nuts and fruit in a mulch of leaves to keep them safe against frost; a busy lady, Ma, and make no mistake. She has a family to feed and knows well how to stock the larder. Join me in rejoicing for September Morn!