Purple Smiles

Garden rails, fence posts, sidewalks - even the tops and hoods of cars - sport bluish purple splashes. Judging by this evidence that seems to be everywhere, I’m not the only one who loves them. In late summer and early fall, woods and fields are bursting with ripening Blackberries, Red and Evergreen Huckleberries, Salal berries and Oregon Grapes. Many birds and other creatures become gluttonous, stuffing themselves with the bounty and wantonly dropping their “calling cards” wherever they happen to be.

I, too, venture after berries and am no less a glutton. Earlier, when bright orange Salmonberries and small Red Huckleberries first show their colors, I snatch one or two in passing. Their colors are brilliant and, although they taste quite tart raw, they both make excellent jam, jelly, or pancake toppings. One year I had the time and inclination to make Red Huckleberry jam. Finding no recipe, I experimented and invented one. The result was quite tasty, much like Lingonberries or Cranberries.

Later on, as Salal berries ripen, I enjoy picking a few and gently squeezing a plump one in my fingers to watch the 5-pointed “star” pop out from the blossom end. Early Native Americans made much use of these mild-flavored berries, but they seem to have fallen out of favor. They taste a bit like huckleberries with a hint of fir needles, but are less juicy. I’ve not yet used any, but recently found recipes for two Salal jellies, one made with tart apple juice and one with Oregon Grapes.

Oregon Grapes are edible? Apparently so, although their sourness is so intense that few animals feel the urge to make a meal of them. Still, with their tempting purplish blue color, I bet they make a lovely-looking jelly. Takes a lot of sugar, though! We have a few small plants that were loaded with berries this year, so I’ve picked, cleaned and frozen them for possible future use.

The Evergreen Huckleberries are also loaded, so I’ve been picking those. Small, round, and shiny black, they are tedious to pick, but are quite edible. Unless fully ripe they can be a little sour raw, but they make excellent jam or jelly and you can just substitute them in any blueberry recipe. My favorite is apple-huckleberry pie!

And who could forget the Blackberries, which seem to take over the roadsides and out-produce themselves year after year? Indeed, the plants are a royal pain, but at this time of year all is forgiven as they show up in wonderful pies, cobblers, crisps, syrups, jams and jellies. I think they are best popped right into the mouth fresh off the cane, or sprinkled onto morning cereal. Picking them is fairly easy, if you can be satisfied with those closest to you. Have you ever noticed, though, that the biggest, plumpest, and ripest berries are always just a little deeper into the thicket? And after you’ve fought your way in to get those, there are always a few better ones just a little deeper still? No matter how often I tell myself that those few more berries don’t matter, I still am lured into the thicket where the berry plants wreak their revenge with tripping branches and ripping thorns. Tattered and torn, I always emerge with a smile - even if it is a bluish purple one!

All man’s efforts are for his mouth,

yet his appetite is never satisfied.

Ecclesiastes 6:7

Silent Spinner

In your web of silken thread,
Silently you wait
White and brown, all straddled down
With jointed legs of eight

Warmed with sunshine, active now
Quite still when bathed in rain
In your web of silken thread
You stealthily remain

Stretched so tight with all your might
It suddenly appears
First tacked there with gentle care
Amid the dewdrop tears

Then pulled here and fastened,
Now a strand pulled down
Stretched so tight with all your might
Then woven 'round and 'round

You lurk there with silent air
Ever out of sight.
Through the heat you hold your seat
Into the dark of night.

Watchful, ever watchful,
Constantly on guard
You lurk there with silent air
Hidden in my yard

When repairs demand your cares
Then you venture out
Tightrope walk, you never balk
Though difficult the route

Wind may do its damage
Storm will take its toll
When repairs demand your cares
You patch each gaping hole

'Tis your fate to sit and wait
Patient, so it seems
If I could, I maybe would
Peer into your dreams

Often in the corner,
Sometimes in the eye,
'Tis your fate to sit and wait,
In your web so high

Feel the tug and now a bug
Tangled in your thread,
Struggles in vain and feels the pain
Numbed, it's filled with dread.

Quickly you surround it
Wrapping with your line
Feel the tug and now the bug
Hungry, you will dine

Webmasters

“They’re ev’rywhere! They’re ev’rywhere!” In what seems an appropriate time and place, I love to ramble off this line, in high-pitched, cartoon-character voice. As my husband remembers, sometime, someplace we lived had a TV commercial with a “Chicken Man” who was “...ev’rywhere, ev’rywhere!” His memory for such things is far better than mine. I only remember the line and the many times I’ve used it.

At this time of year, they are ev’rywhere. In the corners of doors, windows, across walkways, between trees and bushes. One small one is right up against our bedroom window; a huge one straddles an evergreen outside our bathroom. You can clear them away and one afternoon (or one hour!) later they’re back.

In early spring, hoards of tiny hatchlings appear. We leave most of them be, knowing the good they ultimately do and their place in the greater scheme of things. Some, however, we cannot abide - those who always take over the mail box, set up camp in my husband’s workshop, rally round the back door. In those cases, it’s all-out warfare: them against us. No contest - there’s always more of “them” than “us”.

Think of it - there are kazillions out there! Birds and insects feast and a few furry critters munch on them. Those who escape lie in wait, silently and meticulously weaving their webs. At Family Camp this summer we took the kids on a “Haunted Hike” into the woods, dusting with cornstarch to reveal a great many webs. We marveled at the “high-rises” of web upon web upon web up into the trees - many of a unique domed shape.

Gluing down one end of a silken strand, they crawl, rappel, or float on the breeze to an often distant site - spinning from their own body as they go - to firmly attach the other end. Other supporting strands are tacked down to twigs, leaves or what-have-you. First, a framework of scaffolding upon which to work. Then, the interweaving of connecting lines - one delicate strand at a time. When complete it is an intricate work of art, especially enchanting when sparkling with morning dew or fresh drops of rain.

It is, however beautiful, a trap - craftily set and vigilantly guarded. Touch it gently and you will find it sticky. I have tried to fool the spinner this way, gently tapping the web to imitate a struggling insect, to no avail. I’ve tossed in a small piece of leaf for the same reason with similar results. The one-who-lurks is not so easily fooled. My husband just tosses in small bugs. Instantly knowing the difference, it waits only long enough to be sure the bug is caught, that its struggling against the surprisingly strong, sticky strands has entrapped its legs and wings. It then hurries to paralyze, but not kill, the victim; wrapping it round ‘n round “mummy fashion” in webbing to save for a future meal. It sounds cruel, but it is the way of the spider - the only way it knows.

The spider’s occupation is “Webmaster” and she does it well. The future of her kind depends on it - she must have insect protein to produce her eggs. Routinely, she checks her web. If it is damaged, she repairs it - over and over again. If it is destroyed she will often eat it (ultimate recycling?), spinning another as many times as she needs to. Each week I descend the hill to change the message on a reader board. Without fail, I find webs attached to the sign that I cannot help but destroy as I open it. Week after week they are back in the same place - it is not easy to discourage a spider!

Oh, that I might be as diligent in my life’s work...

God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them We want each of you to show this same diligence to the very end, in order to make your hope sure. We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised.

Hebrews 6:10-12

Circus Admission: Sunflower Seeds

The race was on - you could hear the bark flying. Up, down, ‘round and ‘round the tree, across the grass lickety-split. Then up another tree, across the branches to another, down, up ‘round and ‘round. They scrambled along the ground, right under the rake, nearly knocking it over and right across the toes of my shoes - with me in them! Then up the tree again, with one finally settling into the swinging box feeder, one in the pole feeder, and one on a nearby branch trilling away. I laughed ‘til I doubled over and cried. Our backyard has become a 3 ring circus. Admission: sunflower seeds.

When we first moved here 30 years ago, we didn’t have many - at least not on our property. We would catch an occasional glimpse of one racing across the road as we drove. One large Doug fir on the corner of our pasture collected a big pile of cone scales near its base, so we knew at least 1 or 2 were busy there. But mostly, they remained a rare sight for us.

Things have changed over the years. To eliminate some of our grass, we planted ground covers and native shrubs; trees that were small now tower above us. More houses (and fewer trees) fill our neighborhood and we no longer have a dog. Thistle and sunflower seeds replaced wild bird seed mix .

They cause us no problems, so to speak. There is the thump, thump, thump as green fir cones come tumbling down and gnawed-off scales do pile up beneath certain trees. There is the chattering, trilling, squeaking and nattering that can be incessant, but I have learned to talk back to them - not that they pay me any mind. Near the end of one summer a few years ago one did get rather bold and was seen exploring our side porch frequently. I had a funny feeling about that one, which was confirmed when I discovered several holes chewed in the cushion on one chair. Reading up, I discovered they have young in June and October, so suspected nest-building. Fall brought the appearance of 3 lively young, so all was forgiven. Another year about the same time, the tablecloth on the picnic table was nibbled all along the edges, so I guess those nurseries must be carefully equipped also...

This could be called the “Year of the Squirrel” for it has certainly yielded a bumper crop. The 3 young Chickarees (or Douglas squirrels) that have graced “our” territory this summer have certainly kept us entertained. In early August, 3 more small ones appeared, and we wonder what part we have played in this increase.

We have stopped filling the most easily-accessible feeders for now. Bickering has increased, and it will be interesting to see who runs off who as territories are re-established. We’ve noticed the Sharp-Shinned Hawk cruises through more frequently.

One change always leads to another, and we sometimes forget that all life is indeed interconnected...

When goods increase, they increase who eat them; and what gain has their owner but to see them with his eyes?
Ecclesiastes 5:11

Snoopy Running Free

Miki and Snoopy - Colorado 1969

I called and called, clapping my hands loudly, trying to quell my rising fear and anger - fear that Miki would be lost forever; anger that Snoopy had, once more, led him astray.

Miki and Snoopy - penned up

Snoopy was a medium-sized dog of dubious lineage. With gray and black short hair and built like a small tank, he arrived on the doorstep of our rural Colorado home not long after we’d moved in. He quickly made himself at home and became fast friends with Miki, our 7 month old Sheltie.

A pet of our home’s previous owners, who moved out of state and could or would not take him, he had been given to friends who lived several miles away. The problem was, Snoopy only knew one home - and it was now ours. His new owners guessed where he was and retrieved him, but over the course of months, Snoopy returned “home” time after time. Finally, his new owners said he was ours.

We did not want him, but decided to keep him until we could find him a new home. He was a friendly dog, with a happy-go-lucky personality. We soon discovered, however, that Snoopy had some less-than-desirable traits. He was filthy and smelled bad, but turned nasty at any effort to bathe him. He was extremely stubborn, blatantly not housebroken, refused all training. Although he lived at our house, ate and slept there, I suspect he had never really been “owned” by anyone - any effort to contain him failed. When he escaped and roamed the hills, Miki went with him.

Backyard laundry

So here they both came, happily loping through the pines - dragging pieces of someone’s damp laundry behind them. Horrified, I scolded them both soundly and put them back in their pen, pondering what to do next. Obviously someone was missing laundry, but I had no idea who or where they lived. Perhaps they did not yet even know it was missing, so I could easily ignore the theft - plead ignorance and never be found out. But somehow, that just didn’t feel right.

Swallowing my anger - and pride - I strolled through the woods in the direction from which the dogs had come. Before long, a tidy little home appeared among the trees; fresh laundry hung on a clothesline in the yard. Hesitantly tapping on the door, I blurted out the tale of the wayward dogs to the woman who answered. Rosemary invited me in, offered refreshment, and became my first neighborhood friend there.

Snoopy - always led the pack

She and her family proved to be good neighbors during the four years we lived there. They watched our house, collected our mail and paper when we were gone; their teenage boys cared for Miki and the next puppy we got. She and her husband were older than we were, but we exchanged dinners several times, helped each other through the Colorado snowstorms. We’ve kept in touch, still exchanging Christmas cards and letters these many years later.

And Snoopy? Neither of us can remember exactly what became of him. My husband thinks we found him a new owner; I picture him running away one last time, alone. But I will never forget him, and the wonderful neighbors his errant ways led me to.

Snoopy running free

I truly hope that he’s still wandering free - wherever free-spirited dogs go...

Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to his neighbor, for we are all members of one body. “In your anger do not sin”. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.
Ephesians 4: 25-27

The Sea Above Us

Standing in awe, we were mesmerized by what lay before us. The distant, western edge of the Canadian Rockies rose tall, rugged, barren of trees, and - true to their name - rocky. Below, lesser hills blanketed with deep green velvet forests. Lower still, the rich aquamarine reflection of both in a mirror image spread across a crystal clear, glass-smooth body of water appropriately called Emerald Lake. In the still, crisp, early autumn morning, the silence was truly deafening. Except for one or two early walkers, we were the only ones there, which made the experience all the more memorable.

At the small picnic area along the shore, we paused to read about the site, then squinted through a telescope at the distant spot along a rocky ridge, 1,700 feet above. It was there in the early 1900s that Charles Walcott, third director of the United States Geological Survey, and later, head of the Smithsonian Institution, made a phenomenal discovery.

          Mark A. Wilson

Millions of soft-bodied sea creatures, most never before seen, were forever preserved as fossils in what is now known as the Burgess Shale formation. Walcott spent every summer from 1907 to 1925 in the Rockies, mapping the thick Cambrian formations clear to Banff. Although he shipped his fossils - 65,000 specimens on 30,000 slabs - back to the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC, his duties there prevented him from studying them in much detail. He did describe most in notes & photographs, but all of this lay in drawers for nearly 50 years, until a modern generation of researchers dusted them off and set to work, beginning in 1973.                                                                  Smith609
                                                                                              

Millions of years ago a calm, shallow sea existed along the edge of a huge, rocky escarpment there. With constant erosion, fine clay mud settled through the water slowly but continuously, gradually building up layers of sediment on the sea floor. Within this nutrient-rich area, a myriad of small, bizarre sea creatures flourished until, around 500 million years ago, they somehow met their demise. Scientists believe that they were buried very quickly and close to where they lived by sudden mudflows, which allowed for very slow decomposition and near-perfect preservation of their forms. On some, they can even discern internal organs and what they ate the day they died!

Keith Schengili-Roberts

What amazes me is the sheer number and diversity of the species found - 170 so far. Ranging from 1 to 12 inches long, many of these ancient creatures had segmented bodies and jointed legs, resembling today’s shrimp or crab. Some looked like weird worms, slugs, or squid. And trilobites, lots and lots of different trilobites. One thing is sure - none of those creatures live on earth today.

Nobu Tamura

Over time, earth has changed significantly and continues to do so today. There is much discussion and controversy over what, exactly, causes these changes. Humans do impact the environment, but as far as we know, none of our kind was around back when the Burgess Shale creatures disappeared in what is now Yoho National Park. Rocks tell us much - but they don’t tell all.

Scorpio 451

And God said, “let the waters teem with living creatures...” So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living and moving thing with which the water teems, according to their kinds... And God saw that it was good. God blessed them and said, “Be fruitful and increase in number and fill the water in the seas...”      Genesis 1:20-22

For more on the Burgess Shale Formations:

http://www.burgess-shale.bc.ca/discover-burgess-shale

Fossil picture files from Wikimedia Commons

Fungus Among Us

“Do you think we’re nuts for doing this?” I asked my husband as we slowly wound our way uphill through the forest. A short time ago we’d left a little town in British Columbia to find the Cedar Grove Trail, where a rare group of ancient old-growth cedars grew. Rare, that is, for that far inland. Living in Washington, we’d seen ancient cedars before, of course, but these were billed as being spectacular. Besides, we were a bit road-weary and ready for a good hike. The trail was not supposed to be very far; I read the directions carefully – several kilometers out on a paved road, then so many more on an unpaved forest service road, look for certain signs along the way, and so on…

We did find the correct roads and luckily had taken the truck on this trip, as the forest service road was definitely unimproved - really just a narrow track scraped out of the thick woods, full of large rocks, holes and drainage channels. At the final sign (still pointing upward) the road continued to narrow until it was merely a trail itself. Then, the promised wide spot to turn around, and we’d arrived.

Completely alone in this strange territory, I thought we might be nuts. But no, the experience was totally worth it. The sunlight finally breaking through to cast its filtered light among those giants and flicker through the thick understory of ferns and Devil’s Club was icing on the cake. Walking the trail through the grove, my eyes fell upon group after group of large snow-white mushrooms. We had never seen this kind before, but remembered seeing several “mushroom station” signs at area homes, so picking must be popular there. We settled for photographs.

When it comes to mushrooms and other fungi, one needs to be aware. "At ease disease, there's a fungus among us." is an old saying and it is true that some fungi need to be avoided. There are lethal mushrooms as well as toxic molds that have caused serious health problems for those living in houses containing them. Many other fungi are highly beneficial and nutritious – it’s importance to know the difference.

Because fungi contain no chlorophyll, they are unable to make their own food as other plants do. Living off of other (usually dead) organic things, they need moisture but little, if any, light. During the fall, with increased moisture and decreased daylight hours, our local woods and meadows teem with fungi. Most of the ones I see have been nibbled by mice, squirrels, and other creatures that seem to know which are safe to eat. Humans who also know can harvest tasty Morels, Chanterelles, and other treasures. We are not fortunate enough to know which are safe, so pick none, with the exception of one year when Lou taught us how to identify Boletus. This type of mushroom grows all over our back pasture area so we did not have to look far. I cooked them up but cannot say we were particularly fond of them, so have not eaten them since.

 

I do love the taste of most mushrooms, but especially enjoy studying and photographing the fungi found growing in our cool, damp corner of the world. Wandering the woods, keep your eyes on the ground to discover a myriad of exotic and bizarre shapes, colors, and sizes. Some, like the minute Birds’ Nest fungus, look like they belong in a child’s fairytale book; others resemble giant ogres. Don’t forget to look on rotting logs and then raise your eyes – beautiful giant orange shelf fungi are sometimes seen high on dead or dying trees. There’s a whole other world out there, so take note – they’re definitely among us.

He bestows rain

on the earth;

he sends water

upon the countryside.

The lowly

he sets on high,

and those who mourn

are lifted to safety.

Job 5:10-11