The colours of summer

Against a background of green, blue, brown, grey; BC's year-round colours.

Beach pea, Lathyrus japonicus, among the logs on the Oyster Bay dunes.

Gumweed, Grindelia integrifolia. It's blooming near the shore everywhere. This one was on Tyee Spit.

The gumweed flowers, according to my guide, are covered with an extremely sticky latex. Actually, the glue goes much farther. I touched the lower stem of this plant, removing an intrusive dead straw, and my fingers got so glued up that they stuck to the camera.

Foxgloves in full sun, Brown's Bay.

Foxgloves in the shade, Elk Falls.

Hardhack, Spiraea douglasii. Likes wet feet, bogs and streams and marshes, but this one was growing on the shore beside a well-watered lawn.

A more modest flower, Silver burweed, with an ambitious name: Ambrosia chamissonis. The flowers are small and greenish, enclosed in their bracts. These are growing just above the high tide line at Oyster Bay.

Black twinberry, Lonicera involucrata. Past the flower stage, but the red bracts remain. Tyee Spit.

Grey, beige and brown. Temporarily.

The rains have stopped, for now, and we've been able to visit the beaches of Boundary Bay several times in the last week or so. It's still winter, though; the wind is sharp and bitter, making my eyes water and my nose run. Each time, we have found the tide dropping, still too high to expose more than a few snails and worm casts. Birds there are a-plenty, all far in the distance, waiting for low tide and feeding time.

After a few minutes at the water's edge, we turned inland, to the dry, grey upper beach, apparently almost bare of life at this time of year.

Driftwood scattered along the upper tide line and across the dunes, interspersed with mats of dried shrubs, sedge, and grass spikes

Artistic arrangement, by Ma Nature, with a bit of help from young humans. Who, after all, are part of the natural world, too.

Dry grass, wind-broken. The roots below are alive and well.

Large-headed sedge, Carex macrocephala, anchoring its patch of sand. It is not dead, but resting; its rhizomes under the sand are waiting for warm weather.

On a rotten log, a bleached half of a clamshell wears a corsage of dried seaweeds.

A worn, twisted driftwood log, with a worried face

Rotting wood, dotted with lichens

Weather-beaten, wrung-out log provides shelter for green mosses and yellow lichen.

Moss and blue-grey leaf lichen.

With the coming of longer days, the spring rains, and a sunny afternoon or two, the dry sand will erupt in greenery; big-headed sedge, groundsel, gumweed, beach pea, sea rocket, and red sorrel; bees and butterflies will dance from flower to tiny flower; grasshoppers will leap away as we approach, abandoned kids' toys will provide accents in primary colours. It won't be long now.

While the sun still shone

It has been raining, desultorily, without enthusiasm; too damp for gardening, too cool for bugs, too grey for photos. Most of my flowers are gone anyhow. Even the begonias and winter pansies are hanging their heads under the weight of rainwater.

It's good, then, that I'm still sorting September photos, full of bright, warm, sunshiny flowers and critters.

Our neighbour's sunflowers.

Banana flower and green fruit. Beach Grove.

Flies and a beetle on goldenrod. Mud Bay Station.

Unidentified seed pods. Possibly peppergrass* (a Mustard). Mud Bay, growing through the  rip-rap.

Gumweed and Cabbage white butterfly. Mud Bay.

Tiny succulent, Beach Grove.

Orange-brown sandhill skipper* on sea rocket. Centennial Beach.

Pickleweed, Salicornia pacifica. The white "spines" are salt crystals. Salicornia gets rid of excess salt by moving it up to the tips of the stems, which turn red and eventually drop off. Mud Bay tide flats. 

Another pickleweed plant. This one is just starting to accumulate salt at the tips.

It's raining harder now. I wonder if it's going to rain all month long, to make up for our warm September.

*Thanks to biobabbler, Katie and Jodi for the IDs. (See discussion in comments.)

Going to seed

Beach pea, Centennial Beach:

These were tiny plants, a hand's width high, hiding in the shelter of a log on the sand dunes. Higher on the shore, where there is some shade and more water, they grow taller.

RGB, in the sunlight.

The beach peas are blooming on White Rock beach!

Elegant veining in the flowers; look at it full size. 

I'm working on a couple (or three, possibly) videos, so blogging will be light for a few days.

Pale Spring Beauty

In April of 2007, we found Pale Montia (aka Pale Spring Beauty) plants on the bare sand between the beach and the houses in Beach Grove. I've been watching for them every year since, with no luck. Until now, 4 years later.

Claytonia exigua, aka Montia exigua aka Montia spathulata

These are tiny succulents; the tallest this year were about 2 inches high. They're translucent, leaves, stems and all, and glow in the sunlight in colours from grey-green to a dusty pink with lime green tints, to a rose pink, to a deep violet, all looking good enough to eat.

Another greyish pink plant, with flowers.

The central "stalks" are basal leaves. The true stems are round, topped with two leaves cupping a clump of white flowers.

Rosy pink.

These look as if they would be a pretty addition to a salad. I wondered if they are edible, so I asked Google.

Yes! The plant is a member of the Portulaca (Purslane) family, of which many are edible and even delicious, and next, of the genus Montia, which includes Miner's lettuce, a good salad vegetable. Other names for Spring Beauty include "Indian lettuce" and sandcress. The leaves can be eaten raw or cooked.

And now that I know that, I don't think I'll be sampling the next one I see. They're too tiny, too rare, and too beautiful to eat.