Balm on a rainy night

 So it rains. And blows. And rains. And storms. And rains some more. And I've caught a cold and don't dare go out and get myself wet and chilled. Last night, in desperation, I went out in the rain and ripped up a couple of plants of lemon balm, which grows wild beside my carport. I filled a vase with wet lemon balm; it even still had a few flowers.

Lemon balm flowers, Melissa oficinalis. From base to tip, 8 mm.

I was hoping to find something alive on the plant, maybe even a spider for Arachtober. And yes, there was a slug.

Tiny slug, 1cm long.

And a bunch of green aphids. This one fell off, but I coaxed her back onto a leaf.

There were no spiders, but a miniature harvestman was hiding behind a leaf.

5mm long, with a stripe down her back.

Heading for a better hiding spot.

Bye!

I got up this morning and checked the vase. Neither the slug nor the harvestman is anywhere to be found. The aphids were still there.

(And now, do I have a tiny slug wandering around my kitchen? Or eating my house plants? When he shows up, he's going out into the rain again.)

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Pues llueve. Y sopla un viento fuerte. Y llueve. Y hay tempestad. Y llueve aun más. Y a mí me ha pegado una gripa y no me atrevo a salir a empaparme con agua fria. Anoche, ya harta de mis cuatro paredes, salí en la lluvia y arranqué unas plantas del toronjil (hoja de limón) que siempre crece cerca de la puerta.

Llené un frasco con ramas del toronjil. Todavía tenía unas cuantas flores.

Fotos:

1. La flor de toronjil. De la base al punto de los pétalos mide 8 mm.
2. Una babosa chiquitita, de un cm. de largo.
3. Un áfido verde; había varios. Este se había caído; luego le acerqué una hoja y volvió a subir.
4. Esperaba alguna araña para el grupo de Arachtober, pero en su lugar, hallé este opilón escondido tras una hoja. Mide 5 mm de cola a cabeza. No medí las patas.
5. Aquí se trata de esconder de nuevo.
6. —¡Adiós! — me dice.

Me levanté esta mañana y examiné el toronjil de nuevo. Ni la babosa ni el opilón se pueden ver. Pero siguen allí los áfidos.

(Y ahora, ¿tengo una babosa dando vueltas en mi cocina? ¿O se está comiendo mis plantas caseras? Cuando la encuentro, se irá afuera a la lluvia otra vez.)

Licorice, chocolate, banana. Not edible.

 A rainy evening is the best time to hunt for slugs. Or to find them when you're looking for something else. These turned up on my spider hunt.

The chocolate slug, aka licorice slug, chocolate arion. Arion rufus.

Same slug, hunkered down after I moved a leaf, exposing more of his orange striped fringe.

These slugs are an introduced species. Its colour can vary from yellow-brown to chocolate to black, when it looks identical to the black slug, Arion ater, different only internally. Black slugs, they say, are not present here on the island. So this next slug is probably a chocolate, too.

There's a hint of the orange foot.

Big polypore on ground. With two slugs.

This was taken after dark; the mushroom was just a darker patch on the ground. I didn't see the slugs until I looked at the photo. The one on the left is another chocolate slug; on the right there's a banana slug, Ariolimax columbianus.

I don't know why these slugs are named after food. Appetizing, right?

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Una tarde con lluvia es el mejor momento para buscar babosas. O para encontrarlas cuando buscas otra cosa. Estas aparecieron durante mi búsqueda de arañas.

La primera es la que llamamos la babosa de chocolate o de anis. Es una babosa importada desde Europa. Puede venir en colores desde amarillo/café a color chocolate, hasta un negro puro. Aquí se le puede notar los bordes del pie, de color anaranjado con rayas negras.

La babosa negra, una especie casi idéntica, por lo menos en cuanto se puede observar sin hacer cirugía, no se halla, dicen, aquí en la isla. Así que esta negra ha de ser una babosa de anís.

En la última foto, tomada después de anochecer, salen dos babosas, comiendo un hongo políporo. La de la izquierda es otra chocolate. A la derecha, una babosa "plátano", nativo y común aquí.

¿Porqé será que les llaman a estos animalitos por comidas, y además por comidas deliciosas? 

Rain lovers

From my computer's weather people:

11:46 PM. 11 degrees Celsius. Tomorrow's high, 13 degrees. Record high over the last 30 years, 12 degrees.

Warmer, then. A tiny bit.

And wetter?

It's raining. It has been raining. It's going to keep on raining. But in the last 30 years, it has rained 25 out of 30 times on this day. Nothing new here.

The cat goes out, comes back in dripping and purring madly. Stands over my keyboard and shakes herself, as a dog does. Raindrops spatter over the screen; I dry it off, wipe muddy footprints off the desk. Chia purrs. She loves this weather.

Slugs love the rain, too. I ventured out to refill the bird feeders (the birds don't seem to mind the wet), and found a baby slug on a rock. I brought him in to see his pretty patterns.

Hunkered down, moaning.

Under the light inside, I discovered that he was covered in racing mites. He didn't look happy about them, either. These mites, if the infestation is heavy enough, can kill a slug.

I took a few photos, then washed him off with chilled, filtered water. The mites ended up on the rock, and I washed them away before they could climb back on board.

"That feels better!"

Immediately, the slug woke up, stretched to his full 2 inches, and set off to explore, obviously happier. I took a few more photos, and carried his rock out to the garden again.

"Bye! And thanks!"