Closer to home

 And then there are the garden weeds so frustrating, so lovely ...

An old kettle full of them.

Western buttercup, Ranunculus occidentalis, is a native. I have both these, and their cousin, the creeping buttercup, R. repens, infesting my flower beds and pots and the lawn. They're beautiful, and such a cheerful yellow, but they shove everything else out of their way. On my table, the flowers shut down at night, then open wide in the morning sun.

The tiny blue forget-me-nots, Myosotis sp., probably M. laxa, are another native. These were growing in the gravel of my driveway.

And the big leaves and the small lilac bells are common comfrey, Symphytum officinale. These are native to Europe and western Asia, and are on the BC Invasive Species list. I cut these from the garden next door; so far, they haven't spread to my place.

I just discovered that both the huge comfrey and the tiny forget-me-nots are members of the same family, the Boraginaceae, in common parlance the borage or the forget-me-not family. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y no hay que olvidar esas hierbas malas que invaden nuestros jardines, tan frustrantes, tan bellas ...

Foto: Ollita vieja con flores "voluntarias".

Las flores amarillas, Ranunculus occidentalis, o botón de oro occidental, es una planta nativa. Estas y su prima, R. repens, son una plaga que crece en mis macetas y el parterre y entre el césped. Hermosas, y tan alegres, pero cubren todo lo demás. En casa, las flores se cierran de noche, y se abren con los primeros rayos del sol matutino.

Las nomeolvides miniaturas, Myosotis sp., probablemente M. laxa, también son flores nativas. Estas crecían entre la grava de mi entrada.

Y las hojas grandes y sus flores color lila son Symphytum officinale, la consuelda. Esta planta es originaria de Europa y el occidente de Asia, y está incluida en la lista de plantas invasivas de Columbia Británica. Estas las corté del jardín de la vecina; hasta ahora no se han extendido hasta aquí.

Acabo de descubrir que tanto la consuelda, tan grande, y las nomeolvides pequeñitas son miembros de la misma famila, las Boraginaceae, que lleva el nombre común, la familia de las nomeolvides,

Nests full of seeds

It's a "weed" (which essentially means a plant that grows without help from us). We let it grow along roadsides, in untended fields, in vacant lots. It deserves better.*

The flowers are beautiful; white with pink detailing, attracting and sustaining a variety of pollinators. But I love it best when it has gone to seed.

Queen Anne's lace, Daucus carota, flowers and seed "nests" among grasses beside the shore.

The seed head turns in on itself, forming a bird's nest shape.

Underside of a "nest".

Top view.

*We owe it a lot: it's the ancestor to our common garden carrot, which still shares the same species name, Daucus carota. And it's also edible, flowers, leaves, seeds, and even the roots while they're still young. (Even the garden carrot will get woody and tough if left too long in the ground.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

La llamamos una hierba mala — que quiere decir, en verdad, una planta cualquiera que crece sin cultivo — y la dejamos crecer al lado de caminos, en campos abandonados, en los espacios vacíos de nuestras ciudades. Pero merece mejor trato.*

Las flores son hermosas, blancas con detalles en color de rosa; atraen y dan sostén a una variedad de insectos polinizadores. Pero me encanta cuando llegan a producir semillas.

Fotos: Zanahoria silvestre, Daucus carota, al lado de la playa, formando sus "nidos de pájaro" característicos.

* Le debemos mucho. Es la forma ancestral de nuestras zanahorias de jardín, las cuales siguen usando el mismo nombre de especie, Daucus carota. Y sigue siendo comestible, tanto las flores como las hojas, las semillas, y hasta las raices, mientras son nuevas. Y nuestra zanahoria, la que cultivamos en el jardín, se hace dura y leñosa si la dejamos demasiado tiempo en el suelo.

Not quite silhouettes

Fog isolates, showing up shapes I've passed dozens of times without ever seeing them.

Weeds on the rocks

At the boat launch, Stories Beach

Light along the shore

It's been a while since I've been to Tyee Spit, mostly because there's no shade, and this summer has been hot. But suddenly, it's wet and cold; time to go looking for mushrooms. Tyee Spit is a good place for them.

And for watching the light over the water. I walked the shore a couple of hours before sundown, facing the dying light.

Stumps along the shore

Distant loon. The shore plants are broom (grrrr!), Oregon grape, and blackberry.

Just grass

More shore "weeds"

Turning to face away from the light. The tail end of the Spit from a new viewing platform. Grey weather, but it's not raining, for now.

Today's spider for Arachtober is a pensive jumper.

Green fangs!

#Arachtober

Promises

These made me kneel in the mud on a Tyee Spit path.

Down in the dead grasses and stalks of winter, two pale umbrella mushrooms, and the first leaves of summer's weed crop: yarrow, draba, grass, and what is that cute 9-lobed one? One of the buttercups, maybe?
 

Two more mushrooms, grass, 9-lobes, and purple-fringed dead-nettle.

Pink and blue

After a grey day, driving back and forth on the back end of town, running routine errands, I needed some colour. Leftover snow, scraped into heaps, oozing into mud puddles, covered by splattered street grunge, makes everything look so dreary!

So I turned to these forgotten photos from the summer of 2013: favourite flowers I hope never to find in my garden.

American brooklime. Grows in the mud, in ditches and along creeks. About 2 inches tall.

Hardhack, Spiraea douglasii. Another wetlands plant. Will form tall, dense thickets, will take over all available wet ground. Hard to hack down. Or through.

Ah. That's better.

Wild geranium

Along the railroad tracks below the White Rock cliffs, railway crews have been at work, stripping out vegetation, churning the soil, dumping gravel. But some plants are never discouraged.

Geranium robertianum, with a sprig of trailing blackberry leaves.

Herb Robert.  Also known as Stinky Bob,  Red Robin, Death comes quickly, Storksbill, Dove's Foot, Crow's Foot, Dragonsblood, Bloodwort. And also, by gardeners, "That horrible weed." It grows anywhere, rapidly, and re-seeds itself enthusiastically, crowding out or completely smothering everything else. Luckily, the roots are shallow, and it is easily torn up. It always comes back, though.

Before I found its "real" name, I used to call it Stinky Geranium. It is one of the geraniums, and it does have a pungent odour, especially noticeable when you're ripping out armloads from your tidy landscaping.

The flowers are small, but their pink colour has a special carrying quality, so that they can be seen from a distance, even in shadowy undergrowth. The leaves turn red in dry conditions; on a wet bank, or in your lettuce plot, they're all green.

I wonder, though, where it got the name, "Death comes quickly." Nothing kills it.

Off the beaten track

I spent much of today on the road, hurrying along freeways and up city streets, racing the clock. On the way home, I was feeling very sleepy, and on the spur of the moment, took an unfamiliar exit off the highway, and then, to get out of the way of trucks, dodged down a dead-end street, going south towards the river.

A quick walk in the cold without my coat woke me up. And my little old camera was in my purse (and the battery was charged - oh, joy!). I wandered about snapping photos of everything and nothing until my fingers went numb, then got back in the car and came home.

I liked these 4 photos.

Above a ditch full of blackberry canes, these dead fireweed stalks reach for the sky.

At the dead end of the dead end, a rough trail led to this fence, and to one of the tugboats that ply the river, in for repairs. The trees are on the bank of the river.

Frozen roses, crispy and shrunken, but still pink.

I'm back on the road home, waiting for the light at my turnoff, and looking at the back side of  Burns Bog. I love this view in winter; in the summer the skeletons of the trees are hidden behind a green blanket.

On the road again tomorrow. I hope the weather holds.

Messy!

Life is messy. Sometimes, in some places, the mess is hidden. It's underwater, or too small to see, or too big, too far away. And sometimes, it's everywhere you look.

Reifel Island is a good place to find it.

Tree, without the leaves to disguise the disorderly branches.

Unidentified plant, gone to seed, half fallen over the bank. The purple flowers are purple nightshade.

Mallard, daisies, and pond scum.

Bee on thistle, with pollen dust, and a tangle of assorted plants as background.

Windborne seed, on goldenrod. With assorted flies and ants, all tied together with spider webs.

Ripening crabapples, with spotty, dying leaves. And spider web, of course.

Blackberries, green, red, spotty, black, and purple. With dead flowers. And spider webs.

More pond scum, rotting weeds, and a neat little brown sparrow.

Busy bee on thistle, skipper waiting his turn, and more spider webs.

Black-crowned night heron, in his favourite spot. 

I'm sure there were spider webs around the heron, too.

Inside, Outside

The Secret Garden, Batch Three.

There's more to this garden than pretty flowers!

Small pink flowers, unidentified, and a greenish fly.

Beach Grove, the small community at the southeast corner of the Tsawwassen peninsula, is criss-crossed by narrow walking lanes, connecting the inner streets to the beach. In one of these lanes, the easement behind his house, Brian Whitehouse planted a few flowers 14 years ago, replacing the invasive blackberries and horsetails that so quickly overpower any forgotten spot in the Lower Mainland.

Map of Boundary Bay. (Google maps base) The Secret Garden is under that line pointing into Beach Grove.

Gardening never stops. A year later, in the evening of September 11, 2001, he found forgetfulness and calm working in his little flower plot; after that, he began to expand the garden, to give others a place to find that same peace.

Whitehouse says there was no real plan. Over the years he just kept clearing away more brush and blackberries, and planting more plants and flowers, creating a meandering garden with landscaping materials that he's scavenged or had donated. (Delta Optimist)

These days, down the centre of the lane, a curving, well-manicured lawn serves as walkway; on both sides rocks, trees, benches, a wishing well and a sundial (in the shade!) serve as backdrops and support for the plantings. Ferns, hostas and rhododendrons soften the fence on the shady side; sun-loving vines and tall flowers line the north wall.

A bird cage full of moss and roots. I thought it was for birds making nests, but there's also a tiny plant just sprouting in the centre.

A vintage wood stove, with a lidless coffee pot, a bit on the leaky side. Last year, it held a mass of pink flowers.

(The stove is a McClary "Kitchen Heater". Years ago, up North, I cooked on one, but it was twice the size and a boring black.)

The garden is fenced, at the back to separate a working and tool storage area from the public garden, and at the front, with a solid board fence and gate, to limit access overnight. But there's something in the air, or in the soil more likely, that extends the happy influence of the care lavished inside well beyond the gate. The beginning of the lane, cleansed of its blackberry canes, but otherwise untended, is a thriving, supremely healthy, knee-deep patch of a large variety of weeds.

Horsetails, grass, plantains, Dove-foot geraniums (pink with 5 double petals) and Common Storks' Bill (pink with 5 single petals).

We couldn't identify this. Laurie mentioned asparagus, but the branching is wrong. The tallest one was about 2 feet high.

Dandelions gone to seed, buttercups, clover, horsetails and grass.

Maybe that front fence is more to keep the dandelions out than to prevent vandalism.

Warm fuzzies

Bee and flowers in the sunshine.

Moving to the next stem up . . .

I can't identify this plant. Can you? Is it a weed, or a garden escapee?

Hitchhiker

"Ride wanted. Destination: anywhere. Your yard would be a good spot. Take me home, please?"

Common (too common) or greater burdock. Arctium lappa.

This plant is growing by the lane to the beach in Crescent Beach, reaching out to passers-by. The hooked head contains the seeds for the next generation. It can grow up to 9 feet high, and in a fertile garden will take over the entire area, where it will stay in spite of all your efforts to eradicate it.

Take a look at those hooks!

Tough, sharp, and extremely persistent.

It has its uses; the root is edible, and goes by the name of gobo. Like its relative, the cardoon, it has purple, thistle-like flowers; the young stems taste like artichoke.

And what would modern life be without Velcro?

After taking his dog for a walk one day in the early 1940s, George de Mestral, a Swiss inventor, became curious about the seeds of the burdock plant that had attached themselves to his clothes and to the dog's fur. Under a microscope, he looked closely at the hook system that the seeds use to hitchhike on passing animals aiding seed dispersal, and he realised that the same approach could be used to join other things together. The result of his studies was Velcro. (Wikipedia)

But don't give it that ride!

Beautiful invader

Along the trails in the Watershed Park forest, where a bit of sunshine sometimes reaches the forest floor, Herb Robert gets a toehold.

"Stinky Bob", as it is known south of the border, in the US. Flowers and seed capsules.

Given time and opportunity, it will take over the area, evicting the evergreen ferns and mosses, discouraging the mushrooms that thrive in the moist dimness, leaving a tangled mass of red-brown stems by midsummer.

I found one good thing about Herb Robert.

Freshly picked leaves have an odor resembling burning tires when crushed, and if they are rubbed on the body the smell is said to repel mosquitoes. (Wikipedia)

Very well, but it doesn't make up for the loss of the greens.

White-petalled charmer

Just a miniature weed, one we pass, step on, step over, mow, without even noticing most of the time.

Common chickweed

The flowers seem to have 10 petals, but looking closely, there are really only 5, each one split down the middle to the base. Each pair looks like white bunny ears.

And something I'd never noticed before -- how blind we are to the everyday wonders! --; look at the long grass blades. They're really hairy!

Willowherb

Weeds will find a way ...

Along the boardwalk at the New Westminster Quay busy gardeners tend to an ever-changing display of exotic and familiar plants, from palm and banana trees to black pansies and umpteen varieties of succulents. All well weeded, of course.

So this pretty willowherb is growing on the far edge of the walk, under the railings. They forgot to weed there.

And we're off to catch a ferry early in the morning. So I'll say goodnight.

When it rains ...

... we go to Mud Bay. Sometimes, anyway; we can't spend every second day there. (Will summer never come?)

Here's Mud Bay in the rain:

Northern shore of Mud Bay at high tide, looking west towards Tsawwassen.

The weeds love the rain. Unidentified brassica.

The muddy shore, now bright with grasses and alfalfa. And a red, red dock.

I had never seen dock this red before.

"Dock ... produces 3,000 to 4,000 seeds per plant" (BC Gov. site)

There are 4 different saltmarsh plants here. The only one I can identify is the pickleweed (Salicornia virginica) on the far left.

Update: the tall stems of green flowers (pale yellow when mature) are sea arrow grass, Triglochin maritima. The tan flower heads in back are sea plantain, Plantago maritima ssp. juncoides. The salt-tolerant grass is still unidentified.

Detail of the flowering stems.

This pretty little moth sat for a brief moment on a tansy leaf.

Wet railroad tracks with starlings on a rail and on the fence. In the distance, three eagles perch on a pair of snags.

I love the way the mist separates and outlines each layer of trees. In the foreground, a rotting old fence that I always call "the teeth".

Red barn far across the fields beyond both branches of the Serpentine River, looking as if it were just a stone's throw away.

The rain stopped. At least here; it looks like it's still raining over in Tsawwassen. 

Looking east and south, the water is blue; looking west towards the hidden sun, it takes on a purple sheen.

Before we left, I picked a big handful of new, tender lambs' quarters. At home, I stir-fried them with onion for supper. Delicious!