End of summer at the beaver pond

We had a good rain yesterday (Yay!) and today has been cool and damp. Currently we're at 17° C and going down. It feels good.

I've spent these two days processing photos from the beaver pond and trying to identify a bunch of plants and one spider, with varied results. Some plants are easy; an image search, a look through a couple of guide books, searching iNaturalist and other plant websites, and there it is. Others, not so much. Is it this, or that? Do the leaves have spots? What shape are the stems? Squint at my photos, examine a sample I brought home, search some more.  When I read, "this species often hybridizes," I give up.  For now.

So I have a bunch of photos for today, and another half dozen on hold until I go out and look at the same plants again at the pond. Tomorrow, weather permitting.

It's an interesting time of year; the flowers are mostly done, leaves are stained and dropping, everything is going to seed. The bees seem to have gone into hiding; here at the pond, there are dragonflies everywhere, red, blue, brown, huge and tiny, all flying constantly, fattening up for a final mating and egg-laying before the winter.

Today's photos; the computer chose the arrangement. Good enough.

Dry seed heads of an unidentified rush, Juncus sp.

Cattails, Typha latifolia.

The last of the hardhack flowers; the rest are all brown seedheads now. Spiraea douglasii.

Heal-all, Prunella vulgaris. Aka self-heal.

The beaver lodge. This year a thicket of hardhack has grown on top. Good camouflage, maybe a good protection against winter weather.

Marsh cinquefoil again, a clearer photo. Potentilla palustris.

And again, because I liked the shadows.

Red-osier dogwood, Cornus stolonifera. With a bonus ladybug.

One of the large, blue dragonflies, caught in flight.

This was strange. A tiny plant, almost a seedling, got started too late to make more than one flower, one seed pod. St. John's wort, says iNaturalist.

Very stiff, sharp-edged leaves. So far, I think it's a sedge, Carex sp.

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Ayer llovió, y fuerte (¡Qué bien!) y hoy estuvo nublado y húmedo. Estamos en el momento a 17°, y la temperatura sigue bajando. Me gustan estas condiciones.

He pasado estos dos dias procesando fotos que saqué en la laguna de los castores, y trantando de identificar un montón de plantas (y una araña), con resultados variables. Algunas plantas se identifican facilmente; una búsqueda de imágenes, un repaso de mis libros guía, de iNaturalist y otros sitios web, y allí está. Otras plantas no son tan fáciles. ¿Es esta? ¿O esa?  ¿Hay puntos amarillos en las hojas? ¿Qué  forma tienen los tallos? Veo mis fotos a tamaño grande, examino una muestra que traje a casa, vuelvo a buscar en el internet. Cuando leo, "esta especie frecuentemente se hibridiza," me rindo. Por ahora.

Así que tengo casi una docena de fotos para subir hoy, y otra media docena esperando hasta que pueda ir a mirar las mismas plantas otra vez. Mañana, si no llueve.

Es una temporada del año muy interesante; las flores se han marchitado, las hojas están manchadas y torcidas, todas las plantas están ocupadas en producir semillas. Pocas abejas se ven ahora, pero aquí en la laguna, hay una multitud de libélulas, rojas, azules, cafés; gigantes y miniaturas, todas en movimento continuo, alimentándose en preparación para un acoplamiento y la postura final de huevos antes de que llegue el invierno.

1. Las cápsulas con semillas de uno de los tules, Juncus sp.
2. Totoras, Typha latifolia
3. Las últimas flores de Spiraea douglasii. Las demás ya se han vuelto cafés y están esparciendo semillas.
4. Consuelda menor, Prunella vulgaris. Aquí la llamamos "sánalotodo".
5. La madriguera de los castores. Este  año se ha cubierto de un bosquecito de Spiraea douglasii; servirá de camuflaje, o en invierno tal vez como aislante del frio.
6. Potentilla palustris. Una foto mejor que la que subí antes.
7. Y otra vez. Porque me gustaron las sombras.
8. Cornus stolonifera. Con una mariquita (o catarina o cotorrita o sanantonito o ... según donde las encuentras.)
9. Una de las libélulas, en el aire.
10. Esta planta me llamó la atención. Apenas empieza a crecer, y ya se le hizo tarde. No llegó a su tamaño esperado, produjo una sola flor, y ahora lleva una sola cápsula con semillas. Hypericum sp.
11. Una de las juncias, creo. Carex sp. Tiene hojas fuertes, con bordes afilados.

Tengo una mosca para mañana.

Red crowns

Columbines, growing in a ditch with their roots in the water.

Western (Red) Columbine, Aquilegia formosa

"Formosa" is from the Latin, "beautiful". And "Aquilegia" refers to eagles, possibly because of the spikes that look like talons. To me, though, the flower looks more like a crown.

These are one of my favourite flowers, usually found mixed in unobtrusively with other vegetation, always near water.

The red outer part of the flower are the sepals; the petals are the yellow tips of the tubes.

Columbine with hiding critter.

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Estas flores son aquileñas, (Aquilegia formosa). Estaban creciendo en una zanja, con las raices en el agua.

Son una de mis flores favoritas. Crecen cerca del agua, mezcladas con otras plantas, casi escondidas.

El término "formosa" viene del latín, y quiere decir "hermosa". "Aquileña" se llaman porque, según dicen, la parte superior se parece a las garras de una águila. Para mí, en cambio, la flor parece una corona.

Las partes rojas no son pétalos, sino sépalos; los pétalos son las partes amarillas de los tubos. 

Pink, fading to brown

Hardhack is one of my favourite shrubs. It grows profusely along streambanks, in soggy soil, on dripping hillsides, forming dense thickets up to 2 metres tall, crowned in season, with showy pink flower spikes. When picked at the height of bloom, these flowers fade to a dusty rose, and last all winter in a dry vase. With pearly everlasting, they make a beautiful winter bouquet.

Spent blooms, left in place, dry to a warm brown, and last all winter on the plant. The leaves drop, leaving wiry stems and the brown heads.

This year has been too hot and dry for most of the hardhack thickets; I saw very few pink blooms, although they must have flowered, passing quickly from bloom to brown seed head.

I picked two flowering heads that I found within reach; they're well past their sell-by date, and dried to brown seeds overnight.

Hardhack is well named: the much-branched, wiry stems form dense tangles that are almost impossible to break through without proper tools. A wall of salal and hardhack, a common combination in our forests, is as effective a barrier as a brick wall with glass on top.

Horrid!

The area I've been exploring for the past couple of weeks follows the valley of the Oyster River. On the map, it looks simple; empty forest or grassland with a winding blue streak through it. But zooming in, and zooming in further, it gets bluer. Water is everywhere; there's the Little Oyster River, a bunch of creeks and mini-creeks, sloughs, bogs, miniature lakes, pools, and at least one beaver pond. Any little dip in the terrain is full of water.

And where the ground is always wet, I keep seeing stands of Devil's Club, its wide leaves serving as stern "Keep Off" signs. Oplopanax horridus, they call it; it's well named, both in English and scientific notation.

The leaves get up to 15 inches across.

And the plant can be 15 feet tall, or more. This one was a new plant at the edge of a recent clearing, and only about 8 feet high.

The whole plant is covered with vicious spines.

Really vicious. Up to an inch long, very sharp. They break off easily to an incautious touch, sting and fester.

Even the leaves are spined, top and bottom.

"A piece of Devil's club hung over a doorway is said to ward off evil." (Wikipedia)

But you'd need thick gloves and strong boots to harvest that piece safely. I think I'll stick to vanilla leaf.

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.