Meadow plants under snow

It's slow going, walking through new snow. Especially when last summer's flowers keep making me stop. Like walking through an art gallery; stop, stare, go on to the next, repeat...

Queen Anne's lace and grasses in the Oyster Bay meadow.

Yarrow among the logs.

Gumweed (on the right) and yarrow.

The same Queen Anne's lace, from a different angle.

Yarrow with hats

And yet more hatted yarrow.

It's 9° below zero tonight. The snow on the ground is crispy; it crunches underfoot.

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Las hierbas que en verano cubrían la pradera y las dunas de Oyster Bay, ahora en invierno me hacen detenerme para admirarlas contra la nieve virgen.

1. Zanahoria silvestre, Daucus carota. Aquí se conoce como "Encaje de la Reina Ana".
2. Milenrama, Achillea millefolium.
3. Grindelia integrifolia, aquí conocida como hierba goma. Y, a la izquierda, más milenrama.
4. La misma planta de zanahoria silvestre, vista desde otro ángulo.
5. Milenrama con sombreritos de nieve.
6. Y más milenrama.

Esta noche estamos a 9 grados bajo cero. La nieve por encima lleva una capa de hielo, crujiente bajo mis botas.

Smells like fall

A decent camera is a treasure, and the internet is a magnificent medium for passing on the camera's discoveries, but they miss so much! The camera can never capture, nor the internet transmit the greater half of our world of sensation.

No camera can ever capture the aroma of dying cottonwood leaves underfoot, sweet, fresh, and slightly acid.

Nor the damp, spicy, woodsy smell of ripe Douglas-fir cones, still on the tree.

The camera never felt the bite of a chilly, salty breeze on a cheek; its nose and fingertips never tingled in the cold; no flying sea spray scented the air it breathed.

Did it hear the water nibbling at the rocks, the creak of the gulls' wings? Probably not.

The camera never smelled bull kelp drying on the shore.

Nor the blended aromas of salt-preserved wood and dying algae at the high tide line.

The camera never touched the rough, scratchy bark and lichens on an ancient apple tree.

Nor crushed a ripe yarrow seed head in the palm of its hand. It reminded me of an old sunny kitchen, redolent of spices — was that cloves? — and left my hand smelling of my grandmother's strong soap.

Oh, but it did get the spider in its web dangling from the yarrow stalk, which I hadn't seen. There's that.

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Una buena cámara es un verdadero tesoro, y el internet un medio que sirve para comunicar los hallazgos de la cámara, pero ¡hay tanto que se les pasa sin observar! La cámara jamás puede capturar, ni el internet puede transmitir, más de la mitad de lo que llena nuestro mundo.

1. La cámara nunca puede conocer el aroma de las hojas caídas del álamo en nuestro camino, aroma dulce, fresco, algo acídico.
2. Ni el olor de las piñas del abeto de Douglas que todavía cuelgan de las ramas, un olor como de madera vieja, picante.
3. La cámara nunca sintió el mordisco del aire helado en la piel, ni el hormigueo en la punta de la nariz y de los dedos por el frío; nunca respiró aire cargado de espuma de mar. ¿Escuchó cuando las olitas salpicaban las rocas, u oyó el crujido de las alas de las gaviotas? Creo que no.
4. Nunca conoció el olor de las algas "quelpo" que morían sobre las piedras de la playa.
5. Ni las aromas mezcladas de madera curada con sal y algas marinas desintegrándose al nivel más alto de la playa.
6. Nunca tocó la corteza y los líquenes en un viejo manzano; nunca se dió cuenta de su aspereza.
7. Ni jamás machacó en la palma de su mano la cabeza ya madura de una milenrama. El aroma me recordaba una cocina asoleada, antigua, oliendo a especies como el clavo de olor. Yme dejó en la mano un recuerdo del jabón fuerte de mi abuelita.

Bueno, si capturó el imágen de la arañita en su telaraña, lo que yo no había visto. Eso, hay que reconocerlo.

Flowers within flowers

A new word (to me, anyhow): pseudanthium. "False flower": an inflorescence that resembles a flower. And an inflorescence is a cluster of flowers. Which may be pseudanthia themselves, clusters of smaller flowers. With the true flowers down at the third level.

Confusing?

The pseudanthium or inflorescence of Queen Anne's Lace, Daucus carota.

Ok, not so confusing. We see these everywhere, on parsley, on cow parsnip, angelica, Pacific ninebark, yarrow ... But then, look at the individual "flowers".

Yarrow, Achillea millefolium. This is a pseudanthium.

Each one is actually a cluster of flowers. Two types of flowers. What looks like petals are the ray flowers; on yarrow, there are from 3 to 8. The ray flowers are "imperfect" flowers, with anthers but no stamens. If you look closely, in the ray flower in the centre of the photo, you can see the tiny anther.

The flowers in the centre, the disk flowers, have both male and female parts. And those ever-so-tiny white petals.

 

Ma Nature; the more you look ...

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Encontré otra palabra nueva, nueva para mi, por lo menos: seudantio. Se define como "un grupo de flores pequeñas (una inflorescencia) que parecen ser una flor". Y esas flores pequeñas pueden también ser seudantios. Y por fin, en el tercer nivel, encontramos las verdaderas flores.

Foto #1: Una inflorescencia de Daucus carota, la zanahoria silvestre. Es un seudantio.

Vemos este tipo de seudantio en todas partes: en el perejil, en las angélicas, en la pastinaca de vaca, en la milenrama ... Pero hay que examinar las "flores" individuales; que resultan ser también seudantios.

Foto #2: "Flores" de milenrama, Achillea millefolium.

Cada "flor" es en realidad un grupo de flores, una inflorescencia. Hay dos tipos de flores incluidas. Las que parecen ser pétalos son flores imperfectas, llevando unicamente las partes femeninas, las anteras. No tienen estambres. Si miras la foto, se ve una de las anteras a la base de una de estas flores.

Las flores del centro son flores perfectas; tienen tanto anteras como estambres. Y cada flor tiene 5 pétalos diminutos.

Good thing the moss is dry.

 I'm on my knees a lot these days. It's that time of year; when the ground is covered with sprinkles. White or pink or blue or purple sprinkles; get down to their level and they're flowers. Entire little flowers, some only a few millimetres across.

Small-leaved montia, Montia parvifolia.

The loonie, included to show the size, measures 2.65 cm. across. The flowers are about 7 mm. wide. The leaves, sometimes green, sometimes pink, are thick and spoon-shaped.

Early blue violet, Viola adunca.

Tiny and tinier; Blue-eyed Mary, Collinsia parviflora, and miniature daisy-lookalikes, with 5 double petals.

Yarrow, Achillea millefolium. The clustered flowers aren't open yet.

I couldn't identify this. A sedge (sedges have edges, goes the mnemonic; look at the stem), but very small.

A giant among all those tinies. Wild strawberry, with ant.

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Estoy de rodillas a cada rato en estos dias. Es la temporada; cuando el suelo está salpicado de "sprinkles" (chispas de confitería). Chispitas color de rosa, blancas, azules, hasta moradas; agáchate a su nivel y ves que son flores. Florecitas que pueden medir apenas unos milímetros.

1. Montia parvifolia. La moneda, un dólar Canadiense, mide 2.65 cm. de diámetro, haciendo que las flores miden alrededor de 7 mm. Las hojas características son gruesas, y tienen la forma  de una cuchara.
2. Violetas azules, Viola adunca.
3. Más pequeñas aun; las flores azules, Collinsia parviflora, las llamamos María de los ojos azules. Las otras se parecen a una margarita miniatura; tienen 5 pétalos dobles.
4. Milenrama o perejil bravío, Achillea millefolium. Las múltiples flores blancas todavía no se abren.
5. No pude identificar éste, aparte de que es una especie de Carex. Se distinguen porque los tallos tienen forma algo rectangular.
6. Entre todas esas flores, esta es un gigante; una fresa salvaje. Con su hormiga.

Brown yarrow

In the summer, the white flowers of yarrow brighten the meadow. In winter, they warm it up.

Dried yarrow heads, Achillea millefolium

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En el calor del verano, las flores blancas dan frescura al campo asoleado. En el invierno, las cabecitas de color café recuerdan el calor de verano. Milenrama, Achillea millefolium.

Yarrow, white and pink

Just yarrow flowers. These are around Oyster Bay, in the meadow and in the little woods.

And a bee, of course.

Most of the yarrow around here is white, but there are a few pink ones here and there.

In an open spot in the forest.

In the meadow. With another bee.

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Milenrama, (Achillea millefolium), en el campo y el bosquecito en Oyster Bay, con abejas.

Critters, critters, critters

... collected from here and there, some alive, some recently dead. I'm sorting last month's photos, playing catch up.

Harvestman on a house plant (Kalanchoe tomentosa)

Hover fly on yarrow. I'm not sure of the other beetle with the spots. Tyee Spit.

Twin berries, Lonicera involucrata, with an orange fly. Tyee Spit.

A crane fly who died on my windowsill. Aren't those wings pretty?

Looking at you.

Grasshopper on the Oyster Bay shore. Probably Pallid-winged Grasshopper, Trimerotropis sp. Mostly, they jumped away as soon as my shadow came anywhere near; for this one, I crawled up, inch by inch, down at his level. (No shadow!)

Another Oyster Bay grasshopper, same afternoon, same location. But this one didn't wait around for me. He may be a different species, but I can't identify him, and the Pallid-wings are quite variable.

Recently squashed spider. Just the eyes and mustache. One of the mesh web weavers, by the eye arrangement. (See BugGuide)

Water shots next, I think.

Big leaves, small leaves

Mini-buds and feathery leaves:

Yarrow, still closed, still fuzzy.

And big leaves, big flowers:

I don't know what this is. A sunflower but only knee-high. With a busy bee.

In the Oyster Bay meadow.

A thousand leaves, a thousand uses

Yarrow, still blooming, between rainstorms:

Achillea millefolium; aka Thousand-leaved clover, Angel Flower, Squirrel Tail, etc.

My guide, Plants of Coastal BC, has the usual brief description, then a long section on the BC First Nations medicinal uses of the plant, broken down by tribal groups. Each one used yarrow for a different purpose: "... as a poultice; ... a sore throat gargle;" for childbirth, to purifiy the blood, for headaches and as an eyewash, for diarrhea and as a bath for invalids. "The Squamish used it to cure measles." Elsewhere, it also repelled mosquitoes and prevented baldness, cured toothache, angina, and flatulence, and drew the venom out of spider bites. And so on and so on ...

My opinion, offered tentatively, is that the plant is so common, so attractive, so pleasantly aromatic, that people everywhere decided it must be good for something. And when they tried it and got better from what ailed them, as people generally do, they attributed it to the yarrow. Either that, or the plant is miraculous, which I doubt.

And it's edible, as well. I found a recipe for pasta with a yarrow dressing, which sounds interesting enough to try some day.

And then, it's just beautiful.

Each "flower" is a cluster of about 5 ray flowers, with the tiny, cream, disk flowers in the centre.

Zooming in. Sometimes the ray flowers are pinkish; these are waxy white.

This specimen found on Tyee Spit.

Happy as kings

“The world is so full of a number of things, I ’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.” (Robert Louis Stevenson)

Funny how you miss things when you think you're paying attention, because there is just too much to see. Laurie and I tramped over this area of Oyster Bay Shoreline Park several times, even stopping to take photos (of the moon in daylight), but hurrying to get across it to the shore. And since I've been living here, I've been back a half-dozen times, seeing everything, I thought. And now I find that I have to go back again to look for a few supposedly obvious details that somehow I didn't notice.

At least wild strawberry is easy to recognize.

Yarrow and wild strawberry.

Yarrow in bloom.

And moss, as long as I don't ask too many questions.

Tiny, hairy moss. Greenish when damp, brown, but still hairy as it dries.

And pickleweed, growing on the sand just beyond the protected plant area.

Pickleweed, aka glasswort, sea asparagus, Salicornia pacifica. Doesn't mind salt water.

Flowering spikes. The miniature flowers are hidden in pits on these spikes.

A closer look.

Caterpillar looking for a bit of salty salad. The leaves are visible (barely) in this photo; they're reduced to scales at the joints of the stems.

Still here.

And if the weather holds. I'll be there tomorrow, looking at berries and smelling leaves.