Monday, November 28, 2016

Second Blooms




Back about 10 years ago or so I bought a grafted weeping pussy willow at the Bangor Flower show, when it was still primarily a flower show. The pussy willow was of the sprawling, “weeping” type, similar to those grafted cherry trees we plant for their form and foliage. My weeping willow came in a 4-inch pot, so you can easily see that it was just a little plant.

After planting in front of my house it didn’t take long for the pussy willow to grow. Each year it just got bigger and bigger, making a nice contrast against the white snow. But one of the reasons for planting any pussy willow is to admire the silvery-white catkins. My pussy willow, though, never had more than two or three catkins at most. This was maddening, especially when I would drive around and view other, similar plants and see that they were aglow with shiny catkins.

However, every so often in fall, my pussy willow sets on a few catkins. And it did that this year. Perhaps the plant thinks it’s spring, I’m not quite sure. One thing I do know is it isn’t terribly unusual for some flowering plants to host a limited, second bloom in fall.

Forsythia, for instance, often sets blossoms in fall. These are never a big, thick blush of blossoms, but all the same they come on in enough numbers to put on an attractive display.

Then we have witch hazel, with its wiry yellow petals. However, witch hazel is a fall bloomer rather than a springtime bloomer, so that sets it apart from pussy willows and forsythia.

At this moment, with temps outside in the mid-40s, it appears that my February daphne, an early-spring flowering plant may soon have a few open blossoms.

And though I’ve never seen this, I believe my neighbor when he told me that he found ostrich fern fiddleheads ready to pick in November.

Were we to have an old-fashioned fall such as the kind we endured in the 1960s through the early 1990s, I wouldn’t be talking about late-blooming plants. But things are different now and warmer falls and winters have become the norm. That’s not to say that any day now we won’t be plunged into the freezer, but it hardly seems likely.

At the very least, it’s fun to go out and look at flowering plants to see if any of them have put on a second bloom. Good luck with that.

As a postscript, I have a confession to make. While I make my living as a writer and use a computer for that, computers are not my friends…by that, they confuse me. I began my writing career on a typewriter, so that should give some history of my relationship with these new-fangled computers.

Anyway, within a few days of posting a new blog I’ll look and see if there were any comments. And usually there aren’t. But once in a great while I’ll go into the guts of the program, a dangerous practice for me, and see to my great amazement that people have responded. In fact I just read a whole string of helpful comments and questions.

So for my next blog I plan on answering those unanswered comments. And from now on, I shall get in the program and take a closer look.

I apologize for not answering some of reader’s excellent questions. From now on I’ll do my best to get with the program and be more attentive. I’m sorry and I promise to do better.

Tom

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Sunday, October 23, 2016

Dandelions Sweet as Sugar






No matter where in the State of Maine you live, it’s likely that your area has suffered a killing frost. For those who cling to their perennial and annual flower beds, that is bad news. But for dandelion lovers, read on.

Springtime and dandelions, almost synonymous to many people, mark a fairly short-lived window of opportunity for dandelion addicts. Spring sees us digging fat, sprawling dandelions. But after true warm weather arrives and dandelions go to flower, the leaves and even the crowns become bitter. And so we wait for the following spring for more of our cherished greens.

But wait. That’s not the end of the story. Did you know that after a killing frost, dandelions lose all trace of bitterness? Yes, that is so. Who knew?

Well, until a few years ago I didn’t. But my good friend Marion Hunnicutt did and Marion enlightened me regarding other uses of dandelions than just spring-dug plants.

First, Marion mentioned that dandelion blossoms, in my mind only useful for making dandelion wine, were ambrosial when fried in a Tempura batter. I tried it this spring and sure enough, Marion had struck a home run. The blossoms were a true delicacy when prepared this way.

But back to fall-dug dandelions. Sure, the plants lack the bulk of spring-dug plants because in spring, dandelions are putting on mass preparatory to blooming. And until the blossoms open they are yummy. After blooming, though, dandelions become bitter to the point of having to pucker when tasting even a tiny portion.

Fall-dug dandelions don’t have the mass or bulk of the springtime variety. They more closely resemble those sparse dandelions we dig as soon as snow melts and we can find a few plants from last year. Well, those early spring dandelions are the same ones we find now in fall, after a few, good freezes.

So dandelion lovers unite! Go forth, digger in hand and harvest this late-season bounty. If I’m any kind of judge of horseflesh, you’ll be glad you did.



Sunday, October 9, 2016


Maine Suffers Severe Drought – No Relief In Sight

We all remember dry summers and even a few dry falls. But the current drought has brought conditions far worse than most of us can recall.

In my case, things have gone from bad to worse. First, my trout pond began getting lower by the day. Than a 12-foot-deep pond on a hilltop behind the house has dropped down to about two feet of water.

My well, which sits about halfway between the two ponds has not escaped the drought and a visual check yesterday revealed about three feet of water in the 12 X 4-foot well. So now I only dare draw water for drinking. No more doing laundry, no more relaxing showers. From now on it’s the laundromat and sponge baths, the worst of which for me is the laundromat. I just hate those places.

Today, like many other Mainers, I’m headed out after church to buy some Jerry jugs for hauling water. It’s hard to conceive, but this may become a way of life for an indeterminate period of time.

The reason is the little piddling rains we have had are barely sufficient to wet the top layer of soil. We need days and days of driving, soaking rain. And according to the weather forecasters, we aren’t going to get it any time soon.

It was thought, for a little while, that Hurricane Matthew would swing close enough to Maine to give us the water we need. But now it looks as if the hurricane will not move any further north than the Carolinas.

So without much-needed rain, wells, streams, rivers, lakes and ponds will continue to lose water through evaporation. Low levels in streams have already led to a loss of many native brook trout. The fish need cool, well-oxygenated water to survive and the few pools of water that remain are neither well-oxygenated nor cool.

Here’s the worst part of this. People who are on city water or who have reliable, drilled wells, don’t believe they need to conserve water. But they do. The water table is low and any water drained from it only suffices to lower it further.

But out-of-sight, out-of-mind remains in control. If the governor declares a state of emergency, then water rationing, at least for those on public water supply, will ensue. But for those with wells that remain functional, no rationing can apply. No one can tell anyone else how to use or not use their own water.

Rationing may help to conserve remaining water supplies. But what we really need is lots of rain. And until that happens, we will remain locked in what I suggest is the worst drought of our lifetimes.





Sunday, July 10, 2016

Upcoming Events


Wild Plants And Wooly Bears

Upcoming Seminar in Moosehead Lake Region


My trips to Holbrook Island in Brooksville were met with great success. Both times we experienced excellent turnout. And even better, participants were each and every one very keen on learning more about the useful wild plants that grow all around us.

Park Supervisor Charles Cannon says that he might like for me to do another field trip in September. I'll keep readers posted as (and if) this unfolds. 

I do have several upcoming field trips, but these are for a private business. However, I just firmed up a two-day event in Greenville for Northern Resource Education Center. Friday, September 16th I’ll present a Digital presentation on edible wild plants and a short presentation on some common mushrooms.

Then on Saturday, September 17, I’ll lead the group on a field trip around the Greenville area. The exact details are still in the making, but interested persons may contact Mildred Kennedy-Stirling at mooseheadlake@me.com for more information.

So if you live in that region or simply would like to experience the Moosehead Region, here’s a chance to see it up-close and personal.

I’ve had loads of fun lately with people sending me plant photos so that I can identify the plant for them. This is kind of a botanical version of Click ‘N Clack’s “Stump the Chump.” Thus far, I’ve been successful. Most of that, however, stems from the excellent photographs people sent.

If you have a mystery plant to identify, feel free to send me a digital image. Remember, though, these images need to be crisp and clear, with good detail. It also helps to send several images shot at different angles.

So try your hand at “stump the plant chump” and I’ll do my best to ID the plant.

Until next time…

Tom



Monday, June 20, 2016

Field Trip to Holbrook Island Wildlife Sanctuary/State Park



Wild Plants And Wooly Bears


I’ll lead two wild plant walks at Holbrook Island Wildlife Sanctuary and State Park in Brooksville on Sunday, July 3. The first of two walks will begin at 1 p.m. and the second starts at 3 p.m.

Holbrook is a mostly undeveloped state park with inland sections, including a small mountain and a considerable amount of seashore. Hiking trails abound. Park roads, while unpaved, are immaculately maintained.

The walk will begin at the Backshore Trail trailhead on the sanctuary’s main road, Indian Bar Road. From there we walk down a gentle, wooded slope and end at an old hayfield. Then we’ll walk back to the trailhead and drive the short distance to the parking lot at park headquarters.

From there, we’ll walk a short path down to a secluded beach where we’ll find all sorts of seaside goodies. Most every one of my favorite seaside plants live here.

Folks who have never visited Holbrook will find it a relaxed, scenic spot, an undiscovered jewel of wild land on Maine’s rocky coast. Even the drive to Holbrook has its charms, the winding roads offering spectacular views of Penobscot Bay, its mountains and islands.


To see Holbrook Island Sanctuary on a map, look at Map 15, B-2 of the DeLorme Atlas and Gazetteer.


I hope to see a few readers there. There is no fee for the plant walk and no sign-up list either. Just come, learn some new plants and enjoy this special piece of Maine

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Spring is Here



The calendar said it was spring back in late March. Than came April and with it, renewed cold. But still, lots of things in nature tell us that despite cold and even late snow, spring is here.

Turkey vultures soar overhead, peering down at the ground to try to sight a meal of some dead carcass. And shoots of daylilies grow a slight amount with each passing day. And crocus brighten our days as they unfold their blooms in the warm, April sun. But one special event must occur before I can feel easy about spring having arrived in earnest. And that event is the arrival of the local phoebe.

Phoebes love it around my place and I love having them. These little olive-drab birds are flycatchers and as such, have great success in picking flying insects from out of the air. And for every insect that a phoebe catches, that’s just one more insect that won’t bite or annoy me.

I keep a journal of nature events and one thing I always make note of is the day the phoebe arrives. Phoebes typically arrive at my place any time between April 10 and April 18. Never has one arrived earlier or later, which I find very interesting.

While for me, the phoebe is the true harbinger of spring, there are two more events that help to welcome spring. First, a mourning cloak butterfly skipped and fluttered over my dirt driveway a few days ago. These are one of the earliest butterflies to emerge in spring. The other early one is angel wing butterflies.

The second true sign of spring happened yesterday, April 9. Wood frogs are loudly calling from a wetland along my driveway. These are the earliest frogs to begin their courting rituals. Spring peepers, a better-known and more popular spring frog needs a bit warmer weather and at least here in Waldo, Maine, we probably won’t hear any peepers for another week or more.


But again, the phoebe has returned. Spring is here. Glory be!

Monday, March 21, 2016

St. Paddy's Day Trout


        The news came out the night before St. Patrick’s Day. It hit me like a ton of bricks. The commissioner of the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife had opened the fishing season two weeks early because of an early ice-out, coupled with low-water conditions on streams and brooks.

I was at my publisher’s house in Topsham and would not be able to take advantage of this unexpected season opener until later the next day. And somehow I knew it wouldn’t be the same as what I had hoped for.

 April 1, the traditional opening of trout season, was always something of an unofficial holiday for me and so it was this year. I had made plans with fishing buddy Tony Wieman to spend the day fishing small brooks and streams around Waldo County.

This is something we both look forward to each year with great anticipation. We meet just after daybreak, fish our favorite and often most productive pool and then go out to Just Barb’s Restaurant in Stockton Springs. From there, fortified with heavy, greasy breakfast fare, we head out to any number of streams. By day’s end we are usually tuckered out from pushing through near-impenetrable stands of alders and climbing banks so steep and slippery that we have to grab roots and saplings to keep from slipping backwards. We usually have at least a few trout to show for out efforts, too.

But this year was different. Had we known of the early opening, we would have altered our plans. As it stood, I was free but Tony had to work. So after getting home on St. Pat’s Day, changing clothes and grabbing my gear, I headed out to the favorite opening day pool. But the road where I live is so bumpy with countless, cavernous potholes that as a practical matter, speeds cannot exceed 10 miles per hour. That cost me precious minutes and I arrived at the pool just in time to see someone else, rod in hand, walking down to the water.

It is rude to horn in on someone else’s fishing, so I was compelled to skip the preferred place and go on to the next stream. Some people don’t think anything of walking up to someone already fishing and then fishing right next to them. But that kind of boorish behavior is not in my repertoire.

Fishing was made difficult by all the bent-down alders, victims of a heavy, wet snowstorm back in November, 2014. Some pools were so cluttered with brush that they were impossible to fish. But here and there, an opening afforded me the opportunity to drop my hook in and hopefully, tempt a trout.

I caught many trout that day, most of them of a sub-legal size. But I managed to take four that were a bit above the minimum length limit. At day’s end, I was a bit tired, but pleased with my meager catch.

And it being St. Patrick’s Day, I got out my Uilleann (Irish) bagpipes and played some jigs and reels. It was then that I decided to capture the moment and arranged a photo, with the pipes spread out on the ground, with the trout next to them.

And as far as my opening-day trip with fishing buddy Tony, we have decided to go for it anyway, just as if the season hadn’t opened early. After all, it will still be April 1, trout season or not. Some things are too special, even carved-in-stone to mess with. And opening day of trout season is one of them.