Shit

A couple of months ago, a friend and I sit out to explore an area in the Oregon Cascades  it was a really long drive. For some reason, the night before, I was only able to sleep for an hour. On the trip there, I slept all the way.

When we arrived, I got out and started my legs. The elevation was pretty high, so the temperature was low. There was ice on every mud puddle, on the lakes, and in the creeks.  We hiked along the creek through mature alpine fir- Abies lasciocarpa  it was a lovely area. After a short hike, my friend sat down on a boulder to smoke her marijuana. I do not partake, so I wanted something to do while she sat there and got stoned.

I wandered off and happened to stumble across a mostly dead broom in an alpine fir  

There were a couple of twigs that were barely alive, so I took some scions for grafting.  Early November isn't ideal for grafting, but I can't see being able to get in there January or February.  

I am not going to get my hopes up, but I will be glad if one succeeds.

I used to get really frustrated when there was an interesting mutation that I couldn't collect easily.  There have been a few that I haven't had success with- either because they are inaccessible, the land owner ignored my request for access, or other reasons.  Such is life.  Sometimes it seems life is too complex and out of our control to freak out about everything that doesn't go our way.

My perspective has changed in the past few years.  It isn't that I don't get pissed off at shit.  It's just that I fight against the shit coming down less.  I guess.

Oh.  and there are pictograms there.  It was a trade route for indigenous folks, and several rock paintings are there.  They are faded, but intact.  

Stupid People

My friend Melissa and I took a long drive through the woods in Washington State the other day.  It was Labor Day weekend, and a bazillion people were out in the forest.  I found myself cursing at every vehicle that passed us on the gravel roads, kicking up lots of dust for us to breathe.

After a while, we turned off on a smaller road to go explore a bog that I know about it.  It is full of carnivorous plants and cranberries, and it is delightful at any time of year.

At one point, I happened to look out the window and saw this larch tree:

That broom looks rather promising.  We will have to go back with my shotgun to see if we can get some scions for grafting.  There aren't many cultivars of that species, so I'm kind of excited about it.

We continued south, and came across an abandoned bonfire.  Not just a little camp fire.  A fucking BONFIRE.  

What in the hell is wrong with people?  This was one day before the windstorm that is currently burning the entire west coast of North America.  OMFG.

We didn't have a bucket, so we scooped water out of the creek, using a reusable grocery bag.  It took a lot of water to extinguish the fire.  it kept boiling away as we stirred it into the coals.  We finally got it extinguished.  

Here's a pic after we dumped a lot of water on it:

The next day, the wind kicked up, and the whole West Coast caught on fire.  if we hadn't put that fire out, I'm sure the wind would have fanned that substantial coal bed, and the woods next to it would have burned. 

Melissa and I have been patting ourselves on the back all week for being such great citizens.  You are welcome, Washington!  😀

Exploding Brains

There are certain native plants that seem invasive.  Populus trichocarpa, or the black cottonwood, is one.  Its seeds fly on fluffy down in June every year, and the resulting seedlings come up by the thousands in any damp location.  They grow quickly, and produce lots of root suckers.  They can be a bit of a pest as a result.

In the past couple of months, I've gone through a bunch of personal weirdness- mostly romantic angst.  I know that's my usual subject of whining, so I won't subject you to it now.  Needless to say, it has resulted in restlessness and sleepless nights.

In order to get my shit back together, I quit drinking alcohol and I've been taking walks- sometimes up to three per day.  Sometimes my phone logs 30,000 steps in a day.  It has had a good effect on my health and mood.

One of my walking routes involves a trail through a wetland area, populated by lots of Populus (see what I did there?)  After walking the trail dozens of times, I finally looked more closely at the yellowing leaves of one cottonwood branch.

I had noticed the yellow leaves before, but they only registered as sick leaves, yellowing in the August heat.  Upon closer inspection, however, I noticed that they are variegated.  And rather nicely variegated at that

Imagine a large tree with foliage like this:

As I've discovered before, though, sometimes such variegations are unstable and quickly revert to green.  This one looks promising, so we will  see.

In the  meantime, if you never hear from me again, you will know that my brain finally exploded from romantic entanglements.  I suppose there are worse ways to die...

 

Wherever you go...

I haven't posted much in the past couple of years.  that's generally because I haven't been out hunting plants much- with the exception of some trips to South America, but those are the subject for a future post.

Since we are still doing the social distancing thing, I figured I should go out in the woods and hike around alone.  The trails are all closed, but nobody monitors the forest service roads.  Since I tend to walk on random roads, rather than trails and roads near attractions, I rarely encounter other people.

Today I explored an old clear cut.  My thinking is that the trees are all small- under 10 meters high- and I should be able to reach any mutations I find without using the gun.  Plus, I will see a larger mix of species that grow in the sun as well.


I didn't find any interesting mutations, but I had an enjoyable walk in the woods.  I tend to think a lot when I do that, so I reflected on my experiences both as a plant hunter, and as a human being in general.

As I have gone out plant hunting, some days I feel disappointed for not having found anything.  I sometimes worry that I picked the wrong place to look.  But upon further thought, I know that is bullshit.  The thing about hunting for plants is that interesting mutations can literally be found anywhere.   They could be in the middle of a clear cut, in someone's yard, a parking lot, or on the side of a busy freeway.

I tend to hike and explore in places that have diverse and interesting plant life.  Those places usually aren't the most popular hiking trails, which are frequented by people who value large old-growth timber, spectacular views, and waterfalls.  I enjoy those things as well, but they are not my primary focus.

What I love the most is that you can find wonders- real wonders, not consolation prizes or Pollyanna bullshit- anywhere.  The place need not be sacred, beautiful, or awe-inspiring.  I would never have found some of the plants in this blog if I had stuck with popular outdoor spots.

I traversed the clearcut, carefully looking at the trees and undergrowth.  The trees included Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), Western Larch (Larix occidentalis), and Pacific Silver fir (Abies amabilis).  Closer to the road, I saw some Pacific Yew (Taxus brevifolia) as well.  On the ground, there were mats of Arctostaphyllos, and the occasional Anemones in flower.

I thought about my career trainwreck.  As  I have mentioned in previous blog posts, I have had some trouble with my career.  It hasn't been easy for me.   I worked as a special education teacher.  I loved the work, but I struggled to get along with coworkers and (especially) supervisors.

After my dad died a couple of years ago, I found myself less able to swallow the large load of stress that the job produces.  I struggled.  Shortly thereafter, Donald Trump won the US election for president.  Immediately afterward, the climate of my workplace changed.  I worked in a high school in a conservative area.  Whereas before I felt tolerated as a harmless weirdo, the tension between me and my conservative coworkers turned ugly.

I won't go into detail.  It was strange enough that I doubt that people would believe me.  If I hadn't been there, I'm not sure I would believe it myself!  Suffice it to say that it got unpleasant and hostile enough that I just walked out of my job.  It certainly wasn't the first time I've quit a job.  But this time was pretty final.  I'm not going back to that career.

Maybe it was being forced to look at my own mortality.  Losing a parent has a way of shoving that down your throat.  We don't get an infinite amount of time in this life, and it is important how we spend it.  I am simply not willing to be that miserable.

Granted, I was able to pay off my mortgage when I sold my dad's house.  If I hadn't done that, I would be pretty fucked right now.  Even so, however, I am kind of poor.  As I consider my next steps in life, I am looking at the choice between living frugally, or returning to a regular job.

At times, I feel bad about my inability to fit in and toe the line with a career.  I see college classmates and former work colleagues who are in the height of their careers.  They drive nicer cars, have nicer houses in better neighborhoods, and can take expensive vacations.  There is also (perhaps only in my imagination) a prestige that comes with having a professional career and a good middle class job.

But perhaps I am taking the lesser-traveled route.  Maybe not the righteous one the Robert Frost envisioned, but the path laid out by my own limitations and boundaries.

Can I take a lesson from plant hunting?  Can treasure be found on the road I am walking?  While other people may spend their free time snowboarding, taking cruises, and climbing mountains, maybe on my quieter back road, I will find things they will never see.

At least that's what I'm telling myself.