Twilight in the Ponderosa Pine

In November, when Dad and I almost got stuck in the mountains of North Idaho, I found a broom on the way out.  It was almost dark, so I'm not sure how I saw it.  It was a huge, round mass in a Pinus ponderosa.
As the name would suggest, ponderosa pines are very large trees.  The needles are very long- up to maybe 10 or 12 inches.  They are a highly fire-resistant species when they are older.  Though very old trees aren't very common these days, you can see them occasionally.  They tend to have no limbs on the lower part of the tree, so fires can burn under them without climbing into the canopy.  Their bark is thick, so they are well-protected from ground fires after they are mature.

This tree was a medium-sized tree, perhaps two to three feet in diameter at the base.  The broom was at the base of the canopy, perhaps 60 feet from the ground.  Since it was nearly dark, I couldn't tell if it would be safe to shoot pieces out of it.  I also don't have any Pinus ponderosa root stocks ready, so I'll have to wait until next year.

If this broom turns out to be a good one for propagation, the resulting plants will only be appropriate for very large gardens.  Who knows how fast it will grow, however.  This will definitely be one to observe over a couple of decades :)

Giant Broccoli Broom

Last summer, I was able to spend a few days in the mountains of eastern Washington.  My searches were generally disappointing- no spectacular variegations, gold boughs or dramatically weeping forms were to be seen.  My only comfort was the bounty of delicious wild fruit.  The genus Vaccinium is one of my very favorite groups of plants.  

Here in the Western US, we have a dozen or so species of Vaccinium.  The one in the picture below is Vaccinium membranaceum- though I personally think that this species forms a confusing complex with Vaccinium globulare.  Both are supposed to be common in the region- and they both look (and taste!) very similar to me.  I suspect that many of the plants we see are probably hybrids between the two.  If you've never tried them, they have a much more tart and intense flavor than blueberries (Vaccinium sp from eastern North America).  Locally, you can find them in ice cream, syrups and baked goods.  As a kid, many of my early childhood memories are trips up into the mountains to pick in the summer months.

After a long day of searching, I was heading back to Dad's house when I spotted a mass in a Douglas fir tree.  I got out and climbed up the bank to get a closer look at it. I thought it looked like a giant piece of broccoli.

As I've said before, brooms seem to occur much more frequently in this species than they do in other conifers.  I've seen a number of brooms that all look very similar.  This one is a bit more upright and robust than the others, so I think it is worth propagating and observing.  Fortunately, it is pretty close to a paved, plowed road.  I should be able to try grafting it this March.

How to Get Yourself Killed in the Woods

This is going to be an embarrassing post to write.  Normally, I go out into the woods reasonably prepared.  I have an excellent sense of direction, I pay attention to the weather, and I keep my cool in stressful situations.

I didn't do any of those this past weekend.  

I was up at Dad's, visiting for Thanksgiving.  On Friday, I talked Dad into driving up into North Idaho to see if we could get to the Pinus monticola sapling that I'd found back in September with my brother.  I had no idea if the snow would be too deep or not.  

When we left Dad's house, my intention had been to drive until there was enough snow to make me nervous, and then turn around.  I failed to take into account the lull of plant lust.  It can cloud my judgement, and get me into situations that aren't good.  There have been a number of times that I've run head-long into stupid situations without thinking...  one time I clambered up a really steep rock face in the Wallowa Mountains in eastern Oregon in pursuit of some carnivorous plants- only to discover that I wasn't able to get back down so easily.  

Anyhow, there was no snow on the ground when we left Dad's house.  We drove into the mountains for an hour before we encountered the beginnings of snow.  Once we got there, it got steadily deeper by the mile.  I started to think we wouldn't make it to the tree, which was a mild bummer.  There was a single pair of tire tracks that went through the snow.  The trouble with tracks like this (I've been in this situation a few times) is that the snow gets packed under the tires, forming a reasonably firm surface to drive on- provided that the temperature stays below freezing.  If you wander off those tracks, you immediately sink into the softer snow- and it can be a challenge to get back onto the firmly-packed tracks.  

Dad started saying that he didn't think we were going to make it.  Mind you- Dad worries a lot more than I do, and I'm used to hearing him worry aloud about situations that don't bother me.  I wanted to go a bit further, since we were only about five miles from the tree.  About that time, another pickup came down the road toward us.  Since both trucks were pretty much stuck on the same wheel tracks, I had to back up about a quarter of a mile to a place where we could pass each other.  A young man was in the other truck with a couple of young kids.  I asked him how far in he was able to go.  He told us that he had come around the road from the other end.  He said that the road was good the whole way- and that it was actually bare gravel after a few miles.  

We thanked him and continued driving in.  We got stuck once, and we had to shovel a path to get the pickup back up onto the wheel tracks.  "I really don't think it is wise to continue," Dad said.   I told him that we should keep going for just a bit to see.  Later, I regretted the hell out of not listening to him.

After a few miles, the snow did, in fact lessen.  By the time we reached the tree, there was barely an inch on the ground, and driving was quite easy.  I collected scions, and we went on our way.  Of course, I didn't have a map, and I'd never been up that way before.  We should have just turned around then.  But the guy said that the road was clear from there on out.  Of course...  "the road is fine" is a bit of a subjective statement.  I won't take anyone's word on such a thing again.

We drove for a few miles, and came to an intersection.  There were signs that pointed to various trailheads and mountaintops- but not to towns.  We took off down a wrong turn.  A few miles later, we ran into some trappers on snow mobiles.  They told us which road we should have taken, and we turned around.  In retrospect, I think that they were staring at us like we were insane for being in there in a truck.  

We drove back to the intersection, and took the correct road.  Since we were now on the right road- which was bare gravel the whole way to town- I started watching for brooms.  There were pretty large larch, Douglas fir, grand fir, and Western Hemlock trees lining the road.  I really hoped to find a broom.  This time of year, I could shoot pieces out of it and graft it when I got home- instead of having to wait until winter like I did during summer expeditions.

We climbed in elevation until we started to see snow again.  Dad began to worry aloud again about the condition of the road.  We switched drivers, since I seemed to be a bit better about keeping the truck in the wheel tracks. 

The snow got deeper.  I began to get nervous as well, since the conditions were rapidly getting worse.  We got to the top of the mountain and headed down a very gradual slope on the other side.  I moved slowly, so that if I got off the wheel tracks I wouldn't go very far.  We got stuck and dug ourselves out again.

We went about a hundred yards and got stuck again.  I realized that we were pretty much fucked.  The road ahead didn't go down in elevation quickly, so there would be plenty more bad conditions ahead.  My back, which had been bothering me for the last few weeks, began to hurt enough that I couldn't do much in the way of shoveling.

Aside from mentioning his concern, Dad didn't show any sign of being as scared as I felt.  He just kept working on getting the truck unstuck.

We got out, and then got stuck again.  At this point, I was starting to get pretty freaked out.  I don't exactly panic when I get scared- I just kind of shut down.  I had to fight the urge to get back in the truck and just hide from the situation.  I got out our empty coffee cups and filled them with snow.  It was warm in the cab of the truck, so it would melt.  We weren't carrying any water, which was kind of bad.  I've read that eating snow when you are lost in the woods is a great way to bring on hypothermia. 

My clothes were warm enough, as were my boots.  The trouble was that my boots only came up a bit past my ankles.  Every time I had to get off the wheel tracks to get around the side of the truck or gather sticks, rocks and dirt to put under the tires, snow got into my boots.  My socks were starting to get wet.

I wondered how many toes I would lose to frostbite if we had to walk out.  It was at least 20 miles.

I felt ashamed and stupid at having insisted on continuing into the snow.  I apologized to Dad, and told him how upset I was getting. 

"Well, as your brother says, 'shit happens,'" he said.  Again, I was struck by how calm he was.  I asked him how he was able to keep so level-headed in such a bad situation.   His answer was a combination of just keeping focused on the task at hand, as well as having less life to lose than I did.  He's 78 and I'm 43, so I guess he had a point there.

I thought about the possibility of dying up in the woods.  Death seems much more real to me now than it did when I was a younger man.  I've always wondered how I would react when I had to look it in the face.  Even if we'd died on that mountain, death would have been many hours away, so I don't think I was actually looking it in the face.  I was just starting to realize that I might be looking it in the face that day.

I was scared.  I've watched a couple of older friends die over the last decade or so.  One was very scared, and one didn't seem to be. I've always wondered how I'd handle that situations.  At this point, I think I might be one of the people who is scared to die.  Then again, this was a situation that was brought on by my own bad decisions.  Guilt is an emotion that has always been close to the surface in  my mind (a trait that is easy to attribute to a conservative religious upbringing), and I think that much of my state of mind was mixed with it.  Perhaps someday, when it is time to die for real, I'll have an easier time of it- particularly if I manage to keep from making too many stupid choices.

I realize that it might sound as though I'm making a big deal of this.  Situations like this really do kill people, however- like the drug runners in a previous post on this blog.  In order to keep from losing my cool, I tried to think about the experience, and how it might provide some useful perspective to me in the future.

At any rate, after the third or fourth time we dug the truck out (over the course of a couple of hours), we managed to get moving again.  There were a number of very scary corners, but I managed to keep the truck on the tracks.  We descended into snow-free elevations again, and the road was once again bare gravel.

I hadn't thought to take any pictures before that point.  This interesting granite cliff made me remember to get out my camera.  The road that I've described was up on the top of the mountain behind the cliff.

That evening, when we finally got home, I was so thankful to be safe in the warm house.  Needless to say, I will not be going out unprepared like that again.  And when Dad says that he thinks it is unwise to continue into the snow, I will turn right around.

As for that pine... I sure hope that the grafts take.  Maybe I should consider 'Death on the Mountain' as a name for it.

Clear Lake

Well, I missed a post last week.  It was the first one I've missed since I started this back in February.

To be honest, I'm not sure I can continue with the pace that I had set.  I had several years of hunting experience to draw from, and it is hard for me to get out in the woods often enough to keep coming up with a story a week- let alone a new discovery a week!

So here is what I think I will do- at least for a while.  I am going to cut back to once a month, probably just for the winter months.  Next spring, when I start looking again, I'll try to go back to once a week.

Consider this my post for November (even though it is a few days early).  My next one will be the first Wednesday in December.


Several years ago, my friends Janet and Diana and I went on a plant hunting trip east of Mt Hood.  On the way up to the place where we were to hike, Diana had me stop the car.  "That hemlock back there looked kind of yellow."  It should be noted that Diana is owner of Collector's Nursery, so she knows her plants.  Be sure to check out her new blog.

We were on a busy stretch of Highway 26.  I backed up until we saw it.

 It was indeed golden.  the following two winters, I tried to propagate it from cuttings and grafting.  I've had a hard time with this species-  Tsuga heterophylla-  even though it isn't supposed to be that difficult.


Each time I went up there, I had to wade through the snow in snowshoes.  Luckily, it is very close to the highway, so I didn't have to go far in.  Here is an actual picture of ME.

The third time (the time in the picture here), I was able to get one graft to take.  I've been growing it out for a couple of years now, and it is shaping up to be a very lovely plant.  I'm going to call it 'Clear Lake' because it is right next to the road to Clear Lake.  If anyone wants to see it, it is pretty obvious if you go up there.  Just be nice to it.  It is a beautiful tree, and I hope it lives a long life.

In the Garden

God damnn it.

I didn't get a post done before today.  I have started a new job, so I've been pretty busy and stressed out.

I don't have the energy to post something excellent, so I'll just share a picture or two.

Here is what Campanula rotundifolia 'Sky Diamonds' looks like after one year in my garden:

Remember Pinus contorta var latifolia 'No Trespassing'?  I got a number of seeds off the original broom.  I was able to get two to germinate, and one of them is dwarfed.  I think it has some serious potential.  Everyone who sees it thinks it is cute.  I think I'll try grafting it this winter.

Anyhow, I will do my best to have a post ready on time next week :)

I don't say it often, but I appreciate my readers.  Thanks for sharing in my wacky plant adventures!

Penstemons

Penstemons are a large genus of wildflowers that are native to most of North America.  Here in the Northwest, we have a number of shrubby species that grow on cliffs and gravelly areas.  One of these species is P. cardwellii.  My friend Janet and I spent some time poking around in the Cascade Mountains in Washington a couple of years ago.  In one area, there was quite a bit of variation in flower color.  The one above is a particularly purple form (most are pinkish purple.)  This is the plant that I grew from cuttings two years ago, happily blooming in my rock garden.  

The cool thing about most Penstemons is that they are incredibly easy to propagate.  Ones with woody stems like this one have adventitious roots at the base of every stem.  All you have to do is take some cuttings with those roots on them and you are up and running.  The main drawback of the wild species is that they have a pretty short window of blooming.  Some of the hybrids that you can find in garden centers now last a bit longer, however.

If you haven't grown penstemons- or seen them in the wild- you should definitely go out and look for some next spring.

Crazy Road Trip II

I must apologize for the last couple of posts- and this one as well.  I've been super busy, and my brain feels tired.  The school year has started again, and I've been oddly busy as a substitute.  This is good for the checking account, but somewhat bad for my spare time to write blog posts :)

Last weekend, I was able to talk my poor, unsuspecting friend David into a road trip to the Clearwater River in Idaho.  There, we shot pieces out of the broom in the picture below:

I had found the broom in the trip over there last summer, but I was unable to take pictures because my camera was busy being ruined in the rain at the time.  This time, David had a camera.

We had to wade across the south fork of the Clearwater, which wasn't really that large.  The trick was to get across with a shotgun in hand without falling in.  The bottom of the river was covered in rocks about as big as my head, so it was a little tricky.  We got several pieces fairly quickly, and made our way back across the river.  

At that point, I was seized by anxious thoughts, and was convinced that the pieces we had didn't actually come from the broom.  This is of particular concern when the broom isn't markedly different from the rest of the tree.  I shot some pieces out from the road, and then waded back across to retrieve them.  I got thoroughly soaked in the process.  I was sick with a cold that I'd already had for a week.  I still have it, and it is significantly worse.  Perhaps that will teach me to go wading in cold Idaho rivers with a cold.  

Anyhow, we got pieces that definitely came from the broom, and got back into the car to go to our campsite.  Unfortunately, I spotted another broom not far away that looked very similar.  Despite the fact that the branches did not look diseased, I am wondering if the broom we collected was caused by a pathogen or parasite.  It seems somewhat dubious, given the fact that a similar one was nearby.  I guess the truth will come out next year when the grafts take or fail.  

That evening, we enjoyed wine and hot dogs by the campfire.  (Quite a gourmet combination, I know.)  That was followed by an evening of slumber in the tent.  I awoke in the morning to find that I had farted and snored all night, keeping poor David awake.  I blame the cold.  

Anyhow,  I have a dozen or so grafts from this broom.  Hopefully something good will come out of it.  If nothing else, I had a good weekend with my friend- despite him having to listen to my snoring and smelling my farts.