It's Milkweed TIme

 I love the milkweeds, and of the five local species I've recorded during past seasons, two are now blooming and the other three are close.  The first, Purple Milkweed, Asclepias cordifolia, provides me a lot of excitement.  In the area just northwest of Oakland Camp, they grow in the open between widely spaced oaks and pines and are usually the first milkweed to bloom.  The photo below gives an idea of how the look as I approach.  The photo above shows not only the amazing architecture of the blossoms, but also one of the most frequent guests, the Common Checkered Clerid beetle.

 I probably took a couple dozen photos within a 20-foot radius.  This plant seems to beg to be viewed from many different angles and distances.  These photos were taken on last Friday's outing from which I've already made two posts.  After this, I think I have enough interesting material for two more!  At this point, I'd say only 1/4 to 1/3 of the buds have opened, so there are many weeks of drama remaining.

 My famous left hands provides scale so you can see the relative size of the blossoms and the beetle.

 The overall plant tends to have a purplish color, but its other common name, Heart-leaved Milkweed, as well as the scientific name, come from the shape of the leaves.  I recommend clicking on these photos for close-up looks.  Better yet, take a hike beyond Oakland Camp and take a close look at the real thing.

The Spreading Dogbane is just barely blooming, and I didn't see any insect visitors yet.  The Dogbane and its close cousin, Indian Hemp, and both Apocynums and in the Family Apocynaceae.  The three milkweeds named Asclepias used to be in their own family, Asclepiadaceae, but recently the two families have been combined as Apocynaceae, so I get to say we have 5 local milkweeds.  Maybe more, but I've only discovered 5.
As I wandered around looking for milkweeds, I saw a number of Monarch Butterlies cruising the airways, but none landed on the Dogbane or Purple Milkweed.  I suspect they were waiting for their favorite species to bloom,  That would be the Showy Milkweed, Asclepias speciosa.  In this particular area that could be another couple of weeks.

Friday's Outing, Part 2

 I only saw one of these in a distance of over a mile of dirt road.  Not sure how I spotted it, but up close it is quite an elegant flower.  Diamond Clarkia, or Clarkia rhomboides, is a close relative of Farewell-to-Spring, coming up later.

 If these tall stems of Wild Hyacinth, Dichelostemma multiflorum, hadn't been swinging in the wind, I never would have seen them among the neighboring grasses.  Up close, they are quite an attractive flower.

 Dichelostemma is one of several genera that were once classified as Brodiaea and were once considered to be lilies.  Now they are divided among at least three different families and their classification is still under discussion.  Out of habit, I tend to still call them all Brodiaeas. Note the Common Checkered Clerid beetle hiding among the blossoms.

 This tiny crawler is Spanish Clover, Lotus purshiana, (below).  Very difficult to spot.  I never would have seen it if I hadn't already been crawling on my hands and knees looking for something else.  Probably a bug.  Click on the photo to enjoy the detail of the pea-like blossum.

 The Blue Gilia, Gilia capitata, is actually sometimes blue although in this patch they were nearly all white.  This one is being paid a visit by a Common Checkered Clerid beetle.  They appeared this past week and are already found in great numbers on many different species of flowers.

 The Farewell-to-Spring, Clarkia dudleyana, was first spotted (by me) last summer on the last day of spring.  So, this one has bloomed a month earlier.  I think we're in for a hot, dry summer. If you Google this one, you'll find that several different species of Clarkia share this common name.

 I found one patch of Yarrow blooming near Tollgate Creek between the railroad track and the corral.  This one has a visitor that is one of the Longhorned Beetles, Family Cerambycidae.

There will be at least two more posts based on this one outing last Friday.  Lots of new flowers blooming this week.  The overall look of the forest while driving by is hot, dry, and brown.  I needed to walk slowly through the underbrush to spot this most of these flowers.

In the Vicinity of Berry Creek

 The Mountain Lady's Slippers are back!  In Latin, they are Cypripedium montanum, in the Family Orchidaceae.  A friend told me a week ago that they were blooming in a remote stretch of Taylor Creek, but at my favorite spot off the Oakland Camp Road they were barely in buds.  Things happened fast this past week of alternating rain and sunshine.  Friday afternoon there were over a dozen plants blooming in my spot, many of them having two or more blossoms each.

 I've yet to find an insect in or on one of these, but I'll check regularly.  Orchids are generally pollinated by tiny wasps, so I'd love to see that happen.

 In this same dark, shady area, there are other orchids, the corralroots, and several species of lilies, the most prominent one at this time being the False Solomon's Seal, Maianthemum racemosa (below).

[Photo of False Solomon's Seal accidentally deleted from this spot during editing.  I'm going to wait until I get near a decent WiFi connection before trying to fix it.]

 At the roadside that marks the spot, there are many Western Dog Violets blooming.  They are quite short and fairly well-hidden by the taller wild grasses, Mugwort, and other foliage.  This is the only species of violet around here that's violet or blue, most of the others being yellow.  And we have a white species, Macloskey's Violet.  This one is Viola adunca.

 The first Red Larkspur, Delphinium nudicaule, were blooming a couple of weeks ago, but now they are plentiful in the shady parts of the forest.  These are in the same family as Buttercups, Ranunculaceae.

 The Mugwort, Artemisia sp., is not blooming yet, and when it does, the flowers are so tiny they're easily missed.  A substitute flower, at least aesthetically, is the Skipper, an insect that is not quite a butterfly and not quite a moth.  They were plentiful on this Friday afternoon.

 AS I headed toward Oakland Camp from this spot, the forest got less dense and the roadside received much more sun. So now the dominant plants were Arrowleaf Balsamroot, which appeared in an earlier post, and Sticky Cinquefoil (below), a member of the Rose family.

 Another denizen of the dry areas is the Orchard Morning Glory, known by its detractors as Bindweed, and by botanists as Convolvulus arvensis. 

 Wrapping up Part 1 of my Friday afternoon outing is the roadside weed Rose Clover. 

I've seen patches of this clover an acre or more is area, and while it makes good forage for cattle, it is considered invasive in many areas.  It remains in bloom for many weeks, so I consider it a pleasant roadside attraction.  When I passed the camp and headed toward Gilson Creek, I came across many more new species blooming.  Part 2 will be posted soon.

Not TP, Thankfully

 Driving across Sierra Valley on Highway 70, I was struck by the contrast between the irrigated fields and the more desert-like flora of the roadsides.  The abundance of blooming Bitterbrush, Sagebrush, and Rabbitbrush, gives me the same feeling as the Great Basin proper, although the Sierra Valley is on the edge and is not quite pure desert.  Perhaps I am conditioned by many previous trips across the desert where any safe roadside turnout has likely been visited for bathroom purposes.  So, when I drive between Vinton and Chilcoot at 65 mph, I hope I can be forgiven for mistaking this beautiful flower for toilet paper.  But, since I have found the Birdcage Evening Primrose along this stretch in summers past, I thought I'd better stop and check.  It was beautiful!  The species, Oenothera deltoides, is divided into a number of subspecies, a few of which are endangered.  The common name comes from the fact that at the end of the season when the flowers and leaves are dried up and fallen, the remaining woody stems form a circle of arcs that resemble a bird cage.

 If you're familiar with Evening Primrose in its several yellow species, the details of the flower shown here will look familiar.  Four large petals and prominent stamens and pistils.

 It was windy when I stopped here Friday afternoon, so I had to time my shots with the pendulum motion of the plant.  Another observation is that like most common plants of the desert, a natural spacing results from the lack of available water.  Seen from the air, these plants as well as more dominant ones like Creosote Bush to the South and the above-mentioned three 'brushes' in our local desert seem to be planted in a pattern.

These mounds with their entrance to ant homes always remind me of the surface of the Moon.  I usually toss a tidbit, like a crumb from my McDonald's Apple Pie, into the hole to see if I can rouse some hungry ants.  Yesterday I suppose it was too windy and cold. Or perhaps the ants have better taste than I do.   Nobody took the bait.

One of My Favorite Aliens

 Scotch Broom always brings out my curmudgeonly tendencies.  I suppose that's because I find myself liking a plant that I know is widely hated.  In some neighborhoods, it has the same affect as liking President Obama.  Cytisus scoparius is in the Legume family, now known as Fabaceae.  I saw the frist one of the season blooming on the East side of Highway 70 near the FRC turnoff.  I parked on the West side and jogged over to investigate.

 Scotch Broom has a wonderful fragrance.  To me, it smells like peaches.  It's fun to compare notes with other people's noses.  The flowers are beautiful, too.  The plant has an interesting history in relation to people where it is a native species, mainly Western Europe, and, of course, Scotland.  Check out the article in Wikipedia.

 I first learned about this plant when I lived in Sierra County years ago.  Between Downieville and Nevada City there are some very large patches on the roadsides and you can see why it is considered an "invasive" species.  When I lived in Leggett, in northern Mendocino County, the state park people considered it a big problem.  I remember a couple of times helping to manually remove lots of them from the Standish Hickey State Park and neighboring roadside on Highway 101.  While I was doing my duty as a good citizen, I was secretly enjoying how the black seed pods of Scotch Broom literally explode when ready and shoot their seeds quite a distance.  The exploding pods sound like popcorn, or maybe a giant cracking his knuckles.

 I can agree with removing this plant when it poses a problem to the native ecosystem, but not doing it out of hatred and using poisons.  I use the word 'alien' in my title as a reminder that I don't like to see field guides using this word for non-native species.  Alien has too many bad connotations.

My favorite field guides use 'non-native'  and I think that conveys the necessary information without stirring negative feelings.  Next time you see some Scotch Broom, take a closer look, and even a smell.  Just be careful where you park.  This plant by the college turnoff is in an unsafe spot for daydreaming flower lovers. 

On the Edge

 Tuesday I posted a couple of photos of the first Iris buds in my front yard, and today, the first one bloomed.  Here are three views.  By the way, mine are about a month behind the same variety growing downtown, only three blocks away.

 There is something about peering down the hairy "throat" of an Iris that makes it seem like a wildflower, even though this is a domesticated variety that has been growing on its own ever since we bought the house six years ago.  I'll occasionally pull some weeds or wild grasses from around it, but I don't water or fertilize it.  It seems to be rugged enough to survive without human intervention.

A side view, just for variety's sake.  Nearby, another unnatural phenomenon, a species of non-native clover growing in my lawn.  It bloomed profusely very soon after my Sunday mowing.  I love those

survivors.  As I wandered around my front yard in the morning, taking note of some plants other than native wildflowers, I thought about the fact that I live right on the edge.  That is, the edge of town next to the edge of the National Forest.  There's a phenomenon known in ecology as the Edge Effect.  That is, when two major biomes (a large region of more or less similar dominant species and climatic conditions) come together, there's usually a region of overlap that includes many of the species from each of the neighboring biomes as well as some species unique to the overlap area which is known as an ecotone.  This meditation reminded of an old acquaintance who lived in Genessee some 30 years ago.  He considered Genessee to be "on the edge."  That is, the edge between more or less domesticated life of downtown Taylorsville, Quincy, and communities beyond in one direction, and many miles of National Forest via dirt road in the other direction.  He found things to like in both directions, but preferred to live on the edge.  We got into a conversation about the impending paving of the road toward the popular camping, fishing and hunting site of Antelope Lake.  It was apparent that the "edge" was going to move.  There would be more traffic, and all that implies.  I asked him what he was going to do when the edge moved.  He said he would move, and he did.
I like living on the edge, too, but I'm more reluctant to move than I once was.  I do tend be be "on edge" a lot about the speed with which edges move and how natural areas are getting overwhelmed with development, even so-called sustainable development, one of my favorite oxymorons.  One of my goals for this blog is to raise awareness of and sensitivity to beautiful plants, animals, fungi, and interrelationships going on all around us that are often overlooked or undervalued in the course of our too busy and materialistic lives.  Thought for the day: Take a walk, a slow walk, without headphones.

A Couple of My Neighbors

Yesterday afternoon I headed up Boyle Ravine with my camera when a voice told me to head downtown instead.  Within the first block of my walk, I saw a patch of tall Phlox growing in front of a friend's house.  I paused to see if the flowers waving in the wind would be worth a couple of photos.  I was about to give up on photography when one of my favorite beetles landed.  The Common Checkered Clerid visits many different species of wild and domestic flowers, and this was the first one I'd seen this season.  I had to time the pendulum motion of the flower and try to take my shot when the movement briefly ceased. 

I took a few shots with my hand in the background to show the size of the insect.  I'd say about 1/2 inch in length.  These beetles can fly, but they are not nearly as skittish as butterflies.  If you approach slowly, you can usually count on them staying put or crawling slowly for good photos.

The Skippers, on the other hand,. have that name for a reason.  They are Lepidopterans, but not quite Butterflies and not quite Moths, at least according to most classification schemes.  They don't stay put for long unless they are seriously focused on sipping nectar or mating.  They flitter from flower to flower more or less constantly and are often taken to be moths.  Soon I'll post some photos of Butterflies, Moths, and Skippers and point out the traits that distinguish them.  Click on any of these photos for close-ups.