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and a yellow blossom

 

Gelbblütiger Fingerstrauch

 

Pentacon AV 2.8/80

The water level is below my waterproof boots in this area. The first time that I've got past the hardhack this year. The hardhack circles the deep part of the lake.

Standing in the lake. Still very shallow water.

The huge snowfall in February has lasted until mid March as a blanket of ice. Very unusual here.

Still getting enough rain to keep things wet. In winter the whole area is a wetland.

Some species of bee or other hymenoptera (ID anyone?) on a shrubby cinquefoil (Dasiphora fruticosa) flower.

 

Gatunek (ID?) pszczoły albo innej błonkówki na kwiecie pięciornika krzewiastego (Dasiphora fruticosa).

  

I thought that it was smoke, but didn't smell wood smoke. Ground fog is normal this time of year.

We are having a series of rain storms. The ground is very wet.

The end of the winter.

Common Name(s): Douglas Spirea; Pink Spirea; Rose Spirea, Steeplebush, Hardhack.

 

Scientific Name: Spiraea douglasii. Spiraea comes from the Greek word, speira, which refers to wreaths, or garlands. It is for this reason that species of spirea are often referred to as bridal-wreath shrubs. Douglasii was named after the Scottish botanist David Douglas.

Spiraea douglasii spends the winter standing in water. Grass is the lake plant that stays green in the winter lake.In the spring all of the lake plants green up.In the heat of the summer the lake shrinks to a small pond.

The temperature has been around freezing and below. Getting a snowfall today.

Spiraea douglasii—Douglas spiraea. Spiraea douglasii is a rhizomatous, deciduous shrub that grows in the northern Sierra Nevada and North Coast Ranges thence north to Alaska and eastwards to Montana. It can form nearly impenetrable stands in freshwater marshes and bogs. The species provides nesting sites for both birds and bears. This spiraea grows well in gardens. Photographed at Regional Parks Botanic Garden located in Tilden Regional Parks near Berkeley, CA

Most of the plants in the wetland lake are deciduous and look dead in the winter. That's hardhack, Spiraea douglasii, which is just coming into flower.

Spiraea douglasii

 

Viaduct Flats, Saanich, BC

 

This intensely pink flower has to be confusing to bees and butterflies with its hundreds of blossoms and thousands of stamens. Little chance of a potential pollinator getting away with a free lunch here.

It's still mud out to the trees, and it's pretty damp in spots. Looking forward to the rains of the fall.

From the main trail into the wetland which is dry now.

Fifty flower friends with familiar faces,.

Boston,Lothrop, Lee & Shepard co.[1907].

biodiversitylibrary.org/page/39450499

The shallow waters by the little peninsula that extends into the wetland lake.

I was standing on a trail at Willband Creek this morning when I suddenly became aware that a flock of Bushtits had landed in the bushes near me. They twittered it up and went from bush to bush and I managed a few images. And then they flew further down the path.

Hardhack (Spiraea Douglasii), also known as "steeple bush". Native to the Pacific Northwest.

 

SOOC

 

Bradley Lake, Puyallup, WA | July 2009.

 

HPPT!

Spiraea douglasii that dominates the shallow parts of the wetland lake. Still very dormant.

A high spot, the water hasn't gotten here yet. I.m sure that this area will be flooded soon.

Wild Grapes

 

What tree may not the fig be gathered from?

The grape may not be gathered from the birch?

It's all you know the grape, or know the birch.

As a girl gathered from the birch myself

Equally with my weight in grapes, one autumn,

I ought to know what tree the grape is fruit of.

I was born, I suppose, like anyone,

And grew to be a little boyish girl

My brother could not always leave at home.

But that beginning was wiped out in fear

The day I swung suspended with the grapes,

And was come after like Eurydice

And brought down safely from the upper regions;

And the life I live now's an extra life

I can waste as I please on whom I please.

So if you see me celebrate two birthdays,

And give myself out of two different ages,

One of them five years younger than I look.

 

One day my brother led me to a glade

Where a white birch he knew of stood alone,

Wearing a thin head-dress of pointed leaves,

And heavy on her heavy hair behind,

Against her neck, an ornament of grapes.

Grapes, I knew grapes from having seen them last year.

One bunch of them, and there began to be

Bunches all round me growing in white birches,

The way they grew round Leif the Lucky's German;

Mostly as much beyond my lifted hands, though,

As the moon used to seem when I was younger,

And only freely to be had for climbing.

My brother did the climbing; and at first

Threw me down grapes to miss and scatter

And have to hunt for in sweet fern and hardhack;

Which gave him some time to himself to eat,

But not so much, perhaps, as a boy needed.

So then, to make me wholly self-supporting,

He climbed still higher and bent the tree to earth

And put it in my hands to pick my own grapes.

"Here, take a tree-top, I'll get down another.

Hold on with all your might when I let go."

I said I had the tree. It wasn't true.

The opposite was true. The tree had me.

The minute it was left with me alone

It caught me up as if I were the fish

And it the fishpole. So I was translated

To loud cries from my brother of "Let go!

Don't you know anything, you girl? Let go!"

But I, with something of the baby grip

Acquired ancestrally in just such trees

When wilder mothers than our wildest now

Hung babies out on branches by the hands

To dry or wash or tan, I don't know which,

(You'll have to ask an evolutionist).

I held on uncomplainingly for life.

My brother tried to make me laugh to help me.

"What are you doing up there in those grapes?

Don't be afraid. A few of them won't hurt you.

I mean, they won't pick you if you don't them."

Much danger of my picking anything!

By that time I was pretty well reduced

To a philosophy of hang-and-let-hang.

"Now you know how it feels," my brother said,

"To be a bunch of fox-grapes, as they call them,

That when it thinks it has escaped the fox

By growing where it shouldn't on a birch,

Where a fox wouldn't think to look for it.

And if he looked and found it, couldn't reach it.

Just then come you and I to gather it.

Only you have the advantage of the grapes

In one way: you have one more stem to cling by,

And promise more resistance to the picker."

 

One by one I lost off my hat and shoes,

And still I clung. I let my head fall back,

And shut my eyes against the sun, my ears

Against my brother's nonsense; "Drop," he said,

"I'll catch you in my arms. It isn't far."

(Stated in lengths of him it might not be.)

"Drop or I'll shake the tree and shake you down."

Grim silence on my part as I sank lower,

My small wrists stretching till they showed the banjo strings.

Why, if she isn't serious about it!

Hold tight awhile till I think what to do.

I'll bend the tree down and let you down by it.

I don't know much about the letting down;

But once I felt ground with my stocking feet

And the world came revolving back to me,

I know I looked long at my curled-up fingers,

Before I straightened them and brushed the bark off.

My brother said: "Don't you weigh anything?

Try to weigh something next time, so you won't

Be run off with by birch trees into space."

 

It wasn't my not weighing anything

So much as my not knowing anything

My brother had been nearer right before.

I had not taken the first step in knowledge;

I had not learned to let go with the hands,

As still I have not learned to with the heart,

And have no wish to with the heart nor need,

That I can see. The mind is not the heart.

I may yet live, as I know others live,

To wish in vain to let go with the mind

Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me

That I need learn to let go with the heart.

 

- Robert Frost

Still a lot of water in the lake at this time. June 9, 2018.

The lake is stiff mud out to the trees still. The rains haven't started yet, it should be happening soon.

In the shallow water of the lake, The snow and ice beat this plant down. Also known as steeplebush and hardhack, it needs a very wet environment. This is a wet environment, the lake recedes in the summer, But, water is below the surface of the ground.

- Unknown -

 

From my parents' huge and beautiful garden, where one can spend forever photographing without getting tired ; )

 

My album of more beautiful flowers:

www.flickr.com/photos/ranveig/sets/72157625066910220/

 

...and more beautiful insects:

www.flickr.com/photos/ranveig/sets/72157625067003400/

 

The grass hangs in there, but dies back. And the seasonal lake fills up in the fall through the spring.

Everything in the wetland is flowering, except for the grasses. The water from the winter is still fairy deep. We won't have any real rain until the fall, the wetland shouldn't dry out this summer.

When the lake is full, waterproof boots are needed to get here.

Still some salal berries hanging out. Not many bears around anymore to eat the berries.

Wetland plants,Spiraea douglasii fills most of the lake, to the trees.

 

Shrubby Cinquefoil is a very common plant here. I always think it has quite a pretty flower centre. Actual flower is much smaller than seen here, of course : ) Seen at Jim Coutts' homestead, just north east of Nanton, south of Calgary.

 

talkaboutwildlife.ca/profile/?s=1152

Spiraea douglasii, or hardhack, is a deciduous plant that thrives in a wet environment.

In the deep water zone. The mud out here is very moist.

This part of the wetland lake is pretty dry now. The rains should start soon.

The second rain storm overfilled the lake.

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