Shelf Esteem



The Chicken of the Woods, or Sulfur Shelf, or Laetiporus sulphureus, just two days before harvest.   

At first the weather was rainy, cool. Then it dried out, but cloudy. Then it got hot and humid (for Minnesotans). And then, although we thought we could make due without, came the violent thunderstorms on the evening of our last day . Under green-grey skies, oaks thrashing about, Betsy stood with short knife, at the ready. This was her find, and she felt responsible for its dry harvest, but the fear of windfall limbs in a rotting wood put a damper on feet raring to go. We watched radar and sky, waiting for the cleft between storms, and dashed into the woods. While Betsy cut, I scanned the treetops, listening for the creak and the crack. All the while she had the presence of mind to leave some of the L. sulphureus intact so that it could spore out. 

 The harvest under the eerie green of fluorescent lighting.

 A cut across the mushroom, a section, reveals an even, creamy yellow grain and brilliant orange skin.

Its yellow "polypore" underside helps distinguish this find from last year's L. cincinnatus, which has a white underside. Both are found on hardwoods (particularly oak) east of the Great Plains, but L. sulphureus is more likely to be found in an overlapping shelf formation on a downed log, as was this one. Incidentally, this Sulfur Shelf was found about 75 feet from last year's.

Hard to miss why it's called a Sulfur Shelf, although there's no telling its purpose. 

Laetiporus sulphureus is a wood decomposer, not a ground-fruiting mycorrhizal fungi enjoying a symbiotic relationship with tree roots. A Sulfur Shelf is known as a brown rot fungus, meaning it breaks down the cellulose of the tree, leaving the brown lignin behind. It is generally not good if you see one on a live tree, but necessary for the decomposition of a dead one.

I read that one should cook a Sulfur Shelf before it is eaten, but I ate quite a number of tender slices raw with no apparent ill effects. This one was not like last week's tender Shelf, having a thick stem appearing to make it more "woody." Despite this, we ate the whole cut, minus the actual wood. The shelves were tender, while the thick stems were quite edible too, but would have served better in a soup or stew, or even a cream sauce, to soften them up. We ate them sauteed on the day of cutting, with some left over. What remained, traveled with us to Iowa in a brown paper bag. I sliced garlic, sprinkled salt, and drizzled xv olive oil on the sliced mushroom. Then wrapped in aluminum foil, it was grilled on the fire at our campsite. Even better than the first night.



Last Chance Mushroom



Isn't this beautiful? Delicate gills in cool salmon pink.

 Is it an oyster?

An old Dryad's Saddle.

Unknown.

Remember these from the other day.

 Poking through.

Fascinating, nameless.

Pretty sure these are young oysters, sprouting two weeks after I found these in a different corner of the woods.

Translucent, seemingly lit from within.

And on the very same log, four feet down, a new Chicken of the Woods.


Many Happy Returns



Today will be our last full day in Minnesota. We are watching a growing Chicken of the Woods, one of the kind we found last year, with hopes to eat it tonight. It will not travel. My camera has died, or more specifically, it has finally been put down due to the E18 error -simply, dirt in the lens mechanism. Who should expect dirt in the lens mechanism? A blogging gardener.

Our trip is never long enough, so full of house repair, car repair, it is never all done. I drove the Ford 8N for the first time. Wow, me on a tractor. I get ideas. I'd like to go canoeing on one of the lakes before tomorrow, but that is seeming less and less likely -I should be doing that, not internetting at the coffee shop.  Tomorrow, am, we head out towards Iowa. Taking the scenic route, passing Laura Ingalls Wilder place, destination Seed Savers Exchange headquarters and farm. Camping on the Volga River, then a visit to the University where I will have an exhibit next winter. After that, we rocket home in our trusty minivan, which will turn 170,000 this return trip. Here's to reliability.

What will the gardens hold in store for us upon our return? Will do my best to find out before my return to work. Happy Fourth, but then, happy first too.


A Word On Mushrooms



Prolific.

The coral mushrooms have been in great abundance.

 And this one the greatest size. Perfect.

 A fuzzy ear. 

I found a cache of oysters, but the recent rains and a day too late had me leave them for the flies.

 Then some more.

Have you seen oysters with frilly edges?

No loss, really, because we then hit the edible jackpot. Small, but clean, no bugs, and delicious. I ate some raw -it was perfectly tender. Sauteed as well, with butter. More than the flavor, its texture was like chicken.

 These were a fantastic find, bright white in the dark woods.



An interesting slime mold on decaying wood.

Which then sprouted these fungal growths.

Near the slime mold grew these little pink-salmon rounds.

I'll have to check back in on them to see how they've grown.



I think the two above are the same -young Chinese Snow Fungus, Tremella Fuciformis.

Orange mushrooms in the dark.

Some particularly fine-colored Turkey Tail, Trametes versicolor.

We had a hope that these, a field if little white fingers, were the holy grail of mushroom hunting. No, not morels, chantarelles, or any other such edible. What then?

Phosphorescent mushrooms. Rex and Betsy had seen glowing mushrooms one night, years ago, in the woods of his old place. Alas, these were not. At least not yet.



First Walk



The weather has been odd, on again off again raining, sometimes cool, sometimes almost tropically moist. We arrived in the evening after three days of travel, two nights of camping, one stop at Allerton State Park in Illinois (post later). First thing, after morning coffee, was to hit the woods to get reacquainted.

Betsy investigating the vernal pond for tadpole activity.

 
Garlic Mustard, as prevalent here as anywhere east.

One thing we had noticed was the cottonwood seeds. While driving, literally, like a snowing.

Rex's humor litters the woods, and betrays his awareness that several neighbors travel his trails.

It refers partially to this.

Jewelweed grows in some locations near the wetlands woods boundary.

Any idea what this plant is, growing in shady woods, growing about 18 inches tall?

These are the leaves.

And, any ideas on the name of this fern, the predominant fern of these deciduous woods?

The small wetland has standing water, which I have never seen at this time of the year.

It has been a very snowy winter, and wet spring, as many of you know from the reports from Mississippi River towns, and now Missouri River towns. Here, at our place in the Big Woods, the excess rain results in constant sump pumping and a brook-like flow in drainages that are normally dry by now.  The drainage burbles. Or is it babbles?




First Walk



The weather has been odd, on again off again raining, sometimes cool, sometimes almost tropically moist. We arrived in the evening after three days of travel, two nights of camping, one stop at Allerton State Park in Illinois (post later). First thing, after morning coffee, was to hit the woods to get reacquainted.

Betsy investigating the vernal pond for tadpole activity.

 
Garlic Mustard, as prevalent here as anywhere east.

One thing we had noticed was the cottonwood seeds. While driving, literally, like a snowing.

Rex's humor litters the woods, and betrays his awareness that several neighbors travel his trails.

It refers partially to this.

Jewelweed grows in some locations near the wetlands woods boundary.

Any idea what this plant is, growing in shady woods, growing about 18 inches tall?

These are the leaves.

And, any ideas on the name of this fern, the predominant fern of these deciduous woods?

The small wetland has standing water, which I have never seen at this time of the year.

It has been a very snowy winter, and wet spring, as many of you know from the reports from Mississippi River towns, and now Missouri River towns. Here, at our place in the Big Woods, the excess rain results in constant sump pumping and a brook-like flow in drainages that are normally dry by now.  The drainage burbles. Or is it babbles?




What I Won't Miss



I had  a week of with some Echinacea.

And one of my lilies has bloomed just in time for me to see it.

A weed here and there, but gracing my garden nonetheless, Achillea millefolium.

Feral Cat, Felinus painintheassus, loves the side yard, everything about it, including the cold frame.

BAT


Or the Borage Aphid Trap.

Recently I noticed that the aphids have been attracted to the borage which has self-seeded around the garden.

This particular plant, in the front yard, between the asters and the rose, is hosting quite a colony.

It's worth clicking on the image for a super-sized photo of the small ants tending to their herd.

Same day, different bug. What is it?

Pitiful




I took the time to clear our three tree pits last week, having watched them fill with weeds, desirable and otherwise. There were flowers growing, some of which appeared quite cultivated. As I weeded, a young girl, maybe 7 or so, stopped to ask what one of the weeds in an uncleared pit was called. I said that I wasn't sure, maybe pennycress (Thlaspi arvense). She said, no -its' Shepherd's Purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris)! Ahh, I said, I think you are right and I better get you on my payroll. Her mother then stepped in to say how she had taken a class with the Wild Man, although she was a little concerned. We began talking about the weeds that I was pulling, and she implored me not to pull the plants that she had planted! OH, that's where those cultivated-type weeds had come from. She informed me that she had "seed-bombed," had I heard of that? Of course I had, as much as I've heard of the Wild Man. And so the reason there were peculiar flowering weeds in my tree pits was discovered. And the mother and daughter moved on and I continued to clear.

The next morning, Tuesday morning, my wife went out to plant some seeds in a tray that will eventually be transplanted to the pits. Why is Tuesday morning relevant?

It so happens that every other Tuesday, a small group of  NYers meet on a road in Prospect Park to pick up the trash. Read that story here, or here from the woman who started it all. Our last outing, on a warm, humid pre-summer morning, took us into the heart of the wood where the sex life of men is laid bare on the humus. I found it ironic, on that very morning, that I should find a freshly filled rubber and wipes in one of our three tree pits -the one I had just cleared of weeds the afternoon before. 



In an attempt to keep the tree pits cleared, I put stakes and twine around the edges (not seen here). Dog walkers leave the biggest nasty in the tree pits, followed by the local feral cats, and then the convenience trash.

So I put up a couple of pictographic signs, laser etched into laminated cedar shakes.

The knot in the shake is well placed, eh?

And today, a water truck came to pressure wash each pit. How nice.


Pea And Broccoli Pull



I pulled the broccoli and transplanted the remaining small plants to the fall-season broccoli bed. It was also time to pull the peas, although I was hesitant because they were still producing. But, it was now or never for the paste tomatoes, which were growing stiff and yellow in little pots. 

I was hungry, at the beach farm long after my intended stay, and I was fortunate to have every last snow and snap pea, and some pea flowers and leaves to feed on. As it turned out, the peas had become the target of aphids, which helped me feel better about pulling them.

Although I munched almost thoughtlessly, I noticed tiny, suspended eggs on one pod.

And then on a leaf, along with an aphid or two, more eggs. The peas had become a weakened host, and I was glad to let them go.


Moonlight Farm



I left my camera at the farm, although I took no pictures that day. I went to retrieve it around 10:30 pm, the moon full behind a veil of high clouds, but still enough to gently illuminate.


Urban Agway



When I first started going down to the beach farm via bus we noticed this colorful gas station.

They are a farm, as you can see they are growing collards or some other brassica in one of those tubs, and some other plants in the other tubs. They also sell plants on the racks.

And eggs, eggs that rocket out of the rears of hens in pain.


NYC Playgrounds Only For Kids And Moms

Read this account of a recent ticketing after eating a donut with a friend in a NYC playground.
Follow up story here. I guess playgrounds get considerably less safe with non-child raising adults around. Cops are well aware when they're racking up easy ones, and no greater opportunity for a bunch of easy ones are a few donut eating couples sitting on a playground bench.

Enforcement of the law requires discernment, not bluntly wielded objectivity. If I am breaking rules, unknowingly, it is up to the police officer to discern my intent. If I look like a drug dealer, pedophile, ask me for my ID. If I look like an ignorant donut eater, tell me to scram.

West Side Story



Not long ago, while stopping and going up the West Side Highway, I was struck by the weediness of the median plantings. It's no surprise that the plants have been suffering over the last few years. I recall driving by a summer or two ago and seeing roses and trees browned from drought and heat (how hard would it be to put irrigation in those pits (and if they have, why wasn't it working)). Then there's the salt spray from unending winter snows. So, the plants weaken, and without maintenance, the hardier plants move in. 

It's a nice idea, masses of ever-blooming roses, for drivers, but when the weeds fill in, it becomes compelling for this driver, and dangerous. I was glad to hit traffic, camera out the window, trying in vain to capture what I thought I was seeing.

See how the Mugwort and Wild Garlic add color and formal variety where previously there was none.



I cannot even tell if this grass was planted intentionally; it looks so weedy, but also atmospheric.

Can you see the wild garlic floating above? The roses on the retreat.

The Ailanthus, making its way back to favorite locations -hot, dry, with concrete.

But then, there is what appears to be Canada Thistle amongst the roses, adding harmony to the monotony.

There are swaths of still functioning Rosa monotona.

But, only for a half block or so.

Where monotones of Canada Thistle make headway.

When I see this, I think of the trees shading out whatever was planted here -that same, sun-loving grass? 

I suppose it could be like this, where maintenance is paid for, around new construction.

Or it could be like this -no doubt influenced by the Gehry building that the median fronts. By the way, does the Gehry building also require the cars that front it to be silver?


And Finally...



...The possibility for some rain. The side yard needs it, my hose does not reach it, and I won't try any harder than   wondering where the hell the rain is. Lightning, thunder, rain. Just not on the twelve blocks between the B and the home. But I've my umbrella if you must.