We knew they’d be here. Up on Cripden Down, Dartmoor, England: fields of English bluebells. In bluebell woods, pixies might lure you from the path, but on the open moor, bracken—a thug of a native fern—breaks the sea of blue and presumably distracts the pixies. Continue reading “Up Cripden Down (England)”
Spring Beauty is supposedly the world’s most plentiful wildflower. Our front and back yard saw an explosion this year, for some reason. We’ve pounded the earth with our detours to the car, the mailbox, the Sugar Maple dog chain, and still, they bloom. And bloom, and bloom. Spring Beauty has been open for weeks. It is an equal-opportunity nectar source. Though it closes at dusk and during any cloudy spell, it spreads its petals wide to admit all comers.
Ha lachma anya, from the haggadah at Passover seders. Let all who are hungry, come eat. Continue reading “Spring Beauty 2014”
There isn’t much Firepink on the Mossy Ridge Trail, at least not on the little section we frequent. Maybe 3 plants up the hill and one below. This year, I discovered the common name, Catchfly. It certainly does. Catch flies. My bright photo shows the bodies of many hapless insects stuck fast in the sticky stem, buds, leaves and flowers.
The guide books say Firepink’s hazards preference pollinators which fly rather than crawl, because the former are more efficient. The latter merely take nectar without taking or leaving pollen. Firepink is not an equal-opportunity nectar fest as is say, Spring Beauty, which lays a spread open for all.
Beware all ye who crawl here.
Someone has finally begun to move in to Izzy’s bluebird house. It stayed vacant all last year.
Izzy made the house in spring, when we chanced upon a program at Warner Park Nature Center. He trailed a group of children headed toward what turned out to be a planned project near the pond. A volunteer had cut cedar pickets into bluebird house panels, photocopied the plans, and even provided rebar and galvanized pipe to make a pole. The kids took turns with too few hammers, and Izzy managed to cobble together a house. The teen who loaned his hammer had quite a cold: at one point the reappearing snot rope stretched to a couple of feet before he snuffed it back in. I worried we were borrowing more than just his hammer. Continue reading “Chickadee Nest, 3/23/13”
SIDEWALK NATURE 