Last Sunday the forecast was iffy, with possible showers and high wind gusts predicted, so I had to shake a leg and get moving earlier than I would have on a sun filled day. As the puddles in this photo of the old logging road that starts this climb show, it had rained the night before. It has been very dry here so the rain is welcome.
I chose High Blue trail in Walpole because of the forecast. It’s an easy and relatively quick climb and I know it well. I was hoping the showers would hold off, and they did.
Before you know it you’re in the meadow. I met a porcupine here last year but I didn’t see him this time.
I did see some orange hawkweed (Pilosella aurantiaca) though, and I was happy to find it because it’s something I don’t see much of. Yellow hawkweed is far more common here. Orange hawkweed is native to the alpine regions of Europe, so apparently it likes high places. If you look at the flower over on the left you’ll see a tiny crab spider pretending to be orange like the flower.
Crab spiders can change their color to match the background, but I think this one went a little heavy on the red. They change color by secreting pigments into the outer cell layer of their bodies and I wonder if they carry a whole case full of different colored pigments along with them. This one needs to mix in a little yellow to get the desired orange, I think. I’ve seen white, yellow and purple crab spiders but never red or orange.
I don’t know what kind of spider this one was, but it was living in a buttercup and it had a visitor. I don’t know the visitor’s name either, but it was able to balance on the edge of a petal.
Then all of the sudden the visitor was gone. I don’t know for sure where he went, but I can guess.
An eastern swallowtail butterfly appeared to be sunning itself on the edge of the meadow. It let me take 3 photos and then flew off.
There are places where the bedrock thrusts up into ledges and some of the biggest rock tripe lichens (Umbilicaria mammulata) that I’ve ever seen grow on them. They look like green rags hanging from the stone. These were very pliable because of the previous night’s rain. If you want to know what they felt like just feel your ear lobe, because they feel much like that, only thinner. Rock tripe is edible and eating it has saved the lives of people who were lost and starving in the past.
I put my new camera above one of the rock tripe lichens so you could get an idea of their size. The camera is about 2 X 3.5 inches and though it looks like it was on that’s just a reflection on the viewing screen.
This camera is hopefully going to replace the Panasonic Lumix that I’ve used for years. The Lumix was a great camera that took macro photos better than any camera I’ve owned, but it finally gave up the ghost after taking many thousands of them. Since you can’t get that version of the Lumix any longer its replacement is a Canon Power Shot ELPH 180. The jury is still out on its capabilities. I’ve noticed that it gets confused and can’t find the subject occasionally but it took all of the macros and close ups in this post, so I’ll let you judge for yourselves. I need to put it through its paces a bit more, I think.
The eriophyid mite Acalitus fagerinea produces erineum patches on American beech that look and feel like felt. In fact the definition of erineum is “an abnormal felty growth of hairs from the leaf epidermis of plants caused by various mites.” The patches can turn from green to red, gold, or silver before finally turning brown. They don’t cause any real harm to the tree but if you had a copper beech as an ornamental they could be unsightly.
I finally stopped dawdling and reached the summit to find that the view was hazy as I expected. But at least the clouds were casting deep blue shadows on the hills, and that’s something that I had hoped to see on my last climb of Hewe’s Hill in Swanzey. I could just make out the shape of Stratton Mountain, off across the Connecticut River valley in Vermont, on the left. It’s easier to see in winter when it has snow on it.
I sat and watched the cloud shadows race each other over the hills for a while like I remember doing as a boy. This view is to the west and the clouds coming toward me were beginning to darken and stack up, and the wind had started gusting enough to make the trees creak and moan. This spot is always windy even on a good day, so I decided it was time to be on my way.
But first I wanted to see the pond to see if it was covered with duckweed like it was last summer. It wasn’t covered yet but the tiny plants floated along the shoreline. It also had a lot of tree pollen floating on its surface. The tree and grass pollen has been bad this month because we haven’t had much rain to scrub it out of the air, and allergy sufferers are having a hard time of it.
Last year the duckweed all disappeared from this pond and readers told me that it sinks to the bottom in winter, and comes back in spring. So far it seems they were right.
I swished the end of my monopod through the duckweed and came up with these plants. Each plant has 1 to 3 leaves, or fronds, of 1/16 to 1/8 inch in length. A single root or root-hair grows from each frond. Many ducks eat duckweed and carry it from pond to pond on their bodies. I suppose if you had it in a home pond the only way to control it would be to scoop it out with some type of net. It does flower and makes seeds, so chances are good that you’d have to do it at least once a season for 2-3 years.
I saw several native pink lady’s slippers (Cypripedium acaule) growing near the pond but all but one had lost its blossom, maybe to a hungry deer. This photo shows a view of the hole at the top of the blossom that insects need to crawl out of to escape the pouch after entering through the slit down its middle front. There is another hole just like it on the other side, so they have a choice. Downward pointing hairs inside the pouch prevent them from crawling back through the central slit, so forced to exit through a hole they get dusted with pollen.
I decided to take another side trail through what I’ve taken to calling fern gully; there was one more thing I wanted to see.
The fern fronds dancing back and forth in the wind were mesmerizing and I could have sat watching them for a while if the swaying, groaning trees hadn’t quickened my step.
I wondered if the dinosaur and coins would still be there on the quartz ledge and they were. I don’t really know anything about them but I like to think that a child was thankful for what nature had shown them and wanted to give something back out of gratitude, so they left their favorite toy and their allowance money. At least, that’s the story that has written itself in my mind.
Close your eyes and turn your face into the wind.
Feel it sweep along your skin in an invisible ocean of exultation.
Suddenly, you know you are alive.
Thanks for coming by.