Lighter Fare - The Garden's Doing Great

 

This fat king bolete showed up in the back last week and I quickly snatched it before the little worms that share my taste for boletes showed up.  This is one of the easy to identify and one of the best for eating.  Below is a picture of it sliced.  There's a lot of mushroom here.  I grilled a couple pieces and stir fried the rest with garlic and onion.

Of the flowers I planted from seed this year, the bachelor buttons were the first to bloom.  New ones are opening up daily in a set of beautiful colors.  The daisies are perennials that come up on their own.

Thalactrum, or meadow rue  The aphid love these plants, but this year I've been hand watering and using the hose to get the aphids off each morning.  The plant does fine with a strong enough spray to get rid of the aphid that cluster massively.  Here's a 2015 post which shows aphid larvae on this plant.  

If this is not a mutinus elegans, it's certainly one of its close relatives.  It showed up in the front yard this morning.  

"MushroomExpert.com

Mutinus elegans, M. caninus, & M. ravenelii

[ Agaricomycetes > Phallales > Phallaceae > Mutinus . . . ]

by Michael Kuo

Stinkhorns frequently bewilder people by popping up in lawns, thrusting their slime-covered tips into the world within a matter of hours. They have been much maligned over the years, probably because--well, because they stink and they often look like penises (human, canine, or alien). Unlike other mushrooms, the stinkhorn distributes its spores by applying an odorous, spore-thick slime to its tip, which flies and other insects are attracted to. The flies then carry the spores to other places."

I made a seaweed bread recently.  

And the tomatoes are flowering.  The trick now is for the tomatoes to set and grow.  I was advised to tap each of the flowers so they would self pollinate.  This one's in the outdoor greenhouse and while there are lots of way for bees to get in, it's not as exposed to those outside.  These are subarctic tomatoes that are more likely to fruit in Alaska.  

Shaggy Manes - Late September/Early October Gift From Nature

 On my bike ride Saturday, I noticed a patch of lawn where shaggy mane mushrooms had just pushed up out of the ground. 

Shaggy manes turn black when they're past their prime and become inky.  So I was concerned about all the black.  But it turned out to be dirt they'd pushed up as the erupted into the world from underground.  There were probably a couple of dozen in this area.  And it was public land so when I chose a few good ones, I wasn't poaching.  In the pictures above and below here, you can see why they are called shaggy.  

So I continued my bike ride and stopped back to get some mushrooms.  

Here they are, ready to be cleaned. 

Cut up.

And then cooking.  

With a little garlic and onion in butter (a rare treat in our house), they're delicious.  With the second batch I scrambled some eggs in with them.  

To me, these mushrooms are like a free gift from nature.  You just have to come across them at the right time, and they're yours to pick and enjoy.  

"What's the point of living . . ."

 Here are a some pictures from recent bike rides.  

This is a tunnel under a road I go on my main bike ride.  As I ride into the dark it takes a second for 
for my eyes to adjust and I have to be careful because sometimes there's someone sleeping in there.  The first graffiti, if it's hard to read, says, "What's the point of living if there isn't any fun?"  The second one says "I don't want to die without any scars."   (You can click on the image to enlarge it.)

Goose Lake, from this point, changes every day.  

Across the parking lot from Goose Lake is a ball field.  This morning as I came by people were carrying their folding chairs for what looked like church services.  They seemed to be sitting distanced, but I didn't really want to get closer to find out details or check on how many had masks.  

After I got home I made the frittata and as I sliced the mushroom, I loved the pattern.  

There's so much to write about, but I don't seem to have the time to say something that hasn't already been said.  This sort of post is probably better for people's mental health anyway.  

Mushrooms And The Buses - More Denali Pictures

 Here are some more pictures from Denali - the Alpine Trail and the Healy Overlook Trail.  

This was the Alpine trail.  Nature's a pretty good landscape artist.  

I'm not sure what these black mushrooms are, but they're pretty cool.  

I think these are puffballs.  

Ever since I read Richard Wright's  The Overstory, I realize that 'rotting' log just doesn't convey the process of giving back life that trees do after they die.  They're homes and food to untold species from small mammals, birds, and too many insects to even think about.  And then they give back all their nutrients and atoms for other trees and plants to use.  "Rot" has too negative an image.  And this is why we compost most of the food scraps from the kitchen.  Watching the compost heap full of scraps and leaves and other green plants slowly turn into rich compost - a factory of worms and all sorts of little critters - transforming the 'waste' into new plant food reminds me every year  that nature doesn't need humans to sustain the planet.  

Best as I can tell from my mushroom field guide is that these tan fungi poking up out of the ground like fingers are possibly strap coral mushrooms or pestle coral mushrooms.  

I just liked the look of this clump of tree trunks on the side of the trail.  

And when we got to a road we thought (correctly) was a shortcut to our car, we passed the bus lot.  It would appear that they are using a lot few buses this summer, even though they are only allowing half as many people on.  We had no interest at all on a bus ride with strangers for hours and hours.  But if this were my first and probably only trip ever to Denali National Park, I might have thought differently.  

There was another row of buses to the left and another to the right.  

Late August Colors

 

Getting Out Safely - Trip To Portage

We've been mostly homebound since we got back to Anchorage early March.  There was a masked trip to the doctor that week for a COVID-19 test that the State nixed.  Then a follow up to get tested for other things, that all turned out negative.  Since then the only places I've been 'inside' is our house and car.

I order groceries online for curbside pickup.  Same with library books and at Title Wave.
My outings are reserved to our yard and my bike rides which are on a route that sees no more than 5-10 others on the trail in a 6-9 mile roundtrip ride.  And we've had no visitors.  We have a carpet sitting in a warehouse that was supposed to be installed in March, but we didn't want anyone in our house for two days.

So yesterday was our first trip out of town. (The last gas receipt I have is for October.)  It was raining when we left - which I hoped meant we'd see fewer people.

I was taken aback by all the traffic.  This is one of the most beautiful rides in the world, even on a rainy day.  But all the traffic, some construction,  and the low visibility dimmed my pleasure.  Lots of RV's and boats.

I get that camping is healthy outdoor sport, but we have a virus and our state active case numbers are rising rapidly. We've got 1503 active cases as of today, more than double the 718 we had two weeks ago on July 10.  If you try, you can minimize your contact getting outdoors, but how many are distancing and masking when they encounter others?  Based on people I see on the bike trail, not many.   People take risks all the time, so COVID-19 is just one more risk to many, like smoking or driving down the Seward Highway.  Both of those also involve endangering others.

When we turned onto the Portage Road the traffic ended for us.  We pulled in and walked the trail through a variety of landscapes just off the road.

Devils club from below (above) and from above. All shiny from the rain.

There are still some hanging glaciers up on the tops of the mountains.

At one point I  was  photographing  these brown birds on the chance I could identify them later ( haven't had yet).  I heard some sneezing.  That wasn't good.  We'd only seen a couple people - well away from us in the campground.  We had been on the trail about 90 minutes and these were the first others we had encountered.  We pulled up our masks and proceeded.  There was a couple around the bend, in their 60s or 70s maybe.  She pulled up a mask when she saw ours.  But the sneezer didn't have one.  I was pissed at him, but the serenity of the hike wasn't disturbed and I had no interest in stopping to tell him how I felt about him sneezing maskless on the trail.   I assumed enough time had passed since he'd sneezed that gravity and the rain and our masks would protect us.  They only other person we saw even somewhat close was the campground host who came by to tell us day hikers should not park in the campground.  I was disturbed again that he was going around giving people papers to sign without a mask.  Since we were leaving, he never got closer than ten feet or so.  

                          

I get it that I'm on the extreme isolation side of the COVID-19 response spectrum.  I have that privilege because I'm retired, I have a house and yard.  But I also monitor Alaska's COVID-19 count daily on this blog (see tab under the orange banner on top) and I'm acutely aware of how our active cases have doubled in the last two weeks to 1503.  That's not a lot compared to other states, but those states had low numbers once too.  

The ride back home was easier.  The traffic was coming in the other direction.  That's tricky on the Seward Highway where people get impatient behind bulky campers and pass where they oughtn't.  But we had a car ahead of us to block any impulsive drivers.  (I realize that's a pretty grim form of defensive driving, but on that mostly two lane road out of town with more than its share of head on collisions, it's a coping mechanism.)  

We stopped briefly at Potter Marsh, but didn't stay long.  It was windy and we were ready to get home and have dinner.  But we'd had a great day and a reasonably safe outing.  

The Trees And Other Plants Ignore COVID Or Maybe Revel In An Altered World

Birch

Do the trees know what's happening?  There are reports of wild animals exploring human spaces lately since people aren't around.  There are reports that the air is cleaner than it's been for a long time.

Even if the trees don't know about COVID-19, they must sense that things are different, just as the animals do.  My recent post on the book The Overstory  goes into the idea of how trees sense things and communicate with each other goes into the idea more deeply.  I recommend it.

This post stems from starting to spend more time in the yard, raking leaves, collecting branches, checking on what's out there.

Birch

Cottonwood

Shelf Mushrooms 

S 

Spruce

The last snow/ice was gone yesterday

From Alaska Public Media:

“The forest and nature are the therapist, and I will help guide us in having an experience,” Kruger said.
To have this experience, you don’t need to be in an altered state or believe in any particular doctrine or ideology. You just have to be fully in the moment — out here with a tangle of blueberry bushes and a thick canopy of hemlock trees and spruce.
There’s science to back this up. Outdoor mindfulness can lead to lower blood pressure and less stress hormones, among other benefits. In Japan there are even dedicated trails for spending therapeutic time outside. It’s part of the national public health system.
The Japanese expression for this translates to “forest bathing.” But it’s a practice you can do fully clothed, bundled up in a jacket, gloves and a hat.