Close Encounters of the Equine Kind March 23, 2015

A few weekends ago, I arrived to find someone leaning against my horse fence on Route One and snapping a few photos of the pasture view across to the Inverness Ridge.  It was an artist who was scoping out a place for her collective, the BayWood Artists, to meet for a day of plein-air painting in preparation for their next Point Reyes National Seashore Association exhibition. I said, “Certainly, I’m happy to have you paint here.” What a treat for me!  

Two weeks later she set up her easel and paints, and before long the horses came by to see what was up. One of them was particularly persistent, nuzzling against her, threatening to sample the oils on her palette, and I, in turn, took a few photos of the two of them.  She said it was one of her happiest moments painting. Excellent!

Finally the Chocolate Lily March 9, 2015

On the day following my previous post, my wildflower-keen friend and I hiked the big loop from Muddy Hollow Road through White Gate and Estero Trails. It was another exciting day for wildflowers, with literally thousands of Douglas irises greeting us along the way, as well as well as beach strawberries, morning glories, and some of the flowers we had seen on Chimney Rock. A few poppies poked their way through the ground, the cow parsnips were on the cusp of opening, and we spotted a single blue violet as we neared the end of the trail.  I was eager to see what would emerge over the next few weeks.

This past weekend, I dragged another friend – a wildflower-spotting reinforcement as it were – to take the Inverness Ridge – Bucklin – Bayside loop. Once again, we were deluged with colorful blooms, many of the ones noted the weekend before, but quite a few new ones, too, including bleeding heart, dwarf bramble, milk maid, and forktooth ookow (what a clunky name for such a gentle blossom!).  We took photos of a half-dozen yellow flowers that we simply could not identify on the spot, and later failed to find in my guidebooks.

And then, within the final mile of the hike, my companion, who by this time was well-trained to pause at every new species encounter, said, “What’s this?”  And there it was – the chocolate lily!  It was tucked into a shaded area, all alone. We inspected it, nabbed a photo, and celebrated our find with a glass of wine.

Wild about Wildflowers March 1, 2015

My fifth grade teacher, Ruby Stauffer, loved wildflowers. Mrs. Stauffer lived in the countryside of southeastern Pennsylvania, and it seemed that everything we kids learned that year was somehow filtered through the lens of these delicate plants, from sexual reproduction to art and presentation. The year culminated with a visit to Mrs. Stauffer’s home and a tramp through her local woods to inspect, collect, and catalog the local beauties - Jack-in-the-pulpit, May apple, forget-me-knots, mountain laurel, and trillium – as we tried all the while to avoid an encounter with poison ivy. Back at home, wildflowers were ironed between pages of wax paper for preservation, descriptions were written in our best cursive, covers were made with block letters cut out of black construction paper, and all of these sheets were bound together by round-headed brass fasteners. I will never forget working on that project, hovering over the round, orange table in my bedroom on a sunny Saturday afternoon, cooled by the white-and-black striped awning that shielded my open bedroom window, and listening to the sounds of other kids playing outside. 

All this is to say that there is a special place in my heart for the humble wildflower, and I look forward to its appearance after the winter rains of Northern California.  Last week’s “Park Wavelengths” announced the arrival of chocolate lilies at Chimney Rock, so I convinced another wildflower-keen friend to join me for a weekend of spotting and photographing the early spring blooms. I downloaded a list of 120 species (!) of early spring flowers sighted at Chimney Rock over the past 20 years and grabbed the plastic-coated identification guide I had picked up at the Bear Valley Visitor Center.

Rain was forecast for Saturday, and as we drove through the bend in Sir Francis Drake, just north of Inverness, gigantic raindrops hard-plopped onto our windshield and sunroof.  But within a few miles, we emerged from the grey zone to a brilliant blue sky and dry land under foot.  Our short hike took us first to the edge of the westward cliffs, where we spotted families of elephant seals with their new young, waddling to keep up with their mothers and emitting little squeaks.  One little guy was so tiny (from our vantage point), that I held my breath while an enormous male passed by him. 

The big winners at Chimney Rock were Douglas iris and checkerbloom, and at first we thought that might be all there was to see.  But soon we found many other species: Indian paintbrush, blue-eyed-grass, blue larkspur, buttercups, mules ears, wallflower, wild cucumber, field chickweed, seaside daisy, and the low lying and aptly named footsteps of spring. Indeed, for a single day on a small patch of earth, quite an exciting variety, except the chocolate lily (also known as mission bells).  Ah well, perhaps another day.