The Season of the Buckeye

buckeye2This is the time of year when the California Buckeye (Aesculus californica) earns its name. Named for the rather large seed pod they drop that resembles the eye of a deer, they are now easily found on the trail.

When they shed their covering they reveal a rich brown colored seed pod (see pic). Pacific Horticulture has this to say about the pods: “Though thoroughly inedible (unless leached of their toxins, as the Native Californians did), there is something irresistible about this seed, looking as if it had been carved, lacquered, and polished; few can resist picking up one or more, often pocketing them to be brought home for a show-and-tell with family or friends.”

Get them while they’re hot.

The Mistletoe Tree

mistletoeThere is a tree on the Overlook Trail that I’ve dubbed “The Mistletoe Tree”. This is because it harbors several clumps of the parasitic plant, and at elevations where it would be easy enough to pluck a sprig to hold above one’s loved ones for a kiss.

Wikipedia says that “It is associated with Western Christmas as a decoration, under which lovers are expected to kiss. The reasons for this are less than clear.”

But then who needs a reason?

Being parasitic, mistletoe penetrates the host tree to steal water and nutrients. Mistletoe typically does not to lead to the demise of the host, except in extreme infestations, but large clumps may lead to the loss of a limb. The University of California has more information on mistletoe as well as how to control it, but here on the Overlook we let nature take its course as much as we can.

 

 

Winter Is Coming

fernglenFor the first time on the trail today, I noticed that the ferns are coming back. At the place I call Fern Glen, on the trail that connects the Montini Preserve with the Sonoma Overlook Trail, they are shooting up fairly quickly, in response to the off-and-on light rains we have had recently (see pic).

This is very nice to see. It’s a sign that we are getting enough moisture to renew plants such as these which rely upon dampness. As is probably quite obvious, winter is coming. It’s just nice to see the weather signs that indeed it is.

So the Summer Ends as it Began…

lateseasonflowers…with flowers.

I was rather astonished, after a very long and dry summer, to see a flower blooming alongside the Sonoma Overlook Trail. Really, I thought? After seeing the meadow grass blasted completely past brown into a stark grey in the long summer drought, I couldn’t imagine what would possess a flower to bloom. But there it was.

With bright orange-red blooms, it stood out in stark contrast to its brown and grey surroundings. What were the conditions that could enable this to happen at this point in the year, I wondered? How could it survive, let alone make such a flagrant display? I’m not sure that I will ever know, but I was thankful, and I gladly climbed the short way up the hill from the trail to document its courageous and unexpected existence.

Later that day, rain began to fall. Actual, serious, rain. Welcome rain. But the flower existed before the moisture. It had made its play for existence and attention when there was nothing left upon which to draw. When the soil had been sucked dry. When all of the other flowers had long since gone down to dust and desiccation. When clearly, all hope should have been lost.

But it wasn’t. And seeing this, and understanding its message, I took heart once again.

End of Season Star Thistle Report

endofseasonEarlier I posted about starting the yearly battle with Yellow Star Thistle (YST). YST is an invasive non-native weed that left unchecked can take over entire meadows (it does not do well in shade). The University of California has this to say about it (in part): “Seed output can be as high at 30,000 seeds per square meter, with about 95% of the seed being viable soon after dispersal. Most seeds germinate within a year of dispersal, but some can remain viable in the soil for more than 3 years.” This is an opponent that is difficult to over-estimate.

Volunteers are trying to eradicate this plant all over California every summer, as we certainly do here at Jack London State Park (thank you Linda Felt and other volunteers!) and on the Sonoma Overlook and Montini Preserve properties. So we are now in the second year of a relentless 5-year campaign to completely eradicate this scourge.

Starting in mid-May, even before it was blooming, I began pulling it on my hikes on Overlook and Montini. Since then I’ve been putting in several hours every week pulling it up by its roots and hiking it out. When tackling a large patch I take a large plastic sack, but recently on the Overlook Trail I have been finding so little (see the picture of a recent haul) that I haven’t bothered to take a bag. Over the summer I’ve racked up at least 30 hours of pulling — not counting the time to get to the locations.

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Before the battle.

Last year we did such a thorough job on the Overlook Trail that this year it took much less time to keep it in check. The Montini Preserve was another matter, as we hadn’t been checking it last year (it opened to the public in November). I found several significant patches and one really bad patch (see the “before” picture to the left, it covered the entire area pictured and beyond). I was able to get the smaller patches under control with some diligence, but the really bad patch has taken many hours of work spread out over weeks. Only today did I finish clearing this patch (see “after” picture). It’s sweaty work, and raised blisters on my hand even with a glove.

I can now report that as far as I can tell, YST has been effectively removed this season from the main parts of the Montini Preserve and the Sonoma Overlook Trail.

after

After, August 2nd.

One morning recently I arrived at the really bad patch on the Montini Preserve with three large plastic sacks that I intended to fill, as I had several times before. I surveyed the patch that I had been working on for weeks and saw everything that still remained. I thought about giving up. I had made a lot of progress and I thought we could get it all next year. Why not just quit? No one would know.

I took another look around.

Then I stooped down and began to pull.

Call it what it is — an obsession.