A Winter Wind

The wind whipped into a frenzy yesterday, racing across the country and blowing fierce cold air into New England. The oak leaf still holding fast was tossed about like a cowboy on a bucking bronco.

The rock polypody living on the cold, north side of the boulder
is curled against the weather.

Meanwhile, a short distance away,
other polypodies bask on a warm, south-facing rock.

Yesterday my walk in the woods with Bella was a sloppy mess - the ground unfrozen, air temperature above freezing, after rain had fallen on top of six inches of snow. What a difference a day makes. Today the temperature is stuck in the 20s. With winds gusting to 35 mph, the wind chill is a chilling 12F.

Friday last week capped a week of temperatures in the 50s and 60s. What a difference a week makes.

One year ago today we were without power, after a major ice storm knocked down trees, limbs, and utility lines. We have no wood stove. By Saturday last year the thermometer in our kitchen read below 50F. We were desperate to find a generator. One of our neighbors loaned us one for three hours so we could get our house up to 60F before they reclaimed the generator. On Sunday, after 3 1/2 days without power, we found a generator (my brother bought one for us at a Home Depot south of Boston - none were available in New Hampshire). The exact moment that we plugged it into our power supply, the power was back. At least we are prepared for the next storm, which could come any time.

The clouds are building as I write - snow is on the way, although predicted to be just a dusting. Reminds me of a cartoon though, where someone is calling the weather-caster to come over and shovel off six inches of "partly cloudy."

Before the clouds rolled in, I stood next to a winterberry bush in the brisk wind, soaking up the sun's warmth under a clear blue sky - the beauty of winter.

One Less Junco

As I was tapping away on my laptop this morning, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. As I looked out at the falling snow, a gray hawk was suspended in midair in front of the feeders, its tail and wings spread broad. A second later it swooped down to the ground about 30 feet away.

The bird -- an accipiter -- set about plucking feathers. An hour later, after surveying the dining spot, I determined that we had one less junco in our yard.

Remains of the Junco
(click on photo to enlarge)

We watched the accipiter feed for an hour. Steady snow and screens on the windows blurred our vision some, yet we could still see its reddish barred breast, gray head and back, and banded tail. This was a Cooper's or a sharp-shinned hawk, but which one. My first thought was a male Cooper's hawk, because it was not the bigger female Cooper's nor the smaller male sharp-shinned. But could it be a female sharp-shinned? As all the bird guides note, these two birds - male Cooper's and female sharp-shinned - are very difficult to distinguish.

After a half hour, the accipter paused to rest. I thought it was finished, but after 10 minutes it resumed feeding. This gave me time to set up the spotting scope and focus in on its features. After peering at the bird, looking at several bird books, and reading Tricky bird IDs: sharp-shinned hawk and Cooper's hawk at Project Feeder Watch, I concluded that our accipiter was a female sharp-shinned hawk. Here is why:

• Square tail -- clearly seen while it was feeding on the junco; Cooper's have a rounded tail
  
• Reddish color below eyes and around to "cheeks" -- this is a lighter color in Cooper's
  
• Relatively small head and beak
  
• Broad chest - center of gravity high; this was particularly evident when it was resting between meals and facing us
  

Both Cooper's and Sharpies are known for their regular visits to bird feeders. In past years a Cooper's hawk has swept in for a meal or two. We are happy to add a sharp-shinned to our yard list of bird diversity.

New Windows

A turkey vulture soared over nearby fields as I was on my midday walkabout today with Aria and Bella. This seems a tad late for this bird to be hanging around our area, but then again there is this thing called climate change...... In the woods the big pines were having a one-way snowball fight, lobbing wet blobs of snow, big and small, to the ground. Back at the house we are replacing nine windows with more energy efficient ones - better glass, better fit, more wrap to prevent leaks.

All this, plus the Copenhagen Climate talks just underway, got me thinking about energy. If I were to change careers I think it would be something related to energy (this might not be a random thought). This past week I also received my "personal" email from the Rocky Mountain Institute co-founder Amory Lovins, touting their next big thing - Reinventing Fire. No small task. They plan to do this, in large part, by tapping into the "the two biggest motherlodes of energy, efficiency and the Sun," according to Lovins.

We are nearly totally dependent on fossil fuels for heating and running our house. A part of reinventing fire should include reinventing home building and renovation, at a scale and cost that works for the average homeowner. Sad to think that the entire mortgage crisis and housing collapse relates to houses that are probably neither efficient nor self-reliant on alternative energy.

We are tapping into the Stimulus Plan for our window renovation - a tax benefit on the cost of the windows. I do not know if these one-time programs, such as cash for caulkers, are a good thing for the environment or the economy. Why are we not just making high quality, energy efficient goods to begin with? Surely it is because it costs more. Yet, people spend money on all sorts of frivolous things. Maybe by saving more, we could afford to buy better-built and longer-lasting highly efficient stoves, washers, windows, houses, and such.

Okay, the sun is not out today so I am going to ponder energy efficiency. Although right now one of my front windows is out while our carpenter prepares the opening. With temperatures barely above freezing, energy efficient we are not! If only the sun was out.

White Dawn

Moonset

Began last eve,

wet snow fell fast.
Lit by the headlamp,
strobe lights flashing
before my eyes.

Four inches of heavy snow,
a white blanket covers the earth.
The drone of snowplows
heard through the night.

Waning gibbous moon above,
white, wintry carpet below.
Gray birches burdened by past storms,
bend lower, tips reach for the ground.

A gentle wind stirs the tree tops.
The tall pines, bathed in first light,
sway slowly, as birds wake.

Sunrise

An Old Spice

The two rows of cilantro in the garden are still green and fresh into early December. This week, under warm skies, even a burst of growth. Wind swept oak leaves provide a thin layer of mulch.

We use cilantro - the leafy part -- as a garnish, mostly in Indian dishes, but also on pasta sauce and enchiladas (anything with tomato sauce). The seeds of the cilantro plant are known as coriander, and, ground into a brown powder, are a central ingredient in Indian spice mixes (masalas). Fresh cilantro can be used in place of parsley, its relative within the carrot family Apiaceae, or instead of basil (in pesto).

Cilantro arrived in Massachusetts before 1670, by way of the British and the Romans (who carried it around Europe). I assume that the more mild-tasting parsley rose in popularity among our early settlers, bypassing its more aromatic cousin. I don't recall cilantro or coriander ever appearing in a cookbook of New England recipes.

Cilantro, Coviandrum sativum

The leafy cilantro, being a hardy annual, is easy to grow from seed. It takes a while to germinate, so give it time. It is best picked fresh as an aromatic garnish. The round, ridged seeds can be purchased whole and ground into a fresh spice to use in most any bean or dal-based dish. Cilantro and coriander, although from the same plant, have completely different flavors.

The origin of this now widespread spice is thought to be the Mediterranean region. Its use, in food and medicine, dates back thousands of years. Jill Norman's beautiful, The Complete Book of Spices: A practical guide to spices and aromatics, offers a brief history and photos of spices in all their forms, including cilantro, the old spice.

Our main "Indian spices" --

black mustard seeds in the middle,
Clockwise from bottom left --
urad dal, cumin seeds, turmeric,
coriander powder, fennel seed, cumin powder

Rock Tripe

In the nearby Oaklands Town Forest, huge boulders lie strewn about by the hand of the last glacier. Named for the many red oaks that grow in this undulating woodland, it could also be called boulderlands, so prominent is this feature. Covering many of the biggest boulders is rock tripe, or as French Canadians might call it tripe de roche, meaning "rock guts."

Huge boulders covered in rock tripe
at Oaklands Town Forest, Exeter, New Hampshire

This green (above) and black (beneath) lichen grows slowly on the steep sides of boulders and cliffs. From afar it looks like a bunch of dead leaves glued to the rocks like an art project. Up close it resembles a bed of leathery leaf lettuce. Rock tripe soaks up moisture from their air; during dry periods it becomes brittle. Regular rain this fall has kept trails muddy and the rock tripe moist and pliable.

Being a lichen, rock tripe is a partnership between a fungus, which gives form and color, and an alga, which cooks up the meals for the pair through photosynthesis. The Latin name for rock tripe, Umbilicaria mammulata, stems from its single point of attachment to the rock -- similar to an umbilical cord. Hence the other common name for this species, navel lichen.

A large, tortilla-sized rock tripe;
note the "navel,"
its point of attachment to the boulder

Rock tripe can be considered an extreme food, eaten only in an emergency. Many are said to have eaten it when starvation was the alternative -- Washington's troops at Valley Forge, Canadian trappers, Franklin's expedition to map the Northwest passage through northern Canada. Unless cooked carefully, it is known to cause cramps, or worse, and may be on par nutritionally with old shoe leather. Native peoples used it to thicken broth. Rock tripe is not to be confused with the other tripe - the lining of cow stomachs that can also be eaten, but also with much care in its preparation.

Another use of rock tripe, among other lichens, is as a dye. In an article, Local Color: Finding Wild Sources for Dye in the Forest in Northern Woodlands magazine, Allaire Diamond writes about Anne Williams who maintains a lichen dye bath in her garage. Anne ferments rock tripe in a solution of ammonia and water for 12 months to get an intense purple dye. She recommends how to harvest the tripe with care, mostly taking only the "leaves" that have sloughed off the rock.

Walk up to the nearest tripe-covered boulder and gently pull on one of the leathery disks. The rock tripe is attached like super glue, but pulling too hard will break the umbilical cord. Best to leave the tripe to continue its slow growth on these giant boulders.

Blog Carnivals

I submitted a post to my second blog carnival in November, via the Nature Blog Network. Until you step into the tent and join the fun, you do not realize all the amazing stories, poems, tales, people, and places to be discovered by following the threads that emerge in a carnival.

My first carnival entry was a A Not so Clever Nest, sent to I and the Birds carnival #100. One of my favorite trees is the eastern hemlock, which I wrote about here, just as Dave Bonta was soliciting submissions for the Festival of the Trees #42. Dave is a "poet, editor, and shutterbug from the eastern edge of western Pennsylvania," who writes at via negativa, and The Morning Porch, and other places, and lives in Plummers Hollow.

Dave, as host of the the current issue of the Festival of Trees, gathered, organized and presented the collection of posts related to this carnival theme. Click here to read his compilation, and follow the links wherever they take you. This carnival, thanks to Dave and his online literary works, opened a porthole for me to a whole new world of creative writing. I look forward to exploring the festival links and reading Dave's daily musings from his morning porch.