Fungal…

Shelf fungi, known for their ecological role and unique physical features, hold significant cultural and practical importance in Native American traditions, medicine and art.

Overview

Shelf fungus, also known as bracket fungus, comprises various species of polypore mushrooms that grow on trees, logs, or branches, forming shelf-like structures. These fungi are integral to forest ecosystems, functioning as decomposers that break down the cellulose and lignin in wood, facilitating nutrient cycling. They possess a hard, woody basidiocarp — the fruiting body — which can persist for years. The spore-producing surface is typically on the underside, featuring numerous tiny pores where spores are released. Shelf fungi are diverse, with species ranging from saprophytic to parasitic, some contributing to tree diseases like heart rot.

Hint: click image for larger view. Ctrl/+ to enlarge / Ctrl/- to reduce

Poetically Fungal

Shelf fungi captivate me with their silent tenacity, perched like wooden sentinels on forest guardians. Their presence is a reminder of nature’s cycles, breaking down the old to nourish the new. Each time I spy their intricate layers and earthy hues, I’m reminded of life’s layered complexities. They are nature’s artists, painting decay with a purposeful brush, turning fallen timber into rich soil. To me, they symbolize resilience, a testament to thriving in place, despite the odds. In their quiet existence, they echo the beauty of transformation, an emblem of life’s perpetual motion within the stillness of the woods.

Natively Fungal

The relationship between Native Americans and shelf fungi is rooted in a profound understanding of the natural world, where every element has a role in the cultural and practical life of a community. Shelf fungi, with their sturdy, shelf-like projections from trees, have been an integral part of Native American tradition, utilized for both medicinal and practical purposes.

Medicinally, various tribes recognized the healing properties of certain shelf fungi. The Iroquois, for example, used bracket fungi in poultices to treat wounds and swelling. Other tribes found uses for shelf fungi as anti-inflammatory agents or as a means to stop bleeding, embracing the fungi’s natural anticoagulant properties.

In everyday life, the unique physical properties of shelf fungi lent themselves to multiple uses. The Piptoporus betulinus, commonly known as the birch polypore, was carried by the Otzi the Iceman, a natural mummy dating back to over 5,000 years ago, likely for its antiseptic properties and as a means to carry embers due to its ability to smolder without flame. This hints at a broader prehistoric and indigenous use of fungi for fire carrying.

The tinder fungus, a type of shelf fungus, was particularly valued for its ability to hold a flame. Native Americans often used this fungus to transport fire between camps. They would hollow out a section of the fungus, fill it with hot embers, and cover it to create a portable and long-lasting source of fire. This was an essential technology for survival, especially during long treks or in adverse weather conditions.

Moreover, the Ganoderma species, commonly referred to as the Artist’s Conk, served as a canvas for art. These fungi have a white pore surface that darkens when touched. Native American artists utilized this characteristic to etch drawings and messages, turning these fungi into storytelling and communicative tools.

The profound connection between Native Americans and shelf fungi illustrates a deep ecological wisdom where even a simple fungus is interwoven into the fabric of cultural and survival practices. This symbiosis underscores the importance of every organism within an ecosystem, a lesson that resonates with contemporary efforts to understand and preserve our natural world.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved http://www.MichaelStephenWills.com

Dam Pond

Fillmore Glen Autumn

As the season of harvest waned to the deep, fiery heart of November, I found myself beneath the boundless expanse of heaven’s azure, wandering the untouched expanses of the wilds. The sun, in its unwavering journey, cast its gaze upon the earth, illuminating the realm with a clarity that seemed to transcend the ages. It was upon such an afternoon that mine eyes beheld a vision of yesteryear’s industry, a relic from a time long since passed into the annals of history—an ancient dam and pond, nestled in the forest.

The water, a mirror to the sky, held within its embrace the autumnal celebration of the maples. Leaves, flames of red and gold, lay scattered upon the surface, drifting languidly atop the pond. Amongst this mosaic of nature’s final flourish, green tendrils of algae weaved patterns, as though the very spirits of the forest sought to lay claim to the waters with their verdant touch.

Hint: click image for larger view. Ctrl/+ to enlarge / Ctrl/- to reduce

The trees, mighty sentinels of maple, stood in grandeur around the pond, their boughs heavy with the weight of the season. Their leaves, caught in the throes of change, were painted with the brilliant hues of yellow and red, a testament to the time when the earth itself becomes an artist of unrivaled skill.

And there, frozen in the midst of this tranquil domain, stood the gears of the mill race, once alive with industry’s hum, now silent and immobile. They reached towards the heavens, their shadows etched upon the pond below, as if in a final, defiant stand against the passage of time.

Such a sight, in the clear, sunny afternoon of this November day in the year 2511, spoke to me of the enduring dance between man’s creations and the relentless, reclaiming hand of nature. It was a scene that stirred within me a profound reverence, a sense of communion with the generations that had walked these woods before. Here, in this hallowed place, time seemed to pause, allowing me a moment of solemn reflection in the ceaseless flow of eternity.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved http://www.MichaelStephenWills.com

Golden Paths…

Fillmore Glen Autumn

Within Fillmore Glen, as autumn unfurls its vibrant tapestry, there lies a path that seems to exist between the pages of an unwritten folklore. It is a trail not marked for travel, bearing a solitary sign, “Not a trail. Do not enter,” which stands like a silent sentinel amidst the riot of colors. Yet, the path stretches on, an irresistible lure, a golden ribbon that meanders through the heart of the wood, carpeted with leaves that have taken their final, graceful descent to create a mosaic of reds, oranges, and yellows.

Hint: click image for larger view. Ctrl/+ to enlarge / Ctrl/- to reduce

The path is a secret thoroughfare, known only to the whispering trees and the shy creatures that watch from the underbrush. The air here is thick with the scent of damp earth and the musk of decay that heralds the deepening of autumn. It is a place out of time, where the distant sound of falling water is a constant undertone, a reminder of the unseen river that carves its way through the glen, its voice rising and falling with the wind.

The leaves that blanket the path rustle with the passage of unseen feet—perhaps the fox, or the silent owl that hunts at twilight. The golden footpaths are corridors of light, as the sun filters through the thinning canopy, casting long shadows and illuminating patches of the forest floor with a warm, amber glow.

Here, one’s footsteps become a part of the glen’s own rhythm, a soft tread upon the sacred ground. The sign’s warning goes unheeded by the whispering woods, which seem to beckon with a voice as old as the hills, inviting the soul to wander and to wonder. In Fillmore Glen, the path is not just a physical journey but a passage through the soul of autumn itself, a dance with the ephemeral, a fleeting embrace of the golden, transient beauty of the fall. It is not merely a place to walk; it is a path to feel, to breathe, to exist in harmony with the quiet pulse of the earth.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved http://www.MichaelStephenWills.com

Woodland Shelters…

Here we have the harmony between humans and nature, represented through woodland shelters like lean-tos and birdhouses. It portrays these shelters as spaces of coexistence, mutualistic masterpieces blending function, form, and aesthetic in nature.

…on the Dam Pond at Fillmore Glen.

Hint: click image for larger view. Ctrl/+ to enlarge / Ctrl/- to reduce

…vines running free.

In the dappled sanctuary of the woodlands, where the rustle of leaves is a constant whisper and the breeze carries the secrets of the earth, there lies an unspoken harmony between the realm of the rooted and the realm of the roving. Here, the art of shelter is not just necessity but poetry—a dialogue between man and nature, bird and branch, leaf and sky. It is in the woodland shelters—those humble lean-tos and the charming birdhouses—that this conversation finds its most enchanting expressions.

A lean-to, a simple structure, a slant of sanctuary against the embracing trunk of a venerable oak or the crook of a steadfast pine, rises like an ode to minimalist refuge. It is both a testament to human ingenuity and a bow to the grandeur of the forest. Constructed from the very bones of the woods, with limbs that have fallen in the last tempest’s dance, it is clad in the textures of the wild—a tapestry of bark, a patchwork of leaves. It does not impose but rather suggests, whispering, “Here, rest awhile, where the earth holds you and the canopy cradles the sky.”

Within this woodland embrace, the lean-to is the hermit’s haven, the hiker’s pause, the dreamer’s alcove. It is the place where one can commune with the murmur of the brook, the chitter of the squirrel, and the silent flight of the owl at twilight. It is here that the smoke of a small fire mingles with the mist of dawn, where stories unfold to the rhythm of the crackling embers and the forest listens.

And what of the birdhouses, those quaint dwellings that pepper the woodland tableau? They are not mere shelters but the grand stages for the aerial ballet of wings and the morning serenades of feathered minstrels. Each is a mansion of possibility, an invitation etched in wood and lovingly placed among the boughs. They are the outposts of avian dreams, where the pulse of tiny hearts beats in time with the dripping of rain and the warmth of the sun’s caress.

The birdhouse is a symbol of the generosity of the woodsman’s spirit, a gift to the skyborne, a token of respect to the delicate denizens of the firmament. Here, the chickadee, the finch, the nuthatch, and the wren find respite and nurture the next generation of sky dancers. Each hole is a portal to a home, each perch a threshold to the warmth within, and every departure and return is witnessed by the vigilant trees, the silent sentinels of the forest.

Lean-tos and birdhouses, these woodland shelters, are the chorus of the sylvan symphony, the unseen chords that bind human to habitat, life to life. They are proof that in the quiet places of the world, where humanity treads lightly and the wild holds sway, there can be a beautiful coexistence, a mutualistic masterpiece painted on the canvas of the wilderness. They stand as symbols of the beauty that arises from the marriage of function and form, purpose and aesthetic, the innate and the crafted.

In the woodland shelters, there is a rhapsody played in the key of nature—a song of simplicity, of connection, of the perpetual dance between the earth and its many children. It is here, in the lean-tos and birdhouses, that the heart of the woods beats strongest, beneath the watchful eyes of ancient trees and the endless sky.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved MichaelStephenWills.com

Backlit

Ferns, ancient plants with unique reproduction strategies and ecological significance, adapt to diverse environments while contributing to overall biodiversity and human culture.

In the vast tapestry of the plant kingdom, ferns occupy a unique and enduring place. These ancient plants, often overlooked in favor of their flowering counterparts, have a fascinating and seemingly eternal existence that spans millions of years. Ferns, with their lush green fronds and distinctive reproductive mechanisms, offer us a glimpse into the enduring legacy of life on Earth and the remarkable adaptations that have allowed them to persist through the ages.

Ferns belong to the group of plants known as Pteridophytes, which evolved more than 360 million years ago during the late Devonian period. Their evolutionary history predates the appearance of flowering plants, making ferns some of the oldest living organisms on our planet. This remarkable longevity raises the question: how have ferns managed to survive and thrive for so long?

One key to the success of ferns lies in their unique reproductive strategy. Unlike flowering plants that produce seeds, ferns reproduce via spores. These small, dust-like structures contain the genetic material necessary for ferns to reproduce. When mature, ferns release spores into the environment, where they can be carried by the wind or water to new locations. Once a spore finds a suitable environment, it can germinate and develop into a new fern plant.

The spore-based reproduction of ferns is not only ancient but also highly efficient. It allows ferns to colonize diverse habitats, from moist, shaded forests to arid deserts. Additionally, ferns can form extensive networks of underground rhizomes, which are creeping stems that give rise to new fronds. This vegetative propagation further contributes to their resilience and adaptability.

Ferns have also developed a range of adaptations that enable them to thrive in various environmental conditions. Some fern species, such as the resurrection fern (Pleopeltis polypodioides), can endure extreme desiccation. When conditions are dry, these ferns curl up and appear dead, but they can quickly revive and unfurl their fronds when moisture returns. Backpacking through mountainous Arizona wilderness I encountered small ferns growing in the shade of rock ledges, maybe this was Phillips Cliff Fern (Woodsia phillipsii). My guide called it “Ridgeline Fern” and claimed it was important for desert survival, could be eaten in extremis situations. This remarkable ability to withstand drought and promote human survival is a testament to the tenacity and usefulness of ferns.

Another intriguing aspect of ferns is their mutualistic relationship with mycorrhizal fungi. These fungi form symbiotic associations with fern roots, aiding in nutrient absorption and enhancing the fern’s ability to thrive in nutrient-poor soils. This partnership has likely contributed to the fern’s ability to colonize a wide range of habitats and compete with other plant species.

While ferns have proven to be resilient survivors, they have also played a crucial role in shaping Earth’s ecosystems. Ferns are often early colonizers in disturbed or newly formed habitats, and their presence can help stabilize soils and create conditions suitable for the establishment of other plant species. In this way, ferns contribute to the ecological succession and overall biodiversity of ecosystems.

Beyond their ecological significance, ferns have captured the human imagination for centuries. Their delicate and intricate fronds have inspired art, literature, and even garden design. Many garden enthusiasts cultivate ferns for their ornamental beauty and unique charm.

In conclusion, the eternal life of ferns is a testament to the remarkable adaptability and resilience of these ancient plants. Their longevity, dating back millions of years, serves as a reminder of the enduring nature of life on Earth. Ferns have evolved unique reproductive strategies, adaptations to various environments, and mutualistic relationships that have allowed them to persist and thrive. Whether they are serving as pioneers in newly formed habitats or gracing our gardens with their elegance, ferns continue to capture our fascination and enrich the natural world. Their legacy reminds us of the intricate and interconnected web of life that has persisted on our planet through the ages.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved MichaelStephenWills.com

Among Fallen Leaves

The red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit plant play a key role in seed dispersion, wildlife sustenance, and fueling its energy storage organ, the corm.

As the crisp air of autumn settles in and the leaves begin their spectacular transformation into hues of red, orange, and yellow, the forest floor comes alive with a myriad of hidden wonders. Among these wonders, the Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) stands out for its striking red berries and the role they play in the fall glory of the woodland ecosystem. In this essay, we will explore the beauty and significance of these red berries and how they are intrinsically linked to the plant’s corm.

The Jack-in-the-Pulpit, a native perennial herbaceous plant of North America, is known for its distinctive appearance, featuring a hood-like structure known as the spathe and a tall, slender stalk called the spadix. It is during the fall season that the plant’s fascinating red berries make their appearance, contrasting vividly against the backdrop of autumn’s colors. These berries are the result of a process that begins in the spring, when the plant first emerges from its underground corm.

Throughout the growing season, the Jack-in-the-Pulpit devotes its energy to producing these striking red berries, which serve several important ecological functions. The red berries are not only visually appealing but also function as a means of reproduction for the plant. They contain seeds that, once mature, can be dispersed to establish new Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants. These seeds are often transported by animals that consume the berries, such as birds and rodents, which then disperse them in their droppings, contributing to the plant’s spread throughout the forest.

The bright red color of the berries is a key feature that attracts birds, making them an essential food source during the fall and early winter months. Birds like thrushes, cardinals, and robins are known to feed on the Jack-in-the-Pulpit berries, aiding in seed dispersal while benefiting from the nutrient-rich fruits. This mutualistic relationship between the plant and its avian dispersers showcases the interconnectedness of the forest ecosystem, where each species relies on the other for survival and propagation.

The significance of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit’s red berries extends to the corm beneath the surface. The corm serves as an energy storage organ for the plant, helping it survive through the harsh winter months when the above-ground parts of the plant wither and die. During the fall, as the plant directs its energy toward producing berries, it also transfers nutrients to the corm, ensuring its vitality and readiness for the following spring.

Furthermore, the corm itself can serve as an energy reserve for the production of future berries and the growth of new shoots. As the plant enters dormancy, it relies on the stored energy in the corm to fuel its growth when conditions become favorable in the next growing season. In this way, the corm and the red berries are intricately linked, with the berries representing the culmination of a year-long process of energy accumulation and reproduction.

In conclusion, the red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit are a captivating and vital component of the fall glory that graces our woodlands. Their vibrant color and ecological role in seed dispersal highlight the plant’s contribution to the forest ecosystem’s richness and diversity. Moreover, these berries are a testament to the interconnectedness of nature, as they are not only visually stunning but also an essential food source for wildlife. As we marvel at the beauty of fall and explore the wonders of the natural world, let us take a moment to appreciate the significance of the red berries of the Jack-in-the-Pulpit and their role in the intricate web of life that surrounds us.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Right Reserved MichaelStephenWills.com

Hayrolls

Haymaking, an ancient practice of harvesting and storing feed for livestock, faces modern challenges like climate change and urbanization.

Dry grass gathered for winter feed on Durfee Hill.

Click image for a larger version.

Haymaking, the age-old agricultural practice of harvesting, drying, and storing grasses and leguminous plants, has been central to sustaining livestock throughout history, especially during seasons when fresh pasture is not available. This practice, rooted in necessity and refined by tradition, embodies the intersection of human ingenuity with the rhythm of nature.

Origins of Haymaking

The origins of haymaking can be traced back to a time when early agricultural communities recognized the need to store feed for animals during lean seasons. While the exact timeline of its inception is hard to pin down, ancient texts and artifacts suggest that the process of drying and storing grass as hay has been practiced for millennia. Early haymaking was predominantly manual, relying heavily on the natural process of sun drying.

The Process of Haymaking

Haymaking usually begins with mowing, the act of cutting down the grass when it has reached its peak nutritional value, just before or as it starts flowering. After mowing, the grass is left on the field to dry, a process known as ‘tedding’. The drying process is crucial as it prevents the growth of mold and bacteria which can spoil the hay and make it unsafe for consumption.

To facilitate even drying, the cut grass is often turned over, or ‘tedded’, using specialized equipment or manually with pitchforks. This ensures that the moisture from the bottom layers of the grass is exposed to the sun and air. Once dried, the hay is raked into rows to prepare for the final stage of baling. Baling involves compacting the dried hay into bundles, making it easier for transportation and storage. Over the years, bales have evolved from simple tied bundles to more compact and uniform shapes, thanks to modern machinery.

The Importance of Haymaking

Haymaking is more than just a routine agricultural activity; it’s a lifeline for livestock farmers. Properly made hay provides essential nutrients to animals like cattle, sheep, and horses during winter months when fresh grass is scarce. Moreover, for dairy farmers, the quality of hay can directly impact the quality and quantity of milk produced.

Furthermore, the economic implications of haymaking are significant. A successful haymaking season can mean the difference between a profitable year and financial strain, especially in areas heavily dependent on livestock farming.

Modern Advances and Challenges

With the advent of technology, the haymaking process has seen numerous advancements. Modern machinery, from mowers to balers, has made the process more efficient, reducing the time and labor required. Advances in weather prediction tools have also assisted farmers in choosing the optimal time for haymaking, maximizing the chances of getting dry weather which is crucial for the process.

However, haymaking, like many agricultural practices, faces challenges in the modern era. Climate change and its resultant unpredictable weather patterns pose significant risks. Unexpected rains during the drying phase can severely affect the quality of hay. Moreover, urbanization and changing land use patterns are reducing the available land for hay cultivation.

Conclusion

Haymaking, as an agricultural practice, exemplifies the human endeavor to harness nature’s bounty for sustenance. From its ancient origins to modern implementations, it remains a testament to the farmer’s deep understanding of the land and its cycles. In a broader sense, haymaking underscores the importance of preparedness, of looking ahead and planning for the future, a lesson that resonates well beyond the confines of agriculture. As we face contemporary challenges, revisiting and valuing such practices can offer insights into sustainable and harmonious living.

P.S. Reader BigSkyBuckeye offered this insight, “Having lived many years in rural, ranching communities, one sees the lifeline of hay for winter feeding of cattle. One important note–most ranchers separate their stacks of bails with some distance, so a lightning strike doesn’t consume every bail.”

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

more Jennings Pond II

A gathering autumn glory

I described Jennings Pond to Pam and we returned together. Here is a photographic essay from that day, one of a series.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

more Jennings Pond I

No Swimming!?

“Jennings Pond,” is a song, celebrating swimming.

Here is a photographic essay on the subject of swimming at Jennings Pond this October afternoon.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved

Gorge Stairway

when the elms blazed a glorious yellow.

Click any photograph to visit my Online Gallery

A staircase leading to the Fillmore Glen Gorge

on a perfect October evening

when the elms blazed a glorious yellow.

Filled with Golden Elms

Fillmore Gorge is full with slippery elms.

The constant infall of the gorge keeps these trees small.

Once a year, for a few days, all the elms turn at once. We were lucky to visit at the perfect moment.

The elms blaze yellow for a day or two, early October.

Copyright 2023 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved