April: In like a Lion

April 1: 85 degrees, sunny and full of flowers.

April 2: 40 degrees, overcast and gloomy.


April 3 so far: 30 degrees, downright blizzarding out there. See above.

Not to say we can't use it! Especially welcome after last week!

And every flake... no, pellet that falls takes a handful of spring allergens with it. Or so we hope.

The goldfinches are gradually getting more yellow. Or is it just contrast with today's dull sky?

There will be Stories!

Catwoman and five of her charges arrived Monday night at 11:30 pm, refugees from the Lower North Fork Fire. We've had quite a week, keeping tabs on the TV news more than usual, watching the weather, and monitoring the Jeffco sheriff's blog for updates. Although her home is just on the edge of the evacuation zone, it's in a tight spot with only one way out, so leaving was the prudent option.

Not to mention that it takes time to catch all those cats, especially after catching the first one makes the others wary and downright panicky.

"There will be stories," she said as we talked over glasses of wine until Monday turned into Tuesday, and she had already shared a few from her harrowing evening. What do you take if you have limited time and only one car? What should you add if your friend kindly comes to help, giving you the chance for a second load? How long can you afford to spend packing? Sobering thoughts!

We've been surprised that having so many cats in the house—strangers!— has gone as smoothly as it has. The guests stay quietly in the guest room, and resident felines have barely noticed their presence. They know something's up, but on the whole, it's going great, and we're enjoying spending time with Catwoman.

About Wednesday, Catwoman came up with an addition to our list of seasonal harbingers. "When you hear slurry bombers overhead, it's a sure sign of spring!" In fact, it was this same time last year when we posted about the Indian Gulch fire near Golden.

At first it seemed everyone was surprised by the erratic nature of this fire. Reports went from 200 acres to 3,000 overnight, then jumped to 4,500. By Thursday, the official story had grown somewhat clearer, as we struggled to balance that version against disquieting word-of-mouth reports that were becoming more numerous and more compelling. Even the sad report of fatalities may be a two-sided story. It will be a while before it's all sorted out, no doubt, and, as one evacuated resident said on the news, it's important to be reasonable, and not rush to judgment before the facts are in. Despite hotspots of anger, we've been surprised how many people do seem to be taking a more measured or philosophical attitude. Even some of the 27 families who have lost their homes. Yes, there are things that perhaps should be done, or can be done in the future, but people also seem to realize that "it's the cost of living in a pretty place," as one noted.

Yesterday morning the responders finally announced 45% containment—great progress! That was upgraded to 70% last night, and 90% this morning. (See latest map.) They're keeping 500 homes on alert today though, because of high winds expected, so it seems the cats, at least, will be here a while yet.

——
The Husband pointed out the plume of smoke visible from the house about 5 p.m. Monday. It hadn't been there when I got home at 3:30, and of course, I never did think of the camera. I have no presence of mind.

Others do: Heart-rending video is available at YouTube: for a good look at the plume; more at time lapse, and Escaping the Fire, raw form, and edited with commentary and interviews.

Signs of Spring

This is like a guest post, only I couldn't talk anyone into writing it, so had to paste in tidbits from their emails to give you an idea what's going on here lately. Here's an up-to-the-minute report from the team of observers and correspondents out there, just like on the news. P.s.: there are flowers too, but not in this post!

From the Chemist:

I've been waiting for this sign for several weeks...the first baby black widow spider just made an unsuccessful crossing of my desk. I always get a hatch in my office about now. Generally I leave them alone and I think probably only one or so survives their cannabalism. They tend to occupy the same corners forever...hopefully (same, that is, not forever would be OK.) Cheers?

[Catwoman and I were crushed that he crushed the innocent little darling, but it seems clear that it would have lived, had it not been so indiscreet as to cross his desk.]

From Bee Lady and Flame, who recently returned from the South and west:

We had a great time in AZ, saw yellow eyed juncos, vermilion flycatchers, costa's hummingbirds, and lots of [California] poppies!

From Catwoman, who kicked these reports off back on March 21, 2012:

It's officially Spring, and so many animals are coming out of the woodwork here that I wanted to share some of the excitement!

Two pygmy owls began calling last week. I found a soft spot next to the driveway not far from the house to sit and listen for them. They call around dusk, and I had waited for a half-hour or so when I heard footsteps coming towards me that sounded like a person. It took four footfalls for me to turn my head and see the mountain lion that was only 20 feet away!! I said "oh s**t" in my head and jumped up and yelled something. The startled cat wheeled around and left lickety split. She didn't know I was there either...glad it was muddy so I could hear her coming.



This morning started with one pygmy tooting just before dawn. Ten minutes later, a half red-half black fox sat pretty in the front yard. On the way out, there was an all-black one hunting by the gate. And just after I got home, seven turkeys filed past the window!!

[Catwoman clearly has more aplomb afield than I would in such a situation. And her hearing is better! The fox story is another that should be told, but neither Catwoman nor I has the stomach for it.]

Catwoman also had an entire day of fame recently, when she won mention in the local Audubon photo contest but, sadly, finished out of the money. She was featured on March 8th for a photo related to this one, but you can check the other 249 featured winners at Share the View. Today's photo is particularly "striking." I hope you can figure this one out—really must get [her] around to blogging it sometime. Guesses, anyone? A great nature moment to share with kids.

If you get the impression I've been spending more time with Catwoman lately, you'd be right. That will have to be another story...

Spring-worthy Weather?

It's a truly glorious morning today, after days of hail, rain, tornado warnings, and other assorted delights. All of which (okay, some of which) have been deeply appreciated after our lack of serious snowstorms here in the lower foothills these last few months. Still some white on Mt. Morrison, but a rosy dawn and clear skies highlight the greening we have at last.

And, just this a.m., the most spectacular frost patterns we've had all winter, right there on my car windshield! On May 20th, such visions are ephemeral indeed!

Growing Up Pie, Part 1

The young couple who took up residence next door last spring are doing a little housekeeping. I see them refurbishing the nest in the Ponderosa Pine below the house, bringing a new stick or two where needed, or rearranging a bit here and there.

I think last summer was their first season as newlyweds. Being 100 feet away from the birdfeeders didn't hurt; they probably grew up here themselves and wanted to stay in the neighborhood.

Yesterday, I caught them in the garden, in flagrante delicto, and for 45 seconds or so, I was able to tell which was the male and which the female! Alas, the moment escaped the camera, but I think I know what's coming this summer. Clearly the "courtship" is over.

Usually I have a ringside seat from which to watch their efforts. Every once in a while, the view is obstructed.


A half-dozen or so local does and yearlings are recognizable now, but this gentleman is a stranger who wandered through in mid-March, intent on the does, no doubt. It's that time of year.

Setting Up Housekeeping

It was last April when these two Black-billed Magpies picked out our youngish ponderosa pine for their starter home. I guess it didn't occur to me to document the process until construction was well underway. If you are curious about nest-building details, the Watcher has, of course, covered magpie architecture.


All those trips back and forth carrying sticks can really work up an appetite. In April, one year ago today in fact, I buttered the bark of the ash tree out front with a suet dough concoction. It didn't take them long to discover and exploit this new food source.






Finally, about May 21st, the nest was complete. All was quiet well into June. Many more trips were made, bringing food to whomever was sitting. We suspected eggs, but never confirmed by direct observations.


Events continued to unfold, and finally the activity level rose, as did the noise. In mid-July, some grew impatient inside, and began waiting on the doorstep for food to appear. Growing up seems to involve a lot of waiting.


But mom or dad always managed to show up in time.




Kinda makes me glad we planted that tree, a bare-root seedling, back when we moved here ourselves as newlyweds.

Coming Soon: Part 2, A Raucous Summer

Suddenly Spring

By the time I started actively searching for signs of spring this year, it was well on its way!

I should have checked for Easter daisies (Townsendia cf. hookeri) on St. Paddy's Day (March 17th). I didn't get to my favorite patch until April Fool's Day, but they were chugging along just fine, and right where I expected them to be. You can see them, right?






How about now?

Some of our earliest spring wildflowers are well hidden—if you didn't know exactly where they are, you'd be hard pressed to spot them! Hidden in plain sight, right along one of our most popular trails in full range of unscooped dog poop, this patch of Easter daisies was still unobserved by 99% of passersby. Those who saw me with camera and dog weren't even curious about what I was trying to photograph.


How's this for an Easter bouquet?

The stemless Easter daisy can't help but look like an old-fashioned "posy" or nosegay, with all the flowers clustered at the base, obscuring a rosette of leaves that are, by themselves, easy to overlook. Without the burst of white color to draw the eye, these little guys don't suggest any dramatic display at all!

The early bees are having no trouble finding them, however.
















Equally cryptic are those who will bloom a bit later, now mere hints of beauty to come. Here, a feathery rosette of Lambert's loco cozies up to the glaucous blue basal leaves of one-sided Penstemon. Only by watching through the season would we know what they're going to be capable of producing!



The name of this bulb I planted long ago in the backyard popped back into my head this morning as I went out to take an updated photo. Siberian squill, Scilla siberica, naturalizes even here in the rugged and challenging West apparently.

I stand corrected, thanks to Nina at Nature Remains and depending on whether you're a "lumper" or a "splitter." This is, per the criteria at Wikipedia, Chionodoxa rather than Scilla. Hmmm... "Glory-of-the-snow." Think I like that better than "Siberian squill."

The few that I planted, probably 25 years ago now, before I knew better and when I still had gardening illusions, have now escaped the rock garden and carpeted even gravel waste areas in my none-too-well-tended yard. Blooming before the daffodils, they hint of things to come; however dry the season, they manage well enough on the residual soil moisture of previous snows and just ignore the hot dry season in dormancy.

Thankfully, they've not escaped the confines of the limited backyard area, as the grape hyacinths used to do before the chickens and deer ate them all. Although it may be fine in controlled shady lawn sites, the thought of deliberately planting it in wooded areas back East, as the garden websites seem to suggest, raises concern. I'm sure it'd be well able to outcompete native spring wildflowers, and I wonder whether it's ever considered invasive.

Also naturalizing, but more welcome, is this Yellow Prairie Violet, Viola nuttallii, happily blooming nearby in the same gravel area. Like the perennial bulbs, these natives thrive on the neglect provided by the absent-minded gardener, as well as the indifference of the season, which keeps forgetting to add moisture.

When is Spring?

The calendar tells us Spring "begins" on March 21, the spring equinox, but of course, the world works on its own schedule. Lately, we've all noticed, that schedule seems a little wacky.


In Colorado, as in much of the West, Spring is relative: it all depends on where you are, especially on how much vertical distance you've managed to put between you and sea level. In the course of the last few weeks, here at the Foothills Fancies homestead, we've jumped from winter into late spring in a hurry. Most of the early spring wildflowers are gone, and, judging from what's blooming, we're well on the way to summer. Sigh.


So when I went West to Talented Sister's on May 22nd, I got to visit an earlier version of Spring, places where the ground is just emerging from snow cover. She lives in the midst of Aspen and Gambel Oak woodlands on a high mesa in southwestern Colorado, very different from here. The up-and-down of the trip also gave me an opportunity to sample the varieties of season available now.

All this is too much prelude to an actual topic. Quaking Aspen (Populus tremuloides) and Gambel's Oak (Quercus gambelii) are both species that "reproduce" mostly vegetatively, forming huge clones of interconnected stems that look like individual trees. So how can you tell where one individual leaves off and another one starts? Because different clones respond differently to seasonal cues, Spring is often a great clue. It's a time of year when you can catch aspen, especially, displaying their individuality. (The oak wasn't displaying anything just yet.) How many, then, do you see in the photo below?


These photos were all taken in two quick stops along Hwy 62 as it crosses the Dallas Divide between Ridgway and Placerville. I'm thinking we're seeing at least three, maybe even five, individual aspen among the many trees present above. That is, of course, a wild guess totally unsupported by DNA evidence. Me, I was just there for the scenery.*

* Much of the scenery is, by the way, brought to us by Ralph Lauren, whose ranch, the Double RL, occupies 16,000 acres (that's 25 sq miles, people) and a good deal of linear footage along this route. It's nice when vast wealth benefits the rest of us. Thanks, Ralph! If you pass this way, you'll recognize Ralph's property by the tasteful 4-rail fence on the south side of the highway (see photo 2).

Such aspen clones are in the running for a world record, if not still holding. The Watcher, saving me a lot of time and trouble, tells us all about cloning and Pando, a giant aspen in Utah that's thought, so far, to be the world's largest organism, in his several posts on the topic. Wikipedia agrees, and so does Wayne's Word, though that site offers a few other contenders in the "most massive" category.

I especially appreciated these Sunday morning views in contrast to the previous evening, when I drove from Montrose to Sister's in a haze of yellowish gray smoke from the Beaver Fire near Norwood, caused by powerlines downed by the phenomenal winds that plagued my 580-mile trip that weekend. Another 3200 acres reclaimed for aspen, perhaps.


Fire is closely associated with aspen, whose cloning habit enables it to be resilient in the face of loss of its aboveground parts. Oak, too, abides below through fires. Scenes like this, with the light spring green and pale grey of aspen set off by darker grey of oak and conifers, depend on fire for the aesthetic pattern we find so appealing.


Of course, getting to see the San Juan Mountains in the background doesn't hurt either! Enjoy the view...

The Green Scene, and a Spring Surprise

Our season of green has arrived in full force, and greatly appreciated in part because it's so brief! For a day or two this week (especially Friday and yesterday morning when temperatures suddenly soared to 92 and 94F, or about 35C), it seemed like we were going to plunge straight from May into the middle of July. Clouds, a moderate wind, and a 20-degree drop into seasonable 70s yesterday afternoon salvaged a few more days in which to relish this shortest season.


As you may recall, we've been nurturing an unusual (for Colorado) vine here these last few decades, and it has, in other even-numbered years of recent memory, attempted to bloom. Third time's the charm, they say.


This year's promises, a vine extravagantly covered in buds, did not disappoint. And thus, after nigh 30 years spreading its tendrils and withes 'cross trellis and soffit, we have, for once, Wisteria.


I was relieved when the leaves began to catch up with the flowers, as the latter looked forlorn against a backdrop only of brown tangled branches. But now, ahhh...



No doubts about family here! Note, to the right, the stamens peeking from within the keel as the banner stands guard.*


Ummm... wish I could post the fragrance for you too!

——
Need a refresher on the Fabaceae? Courtesy Wikipedia, more details on this very flower, Wisteria sinensis.

Addendum: Since singing the praises of this critter far and wide, I've learned there are others in Colorado. But they're coddled in greenhouses and nurseries, or in town where there's ample water and shelter, not out here in the foothills, trying to make do on what nature offers and wracked by 50 mph winds. (In case you were wondering why it took so long to bloom! And yes, I'll try to coddle a bit more henceforth.)

Glorious Spring!

Are you as tired of that snow scene (below) as I am? I went away for a few days last week, and in my absence Spring has clearly sprung.


Look at that green! It doesn't rival Ireland yet, but tender green is peeking out on branches, daffodils are in full bloom, and things are definitely looking hopeful.

(Look at those chickens, waiting by the gate for breakfast...)

Today is the 40th anniversary of the very first Earth Day. As I did last year, I had thoughts of making April "Earth Month" and going to town on related posts. As with last year, I didn't get very far, but after all, Earth deserves more than a day—or a month. It should be in our thoughts, and especially in our actions, every day.

None of us needs a sermon today, but if you're reaching the Age of Wisdom, the Time of Reflection, think back to what you were doing 40 years ago today. Think about the feeling of Hope we had that what we did—for the cause of Peace, for the Planet, for Something That Mattered—would make a difference.

That feeling is what Earth Day was—and IS—about, and it's exactly what Spring is about! The world is waking up; we should be too.

This Morning and Recent Sightings

Yes, again. Why do I always seem to take pictures when it snows? I'm sure it's partly because the continued brown scene gets old, and then of course, snow means movement in the landscape as well as lots of activity at the bird feeders...

We have very fine stuff still drifting down this morning, and only about two inches on the ground. This follows days of boisterous winds, especially yesterday, which was enough to rearrange lawn furniture and anything else not firmly battened down. Winds like that quickly wear out their welcome, making even snow a great relief! Tomorrow is expected to be in the 50s again, and Friday even lovelier.

Catch-up on recent developments re: spring:

• –Yes, there are hints of green buds on shrubs (lilac, native currants, etc.) and tree pollen is kicking off the spring allergy season most effectively
  
• –Friday, April 2nd, was the first Great Blue Heron sighting
  
• –Monday, April 5th, the first Turkey Vulture sighting

All these firsts are, of course, only the ones I know about... No hummingbirds yet, but juncos are still prevalent. Bluebirds and meadowlarks are in state, but not in vicinity.

In totally novel news (guess that's a bit redundant), the Easter Sunrise service at Red Rocks took place as planned, with the added element of a helicopter crash on Mt. Morrison. We somehow missed it...

Second Storm

The second spring storm of the week arrived Tuesday night, and Wednesday was another big "digging out" day.* Some days it seems like the forecasters are getting better. They pretty much hit this one on the head; it hit us just as scheduled. These spring upslopes (see below) must be easy for them.

Tuesday was a fine spring day, warm and sunny, til about 4:30 p.m. when the air got fuzzy. An hour later a full-on blizzard was in effect, sideways snow and all. Stomping out to lock up the chickens was great fun!


Wednesday morning, it was quite lovely, for those who don't have to be anywhere. (As almost everything was closed, that meant most of us.) We have a foot (30cm), give or take, but by 8:30 a.m. (above), paths were shoveled, feeders were filled, suet was hung by the ash tree with care, and the birds were well content.

The first bird to arrive was the BIG one... "Hey, I put that out there for the other birds!"

The siskins were at their acrobatic best early on, even before we refilled the "upside down" feeder. Fuller feeders means fuller perches, and sometimes a waiting line forms nearby. Patience rarely prevails; they're so feisty jostling for spots that it's almost impossible not to catch them in the air!

Even the juncos were lively and quick! I always worry they'll disappear without a fare-thee-well one of these days. But the Last Junco isn't just yet.

What's the story with "upslope" storms?
This time of year, each low pressure system that crosses Colorado creates a huge counter-clockwise vortex of moving air. Here's Colorado, a giant postage stamp of a state with a swath of high mountains running through the center.


This low, Tuesday night, circled the whole state. It scooped up moisture from the Texas/Gulf end at the south and threw it up against the Front Range, right about here at Denver latitude. Meanwhile, nice cold air just happened to be moving down into the state from Wyoming and north-abouts.

And BAM! Here we are, digging out from under stuff that weighs at least 20 pounds per shovelful! By mid-day, sun was out and roads were clear. The piles will last a while longer...

*Blogger wouldn't cooperate with the longer post I worked on most of the day yesterday, so this is an abbreviated (and less immediate) version. Title refers to the 9 inches of snow I missed over the weekend, all of which was gone by the time I returned Sunday afternoon. Here's this morning's updated view.

Live at the Bear’s Lair

On our second trip to Lair o’ the Bear last week, we never made it to the jelly lichens, but we did get a good look at two beaver dams and dozens of wild bloomers.

A main attraction was the Mountain Ball cactus (Pediocactus simpsonii), in full bloom on a rocky bend in the trail. I think this is the best looking cactus we have in our area.

This garden-like view of wildflowers on a dry slope includes Sand Lilies (Leucocrinum montanum) in white and Oregon Grape (Mahonia repens) in bright yellow on a background of fringed sage (Artemisia frigida).  

 
Here’s a close-up of a Sand Lily. In these spring plants, the ovary is below ground level, so the pollen tube has a long way to go to reach it. The seeds mature underground and later get pushed out onto the surface where they can germinate. 

Short’s Milkvetch (Astragalus shortianus) is about the earliest of our many milkvetches. Its two-tone flowers are distinctive, but it’s the timing of bloom that helps, with other species of milkvetch not ready this early. (This year “early” is coming a few weeks late; the sand lilies should have been gone by now.)

The Lair is a riparian park, as we’ll explore more tomorrow, and shady spots near the stream are great locations for Canada Violet (Viola canadensis). Or maybe not—looks like Bill Weber now calls it V. scopulorum, V. canadensis being an eastern species. There’s also a similar species, V. rydbergii. I didn’t diagnose, so perhaps I should just call it Violet to be safe! (Other sources consider both of these subspecies of Canada Violet.)

Golden Smoke, Corydalis aurea, is easier, as it’s the only representative of its family we’re likely to see in our foothills. It’s related to the eastern Dutch-man’s Breeches, and to Bleeding Hearts in gardens, and has the unusual flowers typical of the Fumariaceae.

 

Serviceberry, one of my favorite shrubs, is a special treat. It’s not quite as abundant, it seems to me, as others in the Rosaceae, which sometimes seems to be our dominant woody family around here. Amelanchier alnifolia, also known as Saskatoon Serviceberry, is one of many species native to and widespread in North America; we also have Utah Serviceberry, A. utahensis, which has shorter petals. It’s called serviceberry because it’s so useful—tasty fruits look a bit like blueberries and are eaten fresh or dried by most tribes, as well as anglo settlers who came later. From pemmican to pies, berries have been prized, but the wood and twigs were also used in basketry, arrow shafts, and tools or toys. This attractive shrub is serviceable in the landscape as well, and often available at nurseries.

Thin-leaved Alder (Alnus incana subsp. tenuifolia) is a common riparian tree at this park. Its pleated leaves were just unfolding on these twigs over Bear Creek. The female inflorescences look like tiny pine cones. They become woody with age, making the tree instantly recognizable! Here a male strobilus and several females cling to a branch where new inflorescences are just budding out. (Click to enlarge.)

I tried to capture the Pasqueflowers (Pulsatilla patens) that were everywhere in the park, but somehow failed to get a good shot of any of them. Bee Lady’s husband Dave, an excellent photographer, really focused on them, with great success. I’ll let you know when I talk him into having his own blog!

  Coming soon!
  Next up, some of the critters
  we saw during this visit. Bee  
  Lady made a wonderful guide;
  she knows all the park’s
  secret places.