Dog Vomit Fungus

Yep, you read that title right. Dog Vomit Fungus. My garden has it ALL OF THE PLACES!!! Also known as scrambled eggs fungus, it basically looks like the dog was sick all over the place. I’ve taken up calling it mulch puke. 

Technically a slime mold, dog vomit fungus usually appears in clumps, growing on mulch, the bases of rotting tree trunks, or other wooden objects. It is most often found in moist, shady areas. We’ve had small spots of it earlier this spring, but today is was everywhere. Why it decided to colonize on the first almost 100 degree day we had, I don’t know, but apparently my garden is a desirable place for it. 

Slime molds reproduce by spores that travel by wind. Apparently, they are very resistant, and can survive even during hot, dry weather. The spores can remain viable for several years, waiting for conditions to be right. When conditions are ideal, dormant spores absorb moisture and crack open to release a swarm sphere, and shortly after, the dog vomit appears. It is light yellow when its young, and textured like cauliflower or those old-school Magic Crystal Gardens. As it ages, it turns more brown and firm, eventually developing these yellow streaks that look like gel icing or egg yolk, which I’m pretty sure are the reproductive organs. Sadly I don’t have a picture to share. You’ll just have to imagine it.  

Normally I don’t care about fungi that show up in my yard; I actually get excited because it means my soil is alive. Fungus and mushrooms are not diseases, but are organisms that are eating decomposing materials. While not fungi, this slime mold plays the same ecosystem roll. Since I use lots of arbor mulch, I’m not surprised to find it eating up my pathways. One more factor that is improving my soil! In addition to my mulched paths, I’ve also found it on top of the soil in my beds and on the edges of the beds.  

Although rare, dog vomit can smother plants if the colony gets big enough. I’m observing it spread right over some of my seedlings and plants, but they seem to be doing fine. The recommendations for getting rid of it is to change out the mulch, or rake out the best you can. It isn’t toxic, so all of that seems way to much effort for something not that big of a deal, that probably won’t go away anyways. So other than poking at it with a stick and proclaiming how weird it is, I’m just letting it be. If you come by my house, don’t worry, Stella is as healthy as can be. Its just the dog vomit fungus!

Connecting with the Earth

Today (at least here in the US) is Earth Day, a day traditionally used to inspire and motivate people to lighten their environmental footstep. Chances are, your social media and blog post feeds are filled with advice on how to “live greener”, causes for activism, and a variety of other tips. We’ve all heard and read about all the things we can do to make a difference. This is not another one of those posts. 

Instead I wanted to write about the way I think will lead to positive change: how to get to know nature.

In my experience, if you know something or someone, you are emotionally involved and you CARE about what happens. You might see a lost cat poster and feel sad, but you continue about your day. Yet if your own cat goes missing (or child, if you are more in the camp of human children than furry creatures), you will be more deeply affected and go out looking or make calls or post notices. You might read about a wild area being developed a few towns away, but it makes no difference to you. Yet if you played hide-and-seek there as a child and picnic there with your family, you might show up to the planning commission meeting and share your voice on opposing the project. 

While I have no psychological training, I’m going to say you have different reactions because you are emotionally connected and involved. I think thats what our earth needs; more emotional connection between the people and the spinning rock we call our home. We don’t need more advice on how or what to recycle because our landfills are filling up, we don’t need more news stories about sea otters dying in oil spills. We need more intimate relationships so we care and these things don’t happen in the first place. 

Wether by nature or nurture, I have always loved the natural world and have always felt an deep connection with our Mother Earth. I sum it up to growing up in the middle of nowhere without electricity as an only child: nature was always there, and therefore became by constant companion. I know nature. Nature is a friend. And because of this, I care. This is what drives me for every single choice I make every single day. How are my actions affecting my friend?

But not everyone has made these connection, Mother Earth may still be a stranger to you. And that’s ok, she’s always willing to make new friends.

Here are a few of my tips to get to know your earthly surroundings:

Get outside. This could be an open space preserve, a state park, a local park, a garden, even a well designed parking lot landscape. Spend actual time outside. Once you are there, sit or walk, it doesn’t matter. But get outside. Put your phone away. If you can’t sit still or need “something” to do, write or draw on actual paper.

Look, Think. Look carefully. What kind of things do you see? Journalling is always a good way to capture what you observe. Too much to focus on, or don’t know what to look for, start with this: How many shades of green can you count? Actually try to count them. Why do you think some are lighter than others? Are there similar leaf shapes or sizes in the same shade? Do you have any objects or clothing items that match one of the shades? What other colors do you see? If you were a bird, what leaf would be best to hide under when it rains? If you were a bug, what leaf looks like it would be the yummiest to eat? If you were an animal that lived in this area, where would you go to get water? Where would you sleep? What kind of animals do you think stood in your same spot?

Give things names. Knowing= caring, and names help that. Learn the names of local plants and animals in your area. If you see them again, refer to them by name. If you aren’t sure the correct name, make one up. No idea what that little brown bird is that you see in your garden every morning and the one that pecks at your car side mirror? It might be a towhee, but you could call it a “long tailed mirror bird”. Ever plant has a botanical and a common name; consult books or a local naturalist for the correct name, or make one up that has meaning to you. For years, I knew the weed Dock as Indian Tobacco, because I heard once that the native people smoked it. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know the correct name, but I had a name and being able to identify it made me more connected with the place I was in. Give places within places a name. If you have a bench you sit on during lunch break, give it a name. A favorite section of a regular hike? Give it a name. Notice what it is like in those areas: what you see, hear, smell, feel. Is that similar to other places? When out and about, do you see or feel similar things as that place?  Listen. Sit and just listen. How many sounds can you hear? If you are in a wild space, your list might be long with bird calls and wind. How many different birds are making those noises? Do you think its a large bird or a small bird? If you are near civilization, your list might include people or sirens. How might the sounds change based on the time of day? What do you think it sounded like 20 years ago? What will it sound like 10, 20, 100 years from now? Notice. If you are in an area long enough, check out where the sun sets each day. Where is the last place to get a beam of light? What is growing there? What is the first flower to open up in the morning, or the season? Make mental notes. Look to see if that flower grows in other peoples yards or in other wild spaces. Do you think it opens the same time? Repeat. Often. Very few of us can become forever friends with someone by only meeting once. Get outside and critically observe. Regularly. 

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“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts” — Rachel Carson

Life in the Garden

The other morning, I ventured out in my garden. Walking down my mulched pathway, I didn’t get far before I was actually brought to tears. At that exact moment, I saw a hummingbird feeding from bolted broccoli, a flock of tiny goldfinches raising up from eating aphids off my kale, and a nuthatch was jumping around in is crazy upside-down posture on the sides of my raised beds (hopefully eating rolly-pollies).

The birds quickly scattered away, alarmed by my presents, but my garden was still full of life. I saw aphids heavy on my apple tree, but they were being consumed by ladybugs and ladybug larva, solider beetles, and lacewings. Closer examination of my volunteer dill revealed two larva of Anise Swallowtail; I had seen one flittering above a few weeks before. Honeybees, carpenter bees, bumblebees and tiny native bees forage on bolted plants and the handful of flowers I have scattered about. If I turn over soil, I find worms. If I turn over logs I find skinks and occasionally salamanders. There are ladybugs of all life stages in my garden. 

People garden for many reasons. Some to collect the newest or rarest specimens, some for stress relief, some for cutting flowers, or some for edibles. While I garden for many reasons, supporting natural life is the main one. Right now I have only edibles and a very few ornamentals planted, but have plans for extensive habitat gardens, including a pond. And despite not having “official” space set aside for the natural creatures, I still have tons of life thriving in my garden. And nothing makes me happier to know that I am creating a safe and healthy place that meets the needs of all these creatures, and even though my yard is a created ecosystem, it is acting as a part of nature.

Adventures in Observation

“The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction.” –Rachel Carson

Before bed, if I’m feeling anxious or overwhelmed, I often turn to the words of the great naturalists. Reading the thoughts and observations of people like Aldo Leopold and Rachel Carson allow my mind to calm down and make me feel at ease. Recently, while reading Leopold’s Sand County Almanac, I processed that many observations and reflections happen early in the morning, just as the Earth is waking up.

my yard at twilight

I consider myself a morning person. I am from a family of early risers. My dad got up every morning at 4:00 to go to work, and my mom helped see him off. I got up a bit later, at 5:30, eager to go to school. Right now, as I start work in the afternoons, I get up without an alarm and its usually when the sun rises. But if there is somewhere I need to be or something to do, regardless of the time, I have no problem getting out of bed (well, unless the three-legged orange purr monster wants to cuddle…) Yet despite my willingness to be up early, I’ve never gotten up early with the specific goal of just observing.

So this past week, I thought I would see the final week of Winter past and welcome Spring by getting up before the sun rose, and just sit outside, observing. And so I did. Each morning, armed with a cup of tea and a notebook, I went out shortly before 7 and sat outside under the persimmon tree.

On some days I saw the sky glow from the East, with wispy bits of pulled cotton clouds, always just one shade brighter than the lightening sky. On some days the sky was one big blanket of clouds, keeping the sky the color of the graphite words in my notebook. I listed to a lengthy solo by a lone mockingbird, carried on from its perch in the fig tree. . Do birds sing to express gratitude to the new day, or perhaps broadcast the latest gossip to anyone who would hear? Finches in the plum tree and quince bush carried on in chaos, flittering and chattering in no distinguishing order, only to be silenced for a moment when the blue jay swooped in, approaching in a large scalloped flight. Three houses down, I saw a white egret land in a sycamore, commanding my attention as it appears to step through the air, its wings backwards for balance, to set foot on a branch. I noticed that a lone purple sparaxis stayed open, despite its family of white blooms clasped shut until the sun awoke them, and I wonder if perhaps its dark color makes it less sensitive to light change?

I also thought about observing in general. The definition of observation “is the act of careful watching and listening; the activity of paying close attention to someone or something in order to get information”. I think that the more we observe something, the more we are connected to it, and the more likely we will appreciate it. If one knows that a bird nests in a tree, one is likely to think twice about cutting it down. If one experiences joy and recognizes the feeling of peace from walking on a beach, its unlikely one will leave their trash laying on the sand.

a lone purple sparaxis, open among a field of closed

Our society is not great on slowing down and observing. We rush through our days with urgency. Even those lucky enough to spend time outside, myself included, are unlikely to still our mind and only look. My theory is that if we all stopped to observe our natural surroundings more often, with careful detail, we would have a healthy and more appreciative relationship with the Earth. We could all take a lesson from a cat, who happily sit under a bush or in the grass, and just watch.

What do you think? Do you find much time to just observe?

It’s the Most… Wonderful….Time….OF THE YEARRRRRR!

While I enjoy features of all seasons, Spring and Fall are by far my favorite. I think these “shoulder seasons” don’t get the attention they deserve.

photo courtesy of the fabulous Hannah Rose: http://hannahroseart.com

Let us pause for a moment to think about the plight of poor Fall….Summer ends when school starts back up, there are a few weeks where people are “yeah, apples! I love Fall” then suddenly, in early October, the Christmas stuff goes up and everyone starts thinking of lights, red & green, and sparkles. (Ooooooo, something shiny!).

Chinese pistache tree, a Sonoma County fall superstar

But I feel bad for this time of year, because Fall is beautiful and a fabulous time to spend outside, and truly deserves appreciation. While we may not have the classic New England colors, even in California, who the mass of people believe doesn’t have seasons, our surrounding environment is full of changes. The sky darkens much earlier, but the shorter spans of light are filled with vibrant golds, yellows, reds, oranges and crimsons. The ground is full of texture from fallen leaves, and the air feels fresh and crisp.

fallen leaves decorate the path at Riverfront Regional Park, Windsor

Any spare moment that I’ve had this past month has been spent exploring outside. With my 4-legged faithful furry adventure partner, I’ve spent time all over the county on the beaten and less traveled paths, admiring the glorious environment.

apple orchard neighboring Ragle Ranch, Sebastopol

The first colors we see to change are the vineyards, with the different varietals of grapes creating a patchwork blanket covering Sonoma County’s hills and valleys.

photo courtesy of the fabulous Hannah Rose: http://hannahroseart.com

Along the river, the wild grape vines turn red. Native riparian trees like willow, ash, alders and cottonwood turn faint colors and reflect off the waters of our Russian River. Buckeyes have dropped their leaves and the buckeye nuts (poisonous, don’t eat them!) hang like pears from barren branches.

Riparian trees and shrubs lining the Russian River, Steelhead Regional Park

In people’s gardens, pomegranates and persimmons ripen and hang like jewels, while fig, walnut and pear leaves turn yellow and flitter to the ground. Bright red berries cluster on green boughs of pyracantha, just waiting to be devoured by hungry robins.

Liquid ambers line a road in Graton, photo courtesy of Spring Maxfield

Streets lined with giant sycamores create a layer of crunchy dried leaves, while liquid amber create tunnels of red. Chinese pistache are my favorite, and the bright orange and red leaves positively that simply seem to glow, can only be described as awesome.

photo courtesy of the fabulous Hannah Rose: http://hannahroseart.com

Soon, Christmas will be upon us, as well as the dark nights of winter. Bare branches of trees lining our towns’ square will be bright with white lights. Chilly days will keep me inside and hopefully rain will unleash from the sky and fill our reservoirs and streams. But until then, I will give Fall all the attention that it deserves, and relish in the beauty it provides!

As always, I love to hear from you! How’s the weather where your at? What do you love most about Fall?