Archive for November 2011
my favorite tea
Since I wrote a post on drinking ‘tea-berry tea’ [see Eastern Teaberry (Gautheria procumbens L.) November 16, 2011), I thought I would try a Poll, just for fun.
Drinking tea, for me, is an enjoyable experience, especially since there are so many varieties available. A cup of tea is definately part of my ‘niche’.
Teas are traditionally classified based on the processing technique (information from Wikipedia; you can also find out more about tea from the Tea Association of Canada www.tea.ca):
White tea: wilted and unoxidized
Yellow tea: unwilted and unoxidized, but allowed to yellow
Green tea: unwilted and unoxidized
Oolong: wilted, bruised and partially oxidized
Black tea: wilted, sometimes crushed and fully oxidized
Post-fermented tea: green tea allowed to ferment
To this I add the various Herbal teas.
No matter how many varieties of tea are available to me, I often select Red Rose. This is an orange pekoe tea produced originally in Saint John, New Brunswick. It’s slogan was: “Only in Canada, you say? …What a pity!” Today it is also available in the United States.
Eastern Teaberry (Gautheria procumbens L.)
When the wind is chill and fingers are cold, what better remedy exists than a cup of tea? After years of attending meetings where there is a box of fancy teas to choose from, I now have my own wooden ‘tea box’. I replenish it from time to time with a new blend, but I find the old standbys are my favourites: Red Rose, Earl Grey, and Chamomile.
When my son was little, we used to have fun making ‘tea-berry tea’. I still go out occasionally to my patch of Gaultheria procumbens, also known as Eastern Teaberry or American Wintergreen. A few leaves, crushed and steeped in boiling water, make a lovely, fragrant tea with a delicate green color. In French, Eastern teaberry is le petit thé du bois (the little tea of the woods).
The leaves contain oil of wintergreen; the chemical in this oil is methyl salicylate, known for its anti-inflammatory properties and closely related to aspirin. For this reason, use caution and only drink ‘tea-berry tea’ occasionally and if you are not sensitive to aspirin. Methyl salicylate is also found in twigs of yellow birch and it also makes a fragrant tea. Methyl salicylate will build up an electrical charge when dried with sugar and rubbed… you can try this yourself with wintergreen-flavoured hard candies.
Warning: 1. never eat any plant if you are not absolutely certain of the identification; 2. never eat any plant if you have personal sensitivities, including allergies, to certain plants or their derivatives; 3. never eat any plant unless you have checked several sources to verify the edibility of the plant.The leaves of Eastern teaberry are thick and evergreen, so they can be found this time of year. The flowers are white, waxy, nodding, and bell-shaped. The bright red berries are also waxy and sometimes still found in November.
~
Wintergreen
Gaultheria procumbens L.
~
small leaves gathered, crushed
oils weep into water, pale
green tea, pink aroma
sugar and midnight sparks
sweet steam and aspirin make
undelicate my heart
~
~
Warning: 1. never eat any plant if you are not absolutely certain of the identification; 2. never eat any plant if you have personal sensitivities, including allergies, to certain plants or their derivatives; 3. never eat any plant unless you have checked several sources to verify the edibility of the plant.© Jane Tims 2012
© Jane Tims 2011
the ideal property
A few years ago, my younger brother lived in New Brunswick for a while and we were able to see him and my sister-in-law quite often. We had some great times, camping one weekend on Grand Manan, watching Survivor together, seeing their terrific Christmas decorations, and just visiting.
One of the weekends I remember well was our drive to see their new property along the St. John River. Although they eventually sold the property, it remains one of the best plots of land I have ever seen. My poem will tell you why!
~
~
Land For Sale
~
waterfront
two acres
one of cleared field
one of woods
silver maple, curly fern, rocky shore
transparent water and wobbling waves
an island over there
(conservation land)
(no buildings to intercept
the view)
~
plans manifest
the house here
the driveway a garden a gate
a path through the maples
to the shore and a dock
two good-natured chairs
turned toward one another
skating in January bonfires in July
promising neighbours
reasonable price
~
and the clincher?
the deal maker?
the heart breaker?
a crooked bush
with five fat blueberries
ready to pick
~
Warning: 1. never eat any plant if you are not absolutely certain of the identification; 2. never eat any plant if you have personal sensitivities, including allergies, to certain plants or their derivatives; 3. never eat any plant unless you have checked several sources to verify the edibility of the plant.
© Jane Tims 2011
plans for a rocky road
This fall, we have begun a new landscaping project, using rocks to embellish a length of road on our property.
On our travels this summer, we were impressed by the many ways home landscapers use stone as a signature element. Some of these ventures were as simple as a stone wall snaking through the woods. Some had elaborate stone benches, stone sculptures, or carefully-built piles of stones.
We have an offshoot to our driveway, intended some day to form half of a circular road. Over the years, we have added some stone embellishments to this road and its associated path, so it seems to me to be the perfect place to develop our own rock project.
To date, we have the following features in place, some in an advanced state of disrepair:
- two stone pillars, about three feet in diameter – each is a page-wire cage filled with rock
- an ‘old-fashioned’ rock wall constructed of granite stones, each about the size of a large honeydew melon
- a lopsided (fallen-down) sundial built of small angular rocks in the shape of a cone
- a chunk of black basalt, a five-sided, columnar volcanic feature, harvested from the shore where my ancestors came to Canada via shipwreck
- a stone ‘stream’ built years ago before we purchased more property and Fern Gully Brook entered our lives – this stream is a one foot wide course of small stones screened from a pile of pit-run gravel. It ‘runs’ from a small artificial pond and is now completely overflowing with dry leaves.
- existing rock and stone features on the road and path
Over the next months, we want to add some features to the road:
- rebuild our formerly wonderful granite fire pit in a new location along the road
- create two new lengths of stone wall to match the existing wall
- build a stone statue or monument
- lay out a circle of stones to mark the one area where we can see the Milky Way from our property (star-gazing is difficult since we have so many trees)
- build a stone embankment-with-moss feature to emulate a lovely roadway we saw at my brother’s wedding last year.
- rock and stone features we plan to add
Over the next year, it is my intention to report back on the progress made on our Rock Project. If you never hear another word about this project, remember – I like to plan.
Copyright Jane Tims 2011
Twinflower (Linnaea borealis L.)
As we enter the winter months, I like to remember the woodland plants now waiting under the layers of fallen leaves to flower again next spring.
Twin-flower (Linnaea borealis L. var. americana (Forbes) Rehd.) is a low-growing, creeping evergreen, found blooming in late June in wooded swamps, coniferous bogs and clearings.
Each slender stalk bears a set of two delicate, nodding, fragrant flowers, white in color and tinged with pink. Other names for the plant are pink bells and, in French, linnée boréale. The specific name is from the Latin borealis, meaning northern.
The European variety was a special favorite of Linnaeus, the founder of the present system of naming flowers.
Twinflower
Linnaea borealis L.
~
conifer cathedral
slanting light
Linnaea carpets
stains the forest floor
to the edge
near the forest door
a woodland pool
~
on slender stem
mirrored
in the pool
and in the air
twinflower rings
pink boreal bells
at vespers
in whispers
a whisper
the rule
~
creeps under roots
and fallen leaves
Linnaea trails
over rude beams fallen
from fences built
when woods
were pasture
~
twin flowers
settle back to back
nodding heads
they cease to ring
and sleep
~
© Jane Tims 1992
mood of the lake
One of the very enjoyable experiences of having a property near the lake is listening to the loons. There is a least one pair of loons on our lake and we see them often. Usually they call a few times at mid-day or in the evening. Their cries are varied, ranging from a laughing tremolo to distinctive and melancholy wails, hoots, and yodels.
We have always been interested in loons and the protection of their habitat. Loons are especially vulnerable to quickly changing water levels and wave action because they build their nests just at water level. `Watch Your Wake` programs help boaters protect loon habitat.
In 1994, we participated briefly in the North American Loon Project. Today there is a similar program, the Canadian Lakes Loon Survey, sponsored by Bird Studies Canada. This is a long term study, using data from volunteers, to assess the health of Canada’s loon population.
We had little time in those days to participate fully, but we did visit Peltoma Lake in southern New Brunswick, to look at the loons living there. My journal entry for our visit to Peltoma Lake reads:
May 1, 1994 Sunday
Trip to Peltoma Lake to see if there are any loons. We are preparing to canoe the lake
about three times this year to make observations. Disappointed at first
as the lake is lined with cottages and we could see no loons.
Then we stopped near a small bay and there they were
– nine black and white beauties! They left the cove as soon as they saw us.
I also wrote a poem about the lake – the mood of the poem suggests it must have been a damp and miserable day.
Last Sunday, we drove out to Peltoma Lake to take some photographs. The loons and most of the people are gone this time of year. Although it was cold, the lake sparkled in the sunlight and was anything but dreary.
Peltoma Lake– Sunbury County
~
Peltoma in rain
is a faded black and white photo
layers of misery, thick and still
the lake, the shore, the mist
the thin chill drizzle
~
in the coves
the cedar and birch swoon above the water
moved to tears at reflection
the lake broods
over her loons
and the cell-thick pall of algae
smoothed to the shore
~
cottages hug the lake
like campers huddle a fire
cheerless and smoky
pines on the esker reach
blank windows keep watch
for sparkle on waves
back flips from the dock
paddles flashing sun
the day is bleak without answer
~
a muskrat tows a line on the shallows
loons quit the cove
diminish to mist
~
Peltoma is scowling
~
© Jane Tims 1994
making friends with the ferns #1
November is an odd time to think about identifying ferns, I admit. But identification of the evergreen ferns is still possible, as they hang on to their identity in the frosty air and even beneath the snow. Also, ferns are so beautiful, it is fun just to look over the field guides and reminisce about the days of summer.
a pressed Long Beech Fern in my copy of Boughton Cobb’s ‘Field Guide to the Ferns’
Ferns belong to the group of vascular plants known as the Pteridophytes. They have stems, roots and leaves but no seeds. Instead, they reproduce by spores and have complicated life cycles.
Ferns grow in many habitats. In our area they are found in moist and shaded woodlands. They are also inhabitants of fields, cliffs, wetlands and cityscapes. I have even seen ferns growing deep within the Howe Caverns of New York State where they have taken advantage of the scant habitat provided by artificial lighting.
The uniform ‘greenness’ of ferns and their highly patterned leaves make them popular as a motif, especially for home decorating and at Christmastime.
In New Brunswick, fiddleheads, the tightly coiled new leaves of the Ostrich fern (Matteuccia Struthiopteris (L.) Todaro), are collected for food every spring along the banks of rivers and their tributaries.
~
waking from a dream
Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia Struthiopteris(L.) Todaro)
~
bottom-land thicket
naked in spring
a rumpled bed
the throws of hibernation
~
new growth cocooned
in dry leaves, bent skeletons
of last summer’s fern
~
sun surge
an insult
between curtains
~
green fiddlehead
uncoils
head down
fist thrust
between pillows and down
fingers stretched
filigreed shadow
new blocking of sun
~
brown coverlet
kicked
~
new green bedspread
new green canopy
green shade
~
© Jane Tims 2011
Winterberry Holly (Ilex verticillata (L.) Gray)
In contrast to October, November is a colorless month. The exception – November’s red berries.
They punctuate the roads and ditches – Highbush-cranberry, Staghorn Sumach, American Mountain-ash, Hawthhorn and Rose. Eventually the birds claim every one for food, but through most of early winter, the berries remain to cheer us.
Highbush Cranberry in November
Last November, my husband and I took a walk in the thicket of saplings above the lake. As we came around the edge of a clump of alder, we were surprised to see a sturdy bush of Winterberry Holly. It glowed with orange-red berries, set off by sprays of bronze-coloured leaves, not yet fallen. We are used to seeing Winterberry along the lake, but in the grey and white thicket, the little bush was a gift. We went there again this past Saturday, and there it was, glowing in the morning sun.
our bush of Winterberry Holly
Winterberry Holly (Ilex verticillata (L.) Gray) is also known as Canadian Holly, Swamp Holly, Inkberry, Black Alder and Feverbush. The shrub is usually found in wet areas, including wetlands, damp thickets, moist woods and along waterways. The leaves turn a brassy purple-brown before they fall. The fruit is a small, hard orange-red berry, remaining on the bush until January.
In my poem, the words ‘lexicon’ and ‘exile’ are included as imperfect anagrams for Ilex (ilex).
Canadian Holly
(Ilex verticillata (L.) Gray)
~
drab November
and lexicon
expires
umber leaves
grey verticals
dull stubble
~
winterberries
astound the wetland
red ink on page
and words explode
from exile
~
fever flush and holly
above December snow
icicles vermillion
~
© Jane Tims 2011
yellow rain
In October, we still have at least one more autumn display, the shedding of the tamarack needles. Tamarack is a deciduous tree and loses most of its needles this time of year. We have a number of tamaracks on our property, so the golden needles fall as a constant ‘rain’ during late October and early November.
Tamarack (Larix laracina (DuRoi) K. Koch) is also known as Hackmatack, American or Black Larch and, in French, épinette rouge. Tamarack is a large tree, with a narrow pyramidal canopy and pendulous branches.
In my head, I can still hear the voice of my undergraduate botany professor, who was interested in the origin of growth forms of plants, saying, “the tamarack has, here, both short shoots and long shoots”. The short shoots emerge from the sides of branches and resemble small bunches or tufts of needles, and the long shoots grow at the ends of each branch and are elongated, with single needles along the length. The needles are small and generally very soft to the touch compared to other conifers.
Today, there is evidence that the ‘amber rain’ has begun, just a few needles on every outside surface. By the end of next week, the windshield of the car will need a swipe of the wipers to clear the yellow needles.
Tamarack needles on the frozen water of the birdbath
Amber Rain
~
autumn fades
bright carpets
swept away
pale ghosts rattle
from beech and oak
limp rags hang
on frosted pumpkin vines
~
but still
a touch of autumn
stands of larch
yellow in the afternoon
~
and now
a gust of wind
begins
the amber rain
~
pelting needles
fill the air
soaking ground
strewing gold
everywhere
~
fairy straw
washed to the edge
of puddle shores
flooding borders
of roads, driven
by wind, a storm
of gold
~
needles patter
gentle chatter
~
where begins
the amber rain?
is it larch
or hackmatack,
juniper
or tamarack?
who sends the amber rain?
~
© Jane Tims 1992
preface to fire
I always associate November with bonfires and the smell of smoke and burning leaves. I love sitting in front of a fire, with friends and family, sharing stories and talking about days ahead. But even in the midst of having fun, I am reminded – fire is not always a friendly force.
In 2002, we encountered the negative side of fire when we took an extended car trip to the west. In Quebec, Ontario and Alberta, we saw evidence of the destruction of recent forest fires.
One of the places we visited on our trip was Portal Lake, near Mount Robson, in British Columbia. We were at Portal Lake for about an hour. We hiked along the east side of the lake, and sat on the mountain rocks to dangle our feet along the rock face. The berries were brilliant, glowing like embers. Although there was no burnt land at Portal Lake, the paths were like tinder, the lichens dry and brittle. The lakeside had the thickened scent of drying vegetation.
The smell of smoke was in the air, as well as the faint smell of sulphur. We had just visited the hot spring at Miette. I had dangled my hands in the warm water and the sulphurous odor still lingered.
It was a kind of foreshadowing. Later in the week, the Rockies would be hazy with smoke as we made our way south of Banff. Two weeks later, we were back home, watching the reports on the Weather Channel. The Parks, Jasper, Banff and Kootenay, were all closed due to forest fire.
Portal Lake – British Columbia
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1.
gateway to wildfire
preface to cinder
smoke and ember
~
2.
Xanthoria ochre, pale juniper
mountain titanium and grey
rose hip and raspberry
smilacina and cranberry
~
3.
granite transfers the burn
to the calves of my legs
hot as the sulphur spring
the air pine scale
and mosses
~
winds arrange the shallow lake
the surface in lines
on the bottom, sun shadows cast
sun shadow sun shadow sun
lily pads are lifted and settle
are lifted and settle
~
succession of fire, ashes and green
~
© Jane Tims 2002
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