Archive for the ‘competing for niche space’ Category
Niche: new poetry book
Early this year, I set a goal, to pull my poems into a series of books. I have written many poems and I do not want them to be lost when I leave this planet.
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The result is three poetry books I intend to publish in 2020. So far this year I have published one of the three: ghosts are lonely here. Today, I completed another of the books, niche. It will be available on Amazon by the weekend. I will have copies by mid-January.
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In terms of biology, the niche is the quality of a space occupied by a living thing, the sum total of physical, nutritional, biological, psychological and emotional needs gathered together in one place. In human terms, niche can be a metaphor for home, community or personal space. One way of looking at the timeline of life is to think of it as a sequence of niche-spaces lived in, sought after, avoided, encountered, found, or occupied.
These are poems about niche—the spaces where plants, animals and humans find home. The poems explore the niche spaces found primarily in Canada’s temperate zone where plants and animals have adapted to ecologies with a strong seasonal component. The poems explore the forests and coastal areas of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, and the prairies of Alberta.
As you read the poems, you may think about your own niche, its origins and the changes that have occurred.
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My poetry book niche has a Foreword, written by my good friend Roger Moore (not the spy). Roger has guided and inspired my writing as a friend and teacher for more than 20 years.
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The book is illustrated with my drawings.
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The next book in the series will be entitled ‘blueberries and mink: summers on my grandfathers farm.’ It should be published by the end of 2020.
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All my best,
Jane
my place, my niche
All of us, as we self-isolate and stay at home, have become more familiar with our own place or space. We also have become familiar with our ‘niche.’ It is also a sort of space, but is more about how we use that space.
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My space, on the macro-scale, is in the Northern Hemisphere and the temperate zone. I love the four seasons: perhaps summer, with it’s high humidity, least of the four. I live in a rural area; the bird chorus I hear each morning is associated with mixed hardwood and softwood. For more information on our ‘grey woods’ click here.
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Our house seemed big when we built it 40 years ago. Today it is considered modest with two floors, three bedrooms and a loft. As I grow older, arthritis means I hang out mostly on the main floor. But upstairs, the loft stores my genealogy interests and the library holds all my books. On the main floor is my computer, my bird watching corner, my sewing basket and my drawing and painting supplies. Often, my husband is there too. So you see, I have most of what it takes to make me happy.
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My space is more and more often in cyberspace. These days my family and friends are mostly there, on Facebook and Messenger. Just today I had my first meeting on Zoom.
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I spend about half of my day on the computer, in one phase or other of one of my writing projects. Last week our wifi went down for four days. Usually, I refer to the on-line dictionary or thesaurus about once every fifteen minutes. With the wifi down, I wondered for a moment what to do and then thought, “Thesaurus. Dictionary.” A little dusty but serviceable.
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So what is not part of my niche?
Music. I have a piano which I can play. And a guitar. And I have a stack of discs and a way to play them. I also have a small selection of my favourite music in my iPad. I tell myself it would be good to include more music in my life, in my ‘niche.’ So far it is only a thought.
Exercise. I will start by saying I do about 30 minutes of yoga-like stretches every morning. Otherwise I would not be able to get out of bed. If you follow my blog you know I am also dedicated to my stationary cycle but, since the first of the year, it aggravates my knees and I have not been doing this with any regularity. I have plans to reincorporate exercise into my niche, but so far, it is also a thought.
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Of course, the world is full of possibilities and I have many gaps in my space/niche. I have interests in coins, stamps, games, puzzles, calligraphy and so on. I have no interest in flying kites, cooking, speaking another language or clock-making. But perhaps, someday, one of these may insinuate itself into my niche. So much to include, so little time!
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So, what is in your space? Your niche? What is not in your space/niche?
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All my best,
staying at home, wearing my mask in public,
Jane
spider web
My writing group has been sharing writing prompts in this time of isolation.
The most recent prompt was ‘spider web.’
Took me an hour to find a spider photo since I am spider-averse.
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spider web
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web enlarges spider
her domain, her coefficient of creep
extends her occupation of space
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trap for unwary
blue-bottle flies
beetles on the wing
and gnats, nattering
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all of the cobwebs
I have brushed from my face
would not weigh a gram
but they take up
a fair chunk
of brainscape
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just as the spider
is sensitive to vibration
my skin notices
the sub-threshold of touch
the tiniest occupant
of my domain
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All my best,
Jane
have grape vines, will not prune
I have planted grape vines in quite a few places on our properties over the years.
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At our cabin, one vine survives, climbing an inch or two each year on an arbor we built. The cabin lot was supposed to be great for growing grapes — a sunny slope, the temperature-modifying lake and breezes to discourage insects.
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However, the vines have not been thriving. This year for the first time, I have a scrawny bunch of grapes.
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The vines at home in our garden do thrive, although the light is scarce. Each year I have a few small bunches of grapes.
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my grapes, wandering about in the birch tree
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The vine at the back of the house is amazing. Without pruning, it has climbed high into the maple and fir trees. But an unpruned apple tree keeps the light low. Pruning, that must be the key!
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Competition
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Grape vines climb
high into maple.
Feign kudzu.
Burden the balsam,
bend branches.
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Grape leaves flare,
arrange themselves, nip
every ray.
Mosses and bracken
starved for light.
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But apple
demands its revenge.
Sends shadows
to starve chlorophyll.
Bullies grape.
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Teases leaves
with flecks of half-light.
Grapevine sets
no fruit this season.
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Not a single grape.
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All my best!
Jane
abandoned spaces: fireweed
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about abandoned rural areas and the remnants of gardens left behind. Although these properties are still owned, the homes that once stood there are gone or left to deteriorate. The gardens, once loved and cared for, are left to survive on their own.
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When these home-sites are abandoned, the garden plants:
- disappear (most annuals),
- persist (perennials like day-lilies or roses), or
- escape (lupins, mallow or other easily-spreading plants).
Native plants, those liking disturbed or cleared areas, may move into these sites.
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an abandoned site in Williamsburg, New Brunswick where fireweed has colonized
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As I find abandoned properties, the pink or pale purple flowers of fireweed are often present. Fireweed, an indigenous plant not usually grown in gardens, is often a first indicator a house may once have stood on a plot of land. Often fireweed stands side by side with orange day-lilies and other garden escapes.
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on this abandoned site in the Williamsburg area, the fireweed stands side-by-side with orange day-lilies (Hemerocallis fulva), rose bushes and other cultivated plants
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Fireweed (Epilobium angustifolium L.), also known as great willowherb, gets the ‘fire’ in its name since it is one of the first plants to colonize after fire. As a pioneer species, partial to open areas with lots of light, it also moves in to any cleared or disturbed area. After a few years, other plants will move in, out-competing the fireweed. However, the seeds of fireweed stay viable for a long time and may re-colonize the area if it is again disturbed or burned.
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Fireweed is one of many tall pinkish flowers growing in our ditches and wild areas. It is distinguished by its rather loose inflorescence, the flower’s four roundish petals and its seed pods which angle upwards.
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Fireweed spreads by the roots or by seed. In the later part of the season, the seeds are spread by the wind, aided by long silky hairs. Before dispersal the hairy seeds burst out along the seed pods making the plant look unkempt and hairy.
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Fireweed (pink) among brown-eyed Susans; the stiff, many-podded plants in the upper right-hand corner are the seedpods of fireweed, finished with their blooming
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In New Brunswick we are facing a demographic trend of movement from rural communities to cities in the southern part of the province and elsewhere. This means many small communities that thrived a century ago are now abandoned. For example, in 1866 the community of Fredericksburg, New Brunswick was a farming community with 12 families (Source: https://archives.gnb.ca/Exhibits/Communities/Details.aspx?culture=en-CA&community=1367 ). Today only a couple of homes or camps are found in the area but foxglove flowers, that once bloomed in the gardens, thrive in the ditches. For more on the demographics of small New Brunswick communities see:
Lauren Beck and Christina Ionescu. ‘Challenges and Opportunities Faced by Small Communities in New Brunswick: An Introduction’, Journal of New Brunswick Studies Issue 6, No. 1 (2015).
https://journals.lib.unb.ca/index.php/JNBS/article/view/23057
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foxglove (Digitalis purpurea) flowers thriving in the ditch in the Fredericksburg area
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All my best,
Jane
chimney swifts
Last evening my husband and I took a drive into Fredericton to see a population of chimney swifts do their dive into a brick chimney. The chimney at McLeod Avenue provides home to a couple of thousand chimney swifts. These fleet birds nest inside brick and mortar chimneys, an ideal example of how wildlife adapts to coexist with humans. Once, swifts used large hollow trees, but these are disappearing from the landscape. When the swifts returned to Fredericton in May, a CBC newscast spread the word about the chimney and many folks turned out to watch the display CBC .
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Last evening was late in the viewing season, so we observed a few hundred birds dive into the chimney. My photography skills are always a problem, so the birds were much faster that the setting on my camera. But I really like the silent ghostly image portrayed. In fact the air was filled with their chirping and the dive of the birds into the chimney opening was like pouring water.
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Like the hollow trees before them, brick chimneys are disappearing from the landscape. Efforts are underway to protect chimneys and to provide alternative nesting for swifts, but the struggle to improve the survival of threatened species like the chimney swift must continue.
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All the best,
Jane
volunteers
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volunteers
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I forget to mow.
Volunteers
shoulder in
from every side.
Burnished trumpets of daylilies,
cerulean forget-me-nots,
pagodas of bugleweed
overtake green.
I forget to mow.
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All my best,
Jane
A place to be still
I love to be outside but my knees do not always cooperate. So, I make certain I have a place to sit on my walk-about. I love my concrete bench. I get a great view of the yard. In spring there are crocuses. At this time of year, a huge patch of sensitive fern. In fall there will be red maple leaves. But the bench is cold. Not a place to sit for long! Not a place to linger.
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A place to be still
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Cold concrete,
embedded, still,
where leaves
of purple crocus
press through turf,
sensitive fern
overtakes lawn,
autumn builds
layer on layer.
Cold concrete,
embedded, still.
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All my best,
Jane
Birdbath
Our copper birdbath includes a silver-coloured metal bird, in case no real birds come to call. In the shade of the maple tree the water shimmers. But the little silver bird never flutters, not even a feather.
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birdbath
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embedded in dapple
edge of copper
silver bird never moves
never flutters a feather
never pecks a sparkle
from crystal water
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bird with heartbeat
and dusty wing-feathers
lands for a bath
sputters and splashes
chooses to ignore
immobile effigy
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All my best,
Jane
someone has a plan!
This time of year the winter ice on the rivers in New Brunswick is starting to break up. At the concrete bridge over the South Branch of the Rusagonis Stream, not far from where I live, there is a narrow band of melted ice.
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However, someone has plans for that part of the river. Have a look at the next two photos and guess who the ‘planners’ are.
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Beavers! Not ice scour since softer trees at the same level are not involved. Also, two of the trees have deep ‘v’s cut out on the bank side.
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We will be watching to see the next stage and the results of this plan. A beaver dam on the Rusagonis. Oh my!
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
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