Better Hurry Up, Glory of the Snow

Glory of the Snow, Chionodoxa forbesii 2019

Like so many things in my yard, glory of the snow is an afterthought, growing and blooming now as it does beneath a shrub off the one side of the front stoop.  It could have gone unnoticed by me again this year (as it has the previous 9 years) had I not been looking for flowers to cut and bring in to photograph.  Really, right now it's all that I can manage.  I got a sinus infection that led to a bronchial infection that led to pneumonia.  I was tired of resting and thought some simple flower still lifes would perk me up.  And they did because the very first thing the flowers posed, was a mystery.  What were they? I knew that they weren't blue-eyed star grass, but they were similar enough to that that maybe researching something close to it might lead me to my answer - and it did.  Eventually.  Glory of the snow is supposed to bloom early enough that it can pop up through the early spring snows, but we have none of that, and indeed the weather is so warm that the flowers bloom and wilt if they're in the sun.  But these are protected under the shrub, with the sun never striking their tender leaves and petals.

Filius Ante Patrem

Tussilago farfara, Colt's Foot, Filius Ante Patrem Pittsburgh, PA 2019

A very early wildflower, Tussilago farfara, aka colt's foot, aka filius ante patrem ('the son before the father' because the plant flowers and dies back long before leaves appear). Once a very prominent medicinal herb, it is now known to contain pyrrolizidine alkaloids that have a mutagenic effect on DNA. Because of it's continued popularity in Germany and Belgium in particular, colt's foot is available commercially with the alkaloids removed.  I've never used colt's foot, and probably will continue to avoid it.

Still? Life

Clementine Oranges in Glass Bowl, 2019


Every so often I come across what I consider to be the laziest genre of photography, the still life of a bowl of fruit.  A dead fly on the windowsill in the attic is a more engaging subject.  And yet, as we moved my mother-in-law out of her house and into assisted living recently, I snatched up this fruit bowl and came home and filled it with clementines and grabbed my camera.  My wife watched me bewildered, but saying nothing because she is wise.  She observed in silence until finally reaching a conclusion.
"You really like that bowl, don't you?"
"Yes, it's why I've shamed myself so."

Meadow Mushroom

Meadow Mushroom, Agaricus campestris, Pittsburgh, 2016


This morning I was out for a bit of a walk when I happened upon a clutch of meadow mushrooms.  For years I've spotted these pink-gilled beauties around the neighborhood, and even in my own yard.  I was able to identify them quite easily (the pink, unattached gills are a dead give away), but to make sure, I still did spore prints.  Today I decided to finally sautee some of them in butter and see how they tasted.  Quite delicious!  I wasn't surprised since by all accounts they are choice eating.  I don't know if I'll bother with picking them again because although I'm quite confident in my proper identification of mushrooms, it still caused a panic attack.  

Tale of Two Wasps

TOP:  Giant Ichneumon Wasp
BOTTOM:  Horntail Wasp Larva

A few days ago a neighbor offered us some free wood, most of which needed to be split.  I have never been known to reject free wood, no matter how much work has to be done to get it ready for the fireplace.  So, there I was, pounding a star wedge into a chunk of maple with a sledgehammer, when the wood yielded to the efforts and cleaved in two.  To my amazement, in one of the larva chambers bisecting the pieces, a Giant Ichneumon wasp emerged.  I've seen them in the wild many times, but never encountered one while splitting wood, probably because I usually split wood in the fall as opposed to late spring.  I immediately went in the house to grab a camera to document it. 
After photographing the wasp, I began to more closely examine the wood, and found that there was an intact Horntail wasp larva still in its chamber, feasting on the wood.  The complete developmental cycle of these two very different wasps!  The female horntail uses an ovipositor to bore into the wood to insert her egg within, where the growing larva consumes the wood, creating a trail.  Meanwhile, the ichneumon wasp uses her antenna to listen for the horntail larva chomping and moving, and when she finds one, uses her even longer ovipositor to pierce the exterior of the wood and inject her egg into the horntail larva, which it then consumes.  Clearly the ichneumon is a parasitic wasp, but then so is the horntail.
Fascinating!

Baby Mantises

Mantis  Babies, Pittsburgh, 2016

This has been a big week mantises, what with the egg case hatching at my house this morning (outisde, on the porch), but also with The Notorious Ruth Bader Ginsberg having the honor of a new species of mantis being named for her.  You go, RBG!
The mantis young that emerged from the hardened egg case this morning completed a cycle started last fall when their father bravely mated with their mother.  Males typically encounter a 25% mortality rate while or following mating as the female will bite off his head given the opportunity.  Sexual cannibalism is common in the insect kingdom as it gives the mother the added protein she needs for optimizing her eggs.  It seems crazy, but what about procreating doesn't come across as bizarre, particularly to someone outside the species.  Who am I to judge the head eating mantises?  The abies are adorable, miniatures of the adults, smartly avoiding the awkward adolescent stage that most insects are forced to endure.

17 Years And Hello Again

17 Year Cicada, Pittsburgh, PA 2016


It's been awhile since the constant buzz of millions of cicadas filled the air, while the insects themselves filled every available space.  It's been 17 years to be exact.  If you're familiar with the original Star Trek television show, then you know what a phaser set to overload sounds like.  That's exactly what millions of cicadas sound like.  After their extended stay pupating underground, feasting on the roots of deciduous trees, they emerge en masse to mate, and to be eaten.  Birds go crazy to feed on these protein rich bugs, and to share the bounty with their hatchlings.  I've seen robins so fat they can barely take wing.  I'm just trying to keep the dog away from them because she'll gorge herself until she vomits.  Who needs to clean up that mess?