Feeding the Soul

If thou of fortune be bereft,
And in thy store there be but left,
Two loaves, sell one, and with the dole,
Buy Hyacinths to feed thy soul
~Muslih-uddin Sadi

It’s always a thrill to see the tips of daffodils and tulips and other spring bulb flowers poking through the still-cold earth in the spring. But enjoying spring-flowering bulbs requires some advance planning. You have to get the bulbs in the ground in the fall before the big freeze-up!

Late in the summer, Veseys Bulb catalogue arrived in my mailbox. What a wonderful display! So many beautiful varieties to choose from! Tulips in stunning shades. Sunny yellow daffodils. Hyacinths and crocus and snowdrops and more, much more! I find enchantment on every page. But day after day goes by, and I fail to get my order in. Before I know it, I’ve missed another planting season. *sigh*

I had been planning on planting some bulbs around my daylily plants. Before the opportunity had completely passed me by, I finally picked up a few bags of bulbs at a local department store. Probably the quality of the bulbs is inferior to those purchased from specialty stores, but hopefully, they’ll still brighten the garden next spring.

The selection of bulbs was limited, but I was able to purchase a few different varieties of narcissus. I have long had a fondness for narcissus. While tulips offer vibrant colours, they are a bit more problem-prone. Squirrels love tulips. And tulips don’t multiply the way narcissus bulbs do. Narcissus are a good investment in a future filled with their dainty, fragrant blooms.

Narcissus jonquilla ‘Bell Song’ was introduced in 1971 by by the late Grant E. Mitsch. It features very pale yellow, almost ivory, petals and a trumpet fringed with pink. Jonquils are generally more sweetly-scented than daffodils.

Another pack offers a combination of Spring Green tulips and Narcissus ‘Hawera’. Hawera is a dwarf narcissus, developed in New Zealand and introduced in 1938. Spring Green is a creamy-white tulip with pale green feathering at the edges. This should make a very pretty combination.

Narcissus tazetta paperwhite is often grown as an indoor forcing bulb. However, the package assures me that these bulbs will do fine in the outdoor garden, so I hope they’re right.

Finally, I got a few tulip bulbs. They are labeled simply “Rembrandt Assortment”, which should mean the flowers are streaked with colour. Hopefully they will avoid detection by squirrels and it will be interesting to see what colour they are next spring. On the last few sunny days, I’ve got my bulbs nestled into place and can sit back now and anticipate spring.

Revisiting Upper Canada Migratory Bird Sanctuary

In June, just as the year was springing forward into summer, I visited the Upper Canada Migratory Bird Sanctuary. Now, in the opening days of November, the year is falling back into winter. The trees have mostly lost their leaves and the grasses are turning brown. All that remained of the butterfly population was one lone pale yellow Sulphur and a few Woolly Bears, hurrying across the walkway as they search for a winter home. There was still plenty to see, however.

As RailGuy and I headed down the path, a large bird that we hadn’t noticed took off from the cattails to our left and flew overhead. My first thought was that the bird was a Great Blue Heron. They’re quite common throughout this area. But no! I was excited to see that it was a Great Egret (Ardea alba egretta) These big white birds, just a bit smaller than the herons, are much rarer. Great Egrets have been expanding their range northward, and the Atlas of the Breeding Birds of Ontario 2001-2005 notes that nests found in the Stormont, Dundas, and Glengarry counties area, where the Sanctuary is located, were new sightings, not reported in the previous atlas 20 years earlier.

The egret wasn’t about to stick around for a photography session. I was only able to get a shot from quite a distance. When we walked a bit farther up the path and looked back, we could see that there were two egrets, one wading in the water and one perched on a stump. They may have nested at the Sanctuary this summer. Egrets, like herons, are colonial nesters, so perhaps others were here, or will join them in future years. At the beginning of the 20th century, Great Egrets were hunted almost to the point of extinction for their feathers, which were popular as decorations on hats. The plume trade was very lucrative, and not only egrets but sea birds such as pelicans and terns were hunted. The Audubon Society and other groups were important in raising public awareness, and articles such as “Woman as a Bird Enemy” gradually caused the use of feathers as ornament to fall into disfavour, ending the hunt by World War I.

Farther along the path, this nest was conspicuous in a tree at the edge of a marshy section. It’s builders remain a mystery. Whoever they might have been, they were very skilled.

The ends of the long cattail leaves that were woven into the nest can be seen and the exterior of the nest features a draping of moss.

It was a beautiful day, and we continued along the path as it enters a section of forest. There are many large, attractive trees here, mostly Eastern White Pine (Pinus strobus), with a scattering of Eastern White Cedar (Thuja occidentalis). White pines can be recognized by their long needles, which grow in bundles of five. They are the only 5-needled pine native to eastern North America. White pines are popular plantation trees, but this stand didn’t show the characteristic rows that mark a plantation.

There were a number of fallen trees, their roots laid bare in big discs of soil. I wondered if a changing water table level, due to the flooding for the nearby Seaway, had caused what seemed to be a greater than average number of tumbled trees.

There were plenty of chickadees flitting about in the undergrowth, and some of the pines showed extensive woodpecker activity, including this tall snag. I was surprised it was still standing, considering that so many of its apparently healthier neighbours had fallen.

After admiring the forest, we turned around to head back to the car, passing under this arch formed by yet another listing pine.

We passed by this lodge, which appeared to be abandoned, on the way back. There was evidence of recent beaver activity too, but that’s a subject for another post.

November’s Full Moon

October was so rainy and overcast during the full moon period that I wasn’t able to get a glimpse of the moon, never mind a photo. I settled for a post celebrating the fall harvest, Dining With the Three Sisters. November has begun by blessing us with some sunny weather and the moon has been beaming down in the evening. The November full moon is variously called the Hunter’s Moon, the Beaver Moon, the Frost Moon and the Snow Moon.

Of these choices, the Frost Moon seems the most appropriate. We have been having our first taste of waking up to a landscape of white frost and windshields that need scraping in the morning. As the season progresses, each morning the frost seems a little heavier, a little more persistent. Thank goodness Snow Mooon is not yet the order of the day. No doubt by the time the December full moon is shining, Snow Moon will be more timely.

Hunter’s Moon is said to be a reflection of European traditions, when the November full moon provided light for shooting migrating birds. Native Americans also benefited from the light of the November full moon as they stockpiled resources for the upcoming winter. This perhaps led to the name Beaver Moon, as November was a time to set traps for beavers, before swamps froze, to ensure a supply of warm furs for the winter. Another interpretation is that Beaver Moon refers to the beavers’ own industrious preparations for the oncoming cold season.

Whichever name you prefer, viewing the full moon always seems to have some primeval appeal. The last mild evenings of the year make watching the November full moon a melancholic pleasure as we anticipate the arrival of cold weather.

Bibliophilia Monday: Before the Age of Miracles: Memoirs of a Country Doctor

Before the Age of Miracles: Memoirs of a Country Doctor by William Victor Johnston, M.D. Fitzhenry & Whiteside Ltd, 1972.

Dr. Johnston was born in rural Ontario and left his family’s farm to study medicine in Toronto, graduating with his M.D. degree in 1923. He subsequently began his practice in Lucknow, Ontario, a small village not far from his birthplace. In Before the Age of Miracles, Dr. Johnston recounts the challenges and satisfactions he experienced as he ministered to patients through the years of the Great Depression and a time when many of our “wonder drugs”, vaccinations and modern treatments lay, as yet unknown, in the future. Dr. Johnston’s book provides a portrait of a compassionate and thoughtful man, deeply interested in the welfare of his patients. His story serves as a reminder of how lucky we are to be able to take for granted much of modern medicine.

Dr. Johnston begins with a brief history of the Lucknow region and its pioneers. Many of its early inhabitants were from the Scottish shires of Argyll and Sutherland, whose Highland troops had won fame by crushing the Sepoy Rebellion of 1858 at Lucknow, India. Other pioneers in the Lucknow region included Irish settlers escaping the potato famine, Englishmen from Devonshire, and a sprinkling of Germans and other nationalities.

Dr. Johnston tells of his experiences from his early days in practice in the 1920s, when many babies were delivered at home, tonsils were removed on the kitchen table, and in winter, visits to patients were made by horse and cutter. Several cases of pernicious anemia were diagnosed each year and the disease was a death sentence. Victims presented dry yellow scruffy skin, lost weight and vigor and experienced numbness and tingling of the fingers and toes. Then, in 1926, two doctors discovered that a diet rich in liver would save the lives of pernicious anemia patients. They received the Nobel Prize for their work in 1934. It wasn’t until 20 years later that the life-saving substance in liver was identified: Vitamin B12.

In May of 1921, Banting and Best made their discovery of insulin as a treatment for diabetes and it was made available in limited quantities to doctors late in 1923 by Connaught Medical Research Laboratories in Toronto.

In the 1920s, the treatment of pneumonia consisted of rest in bed, good food and lots of liquids, and aspirin. Dr. Johnston describes the moment, anxiously awaited by the doctor and family, when the crisis marking the turning point of the disease was reached, the moment when the resources of the patient finally overcame the infecting germs. The patient would suddenly start breathing quietly, stop sweating, and go to sleep as their temperature returned to normal. It wasn’t until 1945 that the mass production of penicillin changed the course of the disease.

Tuberculosis also carried away many victims. It was called consumption because the disease seemed to consume the whole body. Sometimes it was called galloping consumption, an indication of how quickly it could kill. The disease was well-advanced before it could even be diagnosed because such limited facilities for skin tests or chest x-rays were available. The search to control tuberculosis lead to the pasteurization of milk and the sale of Christmas seals, a drive to raise funds for research.

Even something as simple as a cut finger could lead to a serious, even deadly, infection and required careful treatment. Calvin Coolidge’s son, Calvin Jr., died of such an infection in 1924. It was the result of a blister on his heel that he acquired playing tennis. Sulfonamide drugs, developed in the 1930s, were the first antimicrobial drugs, and paved the way for the antibiotic revolution in medicine.

Before the Age of Miracles offers many interesting anecdotes. In the last chapters of the book, Dr. Johnston looks at the future of medicine and prescribes needed changes. As the book was released in 1972, it is interesting to compare his views with what has come to pass in the last 30 years. Some of his conclusions are as relevant now as they were at the time of writing. Dr. Johnston believed strongly in the importance of the family doctor and played a role in the founding of The College of Family Physicians of Canada. The College celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2004 and a history provided on their website reads:

The fledgling National College soon took up residence at 174 St. George Street in Toronto, and later 150 Bloor Street, under the able leadership of its first Executive Director, Dr. W. Victor Johnston, who immediately began to establish the organization’s Provincial Chapters and increase its membership, focusing on providing training and leadership in the tumultuous post-war period. Soon the hundreds of members of the College blossomed into thousands as Provincial Chapters were established in all ten provinces and began ensuring the provision of quality continuing medical education for family doctors.

In the 1960s, Canada transformed public health under Medicare, celebrated its centennial, and, by the mid-1970’s, had witnessed a transformation of social and political values across the country. Dr. Johnston retired in 1965 and was succeeded by Dr. Donald I. Rice as Executive Director, who moved the organization to 1941 Leslie Street in 1969, and then to 4000 Leslie Street in 1974.

Sunday Snapshot: Waiting

Waiting

New Rain Gear

We had some lovely weather in September, a sort of consolation prize for putting up with a very wet summer. October has seen a return to the rainy weather of the summer, however. I don’t worry about the horses getting damp when it is warm out, but as the temperature has been dropping to close to freezing, it is more of a concern. They have a shelter they can take cover in, but when an all-day drizzle sets in, they seem to become restless after a while and venture out into the damp.

Czarina had a nice, green rainsheet from last year, and I was able to dress her for the weather. She seems quite pleased with it, and posed in a traditional stance to have her picture taken, above. Mousie and Louis, however, had only winter blankets, which are still too warm for all-day wear, so this week I invested in rainsheets for them too.

Here’s Mousie in her new raincoat. It’s gray-black, with coral lining and piping, very stylish.

Check out the snazzy snap closures on the front, the front gusset, the reflective logo (WeatherBeeta), pretty cool, eh? It also features wither padding, full wrap tail flap, triple weave strength, and is waterproof and breathable. Or so the tags say.

Here’s Louis in his new mint and royal blue rainsheet. Unlike the horses, he grows a long, furry coat that helps protect him from the rain, but even he begins to feel the cold of an all-day drizzle.

I got everyone suited up in their new gear just before supper. They can enjoy their meal in comfort and settle down for a cozy night.

Black and White and Milked All Over

Upper Canada Village is a 60 acre re-creation of pioneer life, set on the banks of the St. Lawrence River, east of Morrisburg, Ontario. The forty heritage buildings are populated by a host of costumed interpreters who offer visitors a glimpse into Ontario’s past. One of the houses is called the Physician’s House, pictured above.

The house displays equipment typical of the early days of medicine in 1860s Ontario, when the treatment of patients was limited and crude by today’s standards. Compared to the more humble homes of other community members, such as the shoemaker, the physician’s house is quite comfortable.

One of the prettiest features of the house is the oval window in the front bedroom. The house style is recorded as Neo-Grec, a form of neoclassicism that replaced the rounded, Italianate features and flowery details of earlier Greek Revival buildings with a squarer, more geometric form.

The house wasn’t a doctor’s house in its former life, however. It was originally the home of Michael Cook, and was moved to Upper Canada Village from its location in Aultsville at the time of the Seaway expansion. Aultsville was one of the “Lost Villages” that were submerged when the St. Lawrence Seaway and International Hydro Electric project required the flooding of the region.

The former owner of the house, Michael Cook, was a man of note. A prosperous farmer in the region, he is remembered now with a marker at the Upper Canada Bird Sanctuary, near the former site of Aultsville. His achievement? In 1881, he imported the first Holstein Friesian cattle into Canada.

In 1981, the centennial of the event was commemorated on the same marker. The plaque notes that the cattle from this shipment formed the foundation of the Holstein breed in Canada. Today, about 90% of dairy cows in Canada are Holsteins.

Poplar Vagabond Gall Aphid

I recently noticed this little tree standing by the roadside. It caught my eye because it appeared to be decorated with round balls at the ends of its branches. Very odd.

The little tree had already lost most of its leaves, but the few left clinging to the top branches suggested it was an Eastern Cottonwood (Populus deltoides), a member of the poplar genus.

Upon taking a closer look, I found that the balls were actually crinkled masses of some sort of black material. It felt solid to the touch, firm but not rock hard. I looked at the other trees in the area, but only this one seemed to be infected by…whatever it was! My first thought was that it was some kind of fungal infection.

I took a few photographs and later shared them with Birdgirl, who found the answer for me. (It’s good to have a zoologist daughter!) I wasn’t looking at a fungal infection at all. The odd misshapen clumps are the galls of the Poplar Vagabond Gall Aphid (Mordwilkoja vagabunda).

With a bit of research on the internet, I found some interesting information about the tiny insects that cause the galls. Their life cycle is complex and not fully understood. The tiny aphids, ranging in size from 2/100ths to 18/100ths of an inch, can be winged or wingless and pale green to dark brown in colour. There are multiple generations in a year and they can vary in appearance and habit from one generation to the next.

The aphids overwinter as eggs inside old galls and bark crevices. These hatch in the spring and the wee nymphs gather at the tips of the new shoots, where they pierce the new plant tissue and suck the plant juices. This feeding transforms the emerging leaves into twisted, bladder-like galls. The gall encloses the nymphs, which mature rapidly and the young aphids quickly produce hundreds of offspring. As their gall home matures, it becomes brown and dry, splitting to allow new winged generations of aphids to exit and migrate to their unknown secondary host, possible the roots of grasses, where they continue to feed and reproduce over the summer. In late summer, winged aphids return to the dried, brown galls and lay the eggs that will become next spring’s new generation.

As the galls grow older, they change colour from an initial green, to dark brown, to black, and hang on the tree after the leaves have fallen. Although there may be many galls on a tree, they cause little harm to the tree. Since the aphids return to the same galls they left in the spring, the same tree tends to be infected year after year, while nearby trees remain uninfested.

Sleep tight, little aphids-to-be. Enjoy your long winter nap.

Life’s a Beech

We have had a wonderful display of fall leaves this year. Fall leaf colour is the result of leaf senescence, the process by which trees recover valuable mineral nutrients such as phosphorus and nitrogen from leaves before winter. Leaves change colour when chlorophyll synthesis stops and the current chlorophyll degrades, revealing the yellow carotenoids in the leaves. Anthocyanins, which are produced in some leaves as the chlorophyll breaks down, give red and purplish tints. Dry, sunny days and cool nights promote the formation of anthocyanins.

The forest is beginning to open up as the leaves drop from the trees and the undergrowth dies back. The dense green forest of just a month ago has been replaced by the bare branches of trees and a carpet of colored leaves underfoot.

Not all the trees in the forest are bare. Some tree species hang on to their leaves a bit longer than others, and the copper leaves that now stand out in the forest make the American Beech (Fagus grandifolia) trees easy to find. Some beech leaves will persist through the winter. The dead leaves that are retained are termed marcescent, and are most common on beeches and oaks. For more on marcescent leaves, see Dressed for Winter

The leaves of some of the smaller beech trees were yellow, rather than copper. It is usually the youngest trees that retain dead leaves, so perhaps this difference in marcescence is reflected in the different leaf colours. Thanks to Birdgirl for this suggestion!

Beeches are trees of the climax forest, often found growing with larger trees like sugar maple, red oak, white ash and white pine, where they thrive in the shade of their bigger cousins. They are slow growers, but can live to be 200 to 300 years old. Beech trees often re-propagate by producing a colony of clones that sucker from the roots of the adult tree.

Like other species such as the White Elms (Ulmus americana), which were decimated by Dutch Elm Disease as the result of a fungus imported from Europe, and the American Chestnut (Castanea dentata), nearly wiped out by an imported Asian bark fungus (Cryphonectria parasitica), beech trees have also been attacked by a foreign invader. The beech scale (Cryptococcus fagisuga), a tiny insect with formidable piercing and sucking mouth mechanisms, arrived in America with an imported European Beech and, along with a companion fungus, has laid waste to beeches across eastern North America.

Beeches have beautiful, smooth grey bark. They make an inviting surface for initial-carvers, but the wound inflicted by this destructive practice can provide an entry point for disease. Below, the bark of this Shagbark Hickory (Carya ovata), growing close to the beech tree in the opening photograph, provides an interesting contrast to the smooth beech bark.

Frosty Morning

When I went out to the barn on Monday morning, I was greeted by a sparkling world. It was a beautiful start to the day. The sun, of which we have seen precious little of late, was shining for all it was worth. The wind was nowhere to be found, and in spite of the frost coating every blade of grass, the day felt comfortable and inviting.

My first stop is at the barn, where I dole out the morning ration of grain, just a handful, to Mousie and Czarina and Louis. It’s such a small amount, it’s little more than a token treat, but they wait anxiously for this little goodie each morning. Lately, I’ve been able to supplement their usual tidbit with an apple or two, windfalls purchased in bulk for the animals from the local orchard. Apples are Mousie’s favorite treat.

Apples, carrots, a bit of grain, it’s all good with Czarina. She seems very content these days, less fractious than her old self. Maybe old age, or at least maturity, is mellowing her.

Louis much prefers corn, but corn season is done for another year. He likes apples better than carrots, if that’s all that’s on offer. Soon everyone has finished their little treat and they have settled down to a pleasant morning nibbling on their hay.

I leave the horses to their breakfast and walk out to the field to admire the frost. Already the sun is melting it away.

For just a little while longer, though, every stem of goldenrod, every patch of clover, is daintily etched with frost.

Down by the pond, the morning is still, quiet and calm, and peaceful.

Finally, I head back inside for my own breakfast. Momcat is stretched out on the windowsill, enjoying the sunny morning too.