{ Category Archives: flora and fauna }
I’ve always liked to use chalk when roughing things out on wood. Lately I’ve taken to scouring the beaches during negative low tides in search of seashells for making my marks. The Pacific Razor Clam is ideal, softer than the East Coast equivalent, but hard enough to make a clean scratch, and loaded with calcium carbonate to leave a crisp white line.
the surfboard originated in Hawaii, where local woods were shaped for specific waves
I’ve body-surfed all my life and have a natural feel for wave mechanics, but I’m finally getting ready to learn to surf on a board. Being a ‘wood guy’ with access to local mills and several decent breaks within a few miles, my first step will be to shape my own board. Luckily, my first surfboard will double as an integral part of our NOMO (non-motorized transportation) exhibition we’re developing as artists in residence at Kohler Arts over the summer.
Believe it or not, Sheboygan, Wisconsin has one of the best fresh water breaks in the world. So I’ve conceived of my surfboard as a freshwater longboard indigenous to the shores of Lake Michigan, modeled on the early surfboards native to Hawaii, which were shaped of local Koa and Balsa. Because freshwater is less buoyant than saltwater, I’ve been researching the specific gravity of Lake Region woods, looking for large trees with straight, clear grain and low specific gravity for maximal flotation and easy carving. I’ve discovered that American Cottonwood (Populus freemontii) still grows prolifically in the lowlands of Wisconsin, and with a specific gravity of around 0.31, is ideal for shaping a surfboard. The tree grows equally well along the Pacific Coast of Northern California, so I’ll make a prototype and test it locally.
To follow the development of our wowhaus artist-in-residence project at the JM Kohler Arts Center, please click here and scroll down.
action at Mavericks portends the arrival of spring to the N. Pacific (public domain)
In West Sonoma County, early signs of spring are typically in sync with the arrival of a huge south swell, epitomized by the epic surf at Mavericks, about 100 miles down the coast. With more daylight and warming temperatures over the past few weeks, our hens have begun laying eggs, the acacia trees are in flower, the willow’s catkin is giving way to leaf, and the wild plum trees are beginning to blossom along exposed slopes. Yellow mustard flowers fill grazing meadows, vineyards and apple orchards, the clover beginning to recede. As we pack for the coming week of vacation on the beach north of Puerto Vallarta, I anticipate returning to a flood of fruit trees in full flower.
the acacia trees are in bloom along the Sonoma Coast
the willows are looking lively along the streams
To read more of my postings on cyclical, seasonal events, please click here and scroll down.
Giant roots of mysterious origin have been washing ashore along the Sonoma Coast
Like B Movie aliens readying for invasion, a mysterious crop of giant ‘beach tubers’ have blown ashore after the last string of storms and unusually high tides. I’m tempted to plant one to see what grows, but have seen enough bad movies to be wary.
Black chanterelle (Craterellus cornucopioides)
The Late Season (text and photo by Josef Szuecs)
As I mentioned in an earlier post, mushrooms generally fruit in species dependent windows of time. The exact timing of these windows vary from year to year, affected by a number of factors. In the SF Bay area, we can start looking for a few wonderful late season mushrooms in December and January. Namely, Black chanterelles (Craterellus cornucopioides), Hedgehogs (Hydnum repandum and H. umbilicatum), and the Yellow-foot chanterelle (Cantharellus tubaeformis or Craterellus infundibuliformis).
rows of mature olive trees at the Urban Tree Farm (photo: Ene Osteraas-Constable)
I’ve asked Ene to write an occasional post for Deep Craft, and am proud to share her first story (all text and images by Ene Osteraas-Constable):
I greet the deluge of the season’s first heavy rains with relief and contentment, knowing that all the bare root trees I planted are securely in the ground, benefiting from the deluge. Cherry, peach, plum, pluot, fig; the trees all look the same when bought in this juvenile, leafless state; bare branches with a flurry of fine roots beneath. This is, however, the ideal time for planting, while the small trees are dormant.
There is a sense of excitement and exuberance in the nurseries during January’s grey, wet days. Gardeners converge for this eagerly anticipated event: the bare root trees are in! As we mill about the saplings, I smile happily at the elderly couple that proudly share their bare root plum tree: “Isn’t it beautiful? We may not make it long enough to harvest the fruit,” they say, “but isn’t it a beauty?”. Planting a tree is truly a gesture of hope; an investment in the future that I can understand better than any stock or bond.
bare root trees, shipped while dormant, ready for planting
I leave the nursery thinking there should be a holiday, a national day of planting trees. Then I remember Arbor Day. Julius Sterling Morton had the prescience to establish this holiday in 1872. While each state has their own date for Arbor Day, I advocate a National Holiday, allowing everyone a single day off from work to plant or tend to trees in their community.
“I can’t live without the green trees, and nor can you. I’m humbled by the understanding that they could get along without me though! They sustain us, not the other way round.” -Wangari Maathai
Click here to read more about the revolutionary impact of planting trees in Africa.
a sea lion briefly beached itself on Doran Beach this morning as we were walking by
During our morning walk along Doran Beach, Ene and I were greeted by a friendly sea lion, who watched us from the surf before proceeding to briefly beach himself within yards of us as if to say hello. We’ve made hundreds of trips to this beach over the past few years, but have never seen this kind of behavior. Of course, this would be the one time I forgot to pack my camera- luckily, I had my trusty cell phone. As a corollary to the Murphy’s Law adage, anything that can go wrong will go wrong, I would add, be equally prepared for when things go right.
As any crafts person can attest, there are occasions in the course of making that deliver uncanny coincidences, yet we most often do not prepare for success with the same ardent fervor that we do calamity. I’m not advocating unbridled risk-taking when it comes to safety or security, but suggest making room for the little successes that share equal probability with failure.
the sea lion returns to the sea after about ten minutes of staring us down
Note: After some thought, my theory about why the sea lion would behave this way is that he thought we might have food for him, mistaking me for a Bodega Bay fisherman, whose boats the sea lions are known to trail. Bundled up in my yellow slicker and ‘Sitka sneakers’ for a chilly morning hike, with a two week beard, I kind of resemble those ‘old sea captain’ carvings (see below). I’d love to hear if anyone has had a similar encounter.
I’m beginning to make an image archive of ‘old sea captain’ carvings