a day at the nursery

The nursery might be my favorite part of my job. Collecting seed, sowing it, watching seedlings pop out of the soil and grow . . . it's hopeful. I work with amazing volunteers who spend valuable time and energy doing something good. They don't have to do this and they don't have to be here.

Others visit the nursery too. Prompted by the volunteers to find out who was munching the clarkia at the greenhouse demo garden, we set up our motion sensor camera. We caught this little deer walking through in the evening when everyone else had gone home.


I love it here. I love growing plants. I love tuning into the seasons and the micro-climates. I love the dedicated people who care.

fledgling barn swallows

Just today, under the eaves outside our research offices, fledged a family of barn swallows.

I had no idea when I started this job almost a year ago how much I would watch birds.

One little bird sat on the edge of a table so quiet and still. Still and quiet as I was, an adult boldly flew right in front of my face, trying to scare me off. Adult bird and baby bird were in the middle of something and I was not invited to the fledge party. Still I watched them as they sat on the gutters and looked around while parents flew back and forth, coaxing them out of the comfort of the courtyard.

under the oaks

I spent a day under the oaks monitoring what's growing. We had cows grazing last season, as they will again this season, on a small area of the Reserve. They ate the leaves on the oaks and everything underneath. I go on either side of the electric fence and write down what is there. I spooked an owl twice on my monitoring journey.

Then I spent some time weeding around the 500 or so plants we planted in the nasturtium. The bottom picture shows the native clusters of woodmint, mugwort, and beeplant thriving. I am totally jazzed about this project. The nasturtium is easy to pull. The ground is easy to plant in. The poison oak is far away. Volunteers helped in every step of this project so far. I'd like to double the planting next year.

native flowers bloom after cape ivy removed

These natives are flowering in an area once completely covered in cape ivy. Seeds lying in wait and persisting. Two of these, phacelia (top) and miniature lotus (bottom), are new to our Elkhorn Slough plant list. The miniature lotus is about 4 inches long and about an inch high. The flowers only a few millimeters. I find them because I crawl on my hands and knees to pull weeds and look closely at every plant about to flower. I think it's being so intimate with a new place and witnessing Spring. Even though I grew up in these hills, I didn't know these plants then. Now I am so close and familiar with them on a regular basis. It's like any new relationship - you can't wait to see them again.

The Slough expresses itself

Just when I thought I would take a hiatus, the Slough explodes and I have to share. I had a day of discovery and I fell completely in love with a new flower. It's a little rush. Pink curly stigmas. . . I swear if I ever start a girl band that would be our name.

I need to go back and see if the stem is round or flat. That will determine what its name is, according to modern botanists. Though it is what it is, despite any name we give. It's growing next to a beautiful wet meadow that is off limits to the public.


Then I went to scout for seeds of an annual lupine I was SURE was growing in a field off trail. I found my lupine (yay!) and then turned to see bluedicks. I don't see many of these out here so I got in closer to take a picture and saw this spider taking down a bee. Again, the Slough expresses itself.

haitus

I am going on a haitus from the restoration blog. I'll return when interesting things are happening around the Slough. Of course interesting things are always happening around the Slough! I'll return when I want to write about it OR if I can get others to share their stories about the restoration efforts.

Meanwhile, the flowers are exploding. The weeds are growing over my head. The ticks are crawling and biting. The poison oak is leafing out with oil and shine. The freshwater is drying. The wind is blowing. The birds are nesting. The bees are pollinating. I could go on and on and on and on. . .

the art of restoration

Restoration is not always done by the rule and law of peer reviewed journal articles. Often it's the subtleties of finding oak seedlings where you thought you would plant them next year. Or forgetting you had seed for many years only to find that once sown, they germinated better than any other batch you'd ever sown. It's the observation with all the senses; spending lots of time in the field; taking copious notes. Then, just when you thought you had something figured out, mama nature pulls the rug right out from under your feet.
I'm humbled out there.