November News, from leaves to windows

 

Not surprisingly, the chokecherry tree in LaBonte Park that I've been following this year is mostly bare, only a few dead leaves were hanging on. Just as well, it was much too windy for leaf photography. But it was a good day for black and white.

The photo above shows the major branch damaged by heavy snow in early June after the tree had leaved out. It seemed to do just fine through the summer, with healthy leaves, flowers and fruit. Will it survive winter?

Next I spent time composing with lenticels. Once home, I asked Google if they truly are lenticels. Indeed, they are. Next I asked if it's true that trees "breathe" through their lenticels. Again, affirmative, at least some of the time (more when young?). Air can pass through lenticels because the tissue is spongy, with more space between cells.

Not only was it windy (23 mph with gusts to 36), it was cold, 34º F. Maybe that's why the park was empty of people. Or maybe due to Wyoming's huge spike in covid cases. No longer can folks simply cowboy-up; we really do need to follow safety guidelines.

Even worse, our county—Albany—is second highest in the state in reported cases over the last week. Only Weston County has more. Weston has a prison; we have the state's only university. As of yesterday, students are sent home as soon as they test negative, to continue classes online. 

I wasn't totally alone in the park. American crows foraged in the dried grass. Mr. and Mrs. Mallard sailed among reflected trees on Stink Lake, which never produced much of a stink this year. Maybe the City found a solution.

Yet in spite of the cold, wind and pandemic, I'm happy. As of last Saturday, we have a new president-elect, and I have new well-sealed windows in my sunroom—major upgrades in both cases!

Test-driving the new windows.

This is my contribution to the monthly virtual gathering of tree-followers kindly hosted by The Squirrel Basket. More news here.  New members are always welcome; join us for a good time!

My boxelder finally accepts the inevitable …

Standard approach photo—boxelder on left, in nook formed by warehouse walls.

National Weather Service Observed Weather for Laramie, Wyoming; November 10, 2018, 9:53 AM (MDT):  partly cloudy; 36º F; humidity 31%; winds westerly, 28 mph with gusts to 38 mph.

Conditions were not ideal for plant photography, but I had no choice. There would be no other opportunities to visit the boxelder I’m following if I wanted to post my report before the deadline. So off we went.

Even from a distance, the change was obvious. A month ago, the boxelder still was covered in green leaves, even though most other trees had turned color or were bare. Now the boxelder is bare too, except for a few memories.

Leaf still hanging on (boxelder leaves are compound).

Amazingly persistent spring flowers; note anthers at ends of dangling filaments (male tree).

I saw many more remnant petioles (visible below), which I mentioned last month. I had no idea that boxelders drop leaf blades but not petioles, or at least not yet. Do maples do this? (both boxelder and maples are in the genus Acer) Any other plants, do you know?

Abundant buds promise that spring will come. Though I never really doubt that it will, I still find comfort in buds.

Flower and leaf buds.

A tumbleweed had lodged in branches near the base of the tree (straw-colored, mid-photo below). This was no surprise. The field across the river to the west, part of the Territorial Prison tourist attraction, was cleared of vegetation a few years ago, I have no idea why. Now it’s perfect habitat for tumbleweeds, and every year around this time, they cut loose and head into town, dropping seeds as they go. This one is kochia (Kochia scoparia), the most common of our tumbleweeds.

The Canada thistles along the base of the warehouse wall were still green but seriously wilted. I think they're done for. This is Cirsium arvense, one of the most noxious of our noxious weeds.

Next I checked on the little lilac bush that I discovered last month in the field just west of the warehouse. When the surrounding railroad ties, palettes and debris were removed recently, the cleanup crew left it standing—so nice, and I smile whenever I see it. Now it too is bare of leaves. But there are plenty of promising buds.

A small building used to stand in this field; perhaps that explains the lilac bush. I looked through my photos, and found one from April 2014 with the building. Sure enough, it stood in the area of the little lilac. Whitman’s lilac came to mind—the one that last in a dooryard bloomed—but I think their circumstances differ. This lilac has survived in the absence of a dooryard, and hopefully there's more blooming ahead!

A visit to the First Ice Art of the Season exhibition

As you may have heard, the jet stream curved far north around a ridge of good weather and then curved south, followed by the infamous polar vortex ... or “winter” as we call it.  Indian Summer had been soooo beautiful, with highs in the 50s!  Then Winter came screaming in.

“I’M HERE!!!” announced Winter.

It was -22º F, but my new field assistant insisted we do our daily investigation of the river.

Winter's sudden arrival was a shock, and I can’t say I’m feeling all that great about it.  But there are antidotes.  One will be skiing once there’s enough snow.  Another is ice art.  Jack Frost followed close on the heels of Winter, and has been making his beautiful hoarfrost sculptures on the river ice.

Ice ferns, needles and stars (click on images to view).

The river was completely open three days ago.  Now it's mostly frozen over.  There are a few small openings with flowing water, but they won’t last.

A bit of open water.  Wood things in ice are anchored logs – fish habitat.

The frozen surface is covered with a mix of snow and hoarfrost.

What do beavers do in winter when the river freezes?  Hibernate in their lodge?  UPDATE:  Beavers don't hibernate; see note from Nina F in Comments.

Pile of sticks on left is a lodge.  Beavers were busy here earlier this year, what are they doing now?

The cottonwood tree on the left is the one I’m following.

I post about ice art every winter.  We are so lucky to have it ... thanks, Jack!

Jack Frost, from Central Park in Winter by Thomas Nast, 1864.

Getting to Know a New Friend(s?)

Lucy of Loose and Leafy has stepped up her efforts to organize and encourage tree-followers.  This is very kind, as tree-following is always interesting and it's fun to share discoveries.  We choose a tree to follow through the year, and there's so much to learn.  What kind is it and how do we know?  When do leaves appear? flowers, fruit?  Who lives there?  How does it catch the sunrise?  Does it do justice to the golden hour just before sunset?  These are all important things, and it’s our responsibility to find out.

Stirred by Lucy’s enthusiasm, I took my camera with me on my morning walk along the Laramie River.  It’s still winter here, so I got side-tracked by the beauty of river ice.

Center foreground -- our tracks from last week, now inverted because most of the snow has blown away.

Footbridge across the river, once a railroad bridge.

Shadow patterns cast by grass, brush and trees.

My field companion, as faithful to me as his shadow is to him.

I returned to my mission and soon chose a tree for 2014 (below left).  Or maybe I should say “trees” as there are multiple trunks.  Most of the trees along the river grow this way, in clumps.  Is this a single individual, connected underground?

Winter landscapes can seem so dreary.  But if we can get out of that black-and-white mode caused by snow, we realize there's quite a bit of color after all.

Another view -- the tree stands over its cousins, the willows.

Its twigs appear bare at first glance.  A closer look (click on image) reveals buds ready for spring.

Trees often are challenging to identify without leaves, but I gave it a shot.  I ran a dead leaf through the Rocky Mountain Tree Finder, partly because I love dichotomous keys and this one is so easy to use.  How does it work?  At each step I pick one of two choices, thereby eliminating a substantial number of tree species from consideration.  I continue this way until the only one left is the one I’m standing under!  It seems like magic, even after all these years.

In this case, the path to identification required 14 steps, including the following:

1) Leaves needle or scale-like OR ordinary?  ordinary

2) Leaves compound, composed of several leaflets OR simple?  simple

3) Leaves paired on opposite sides of twigs OR not?  not (no leaves, so checked leaf scars)

4) Leaves lobed OR not?  not

5) Leaf stalks (petioles) longer than 1 inch OR less than?  less than

... etc. ...

10) Leaf margin with big & little teeth OR single-sized teeth?  single-sized

Leaf margin with single-sized teeth.

and finally:

14) Leaf tips often blunt rather than sharply pointed OR not?  often blunt rather than sharply pointed (see illustrations below)

It appears to be the narrowleaf cottonwood, Populus angustifolia (click on image for more information).

I also attempted to identify the tree with the Winter Tree Finder.  This is challenging because the useful characters are harder to see and not as familiar.  I had to look at terminal buds, leaf scars and vein scars -- so let’s digress.

From the Winter Tree Finder.

The terminal bud is where the twig will start the year's growth.  Leaf scars are left when leaves fall off.  They contain vein scars -- remnants of conduits (phloem, xylem) for transporting water, nutrients, carbohydrates and more.

Now back to identification.  I went straight to the cottonwood section.  The Winter Tree Finder says terminal buds of cottonwoods are symmetrical.  According to the Audubon Society's Field Guide to North American Trees, Western Region, terminal buds of the narrowleaf cottonwood are resinous and smell of balsam.  Let’s look:

The terminal bud is indeed symmetrical, and somewhat resinous too.  I didn't detect a balsam odor.

The Winter Tree Finder says leaf scars of cottonwoods are crescent-shaped with three vein scars.  Sure enough, there are three vein scars on each crescent-shaped leaf scar:

The leaf scar below the bud is from last year; the one near the base of the twig is probably two years old.

The terminal buds, leaf scars, and vein scars of my tree all match those of cottonwoods.  But I couldn’t go any further in the Winter Tree Finder because it covers the eastern USA, and Wyoming is in the west.

I'm sure this is a cottonwood and probably a narrowleaf cottonwood.  The bark looks right:  “smooth, becoming gray-brown and furrowed into flat ridges at the base” (Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Trees, Western Region).  It's growing in the right kind of habitat -- lowlands or near water -- and well within its range (see previous map).

I will check my tentative identification after the tree leafs out, but first it will bloom and I'll need to investigate that as well.  Cottonwoods have unisexual flowers, either male or female, and the sexes are on separate trees (dioecious).  Thus I’ll learn whether this clump is male or female -- or maybe both, suggesting these are separate trees after all.

Cottonwoods along the Laramie River, in winter morning sun.

However I shouldn't dwell on tree activity right now.  It's only February.  Cottonwood flowers and leaves won't appear for months yet, probably in May, at least that's what I think I remember.  I don't always notice -- but this year I will.

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