December 6th, 2016
Sunny with few clouds, no breeze
Crisp, low humidity, 39 degrees
Long time no see, Ravenna! I kind of like it when there are longer intervals between journal entries, because it leads to a greater shock upon viewing my site. My first finding was that the heavy rain washed away some of the stream bank, which exposed some rocks, most of which were about the size of a plum or smaller. These rocks were mostly smooth and light in color, most definitely brought there by the Vashon ice sheet.
Rocks Exposed on the Side of the Stream
When I crossed the stream, I saw just how sparse and bare the site has become. Winter is like a steam roller, allowing gravity to take over, and pull everything towards the Earth. Only the very highest leaves on the salmon berry bushes remain, and only the thickest patches even remain standing. The sword fern bush is looking pretty slim as well. It's funny how in winter animals gain, and plants lose.
View of the Main Site
The wetland area surrounding my main site is completely flattened. You can see for ~7 meters on each side, where at the beginning of this quarter, you couldn't see through the thick foliage at all. All of the leafy marsh plants are gone for good this time. Not even the thick stalks remain standing. The cedar tee has also lost quite a bit of oomph- the limbs are more exposed than they were ten weeks ago.
Sparse Wetland
Cedar Tree
In the 1 square-meter magnitude of my site, the bird feathers are still there. Only the base of each feather is left, the rest having decomposed. But you can still that they're feathers. Salmon berry and Maple leaves decay on the moss-covered buttress, and I can see one mushroom has popped up in a different spot. All of the mushrooms I've seen growing on this spot have been the same kind. Maybe they're mycorrhizal, and they help the Thuja plicata?
Photo of the 1-meter Spot
The mud is at its worst, my boot sunk in the ground by about two inches! It's also very quiet here today, I can definitely hear the creek and the bird calls more distinctly. Or maybe I'm just starting to pay better attention to the natural world around me.
Now for the final touch:
BEFORE AND AFTER
Before
After
Obviously, a lot of death and decay has occurred here. Notice how there are only a few leaves covering the forest floor in October, but you can't even see the ground in December. Ferns and Salmon berries used to cramp around the Western Red Cedar, but now the tree stands alone.
More thoughts
I will most definitely come back to my site after break is over; I'd like to keep checking in, to see the reverse process- SPRING! However, I'll probably only visit once every two weeks or so, and not for such lengths (I'm such a weakling for the cold).
So this is not goodbye. I love Ravenna park, and will absolutely run through here quite often. As a small "service project" for my last journal entry of the quarter, I pulled out some invasive English ivy at my central point. And don't worry, I didn't just discard it back in the forest- I'm composted it once I got back to campus.
This class has inspired me to be a better steward of the Earth.
PART 2: FINAL THOUGHTS
1.) As I observed my site, I realized just how quickly decay happens. The trees shed their fall leaves, covering the ground entirely. Then, two weeks later, the leaves were almost all incorporated with the soil; they had either become sodden and damp ghosts of their former selves, or simply non-existent.
My observational skills became sharper as weeks went by. I suddenly knew all but one of the plants at my site, and would find new patterns every time I went back. After the lichen and fungi units, I found myself spotting examples everywhere (even if I couldn't identify them). I started to pay more attention with my other senses, especially after our bird watching sessions in the field. My ears started to open up, which increased my radius for observation, because I knew what was around me even if I couldn't see it.
We began this class by discussing the anthropocentric tendencies of Western naturalists, in terms of how we tend to view nature as something that happens around us. However, with the documentation of phenology each week, I have become a humbled and more realistic naturalist. Watching my site each week, or every other week, has enlightened me; the natural world exists without a human eye, and simply being there to view it is an honor that humans are given, not a right that we are reserved.
2.) Even though I grew up here, I thought of the Pacific Northwest as a pretty homogeneous region; full of pines trees (which I couldn't differentiate), and Salal everywhere. No joke, I really thought that Salal had no boundaries or preferences. I thought our the whole landscape West of the Cascades was simply the same on all accounts.
But when we visited different locations both on campus and around the state, I learned just how wrong I was. Washington state is a rich and diverse state, with prairies, mountains, old growth forests, and a distinct coastline ecosystem. I saw firsthand many of the different vegetation zones we learned about, from the oak-savannas to the mountain-hemlock/noble fir area.
Not only did I see the diversity, but I learned its causation as well. Knowing the impact of the ocean, altitude, and mountains on regional climate was an important part of my appreciation for each site we visited. I appreciate this class because we focused so heavily on both cause and effect.
3.) To intimately know a place, you must be familiar with all (or almost all) of the general and minor processes, patterns, and interactions that occur. But to be able to fully understand these things, you must be able to identify species and elements of the environment on an individual level as well. For example, if you want to know what kind of mushroom it is that you're seeing in the field, you would need to know about its growth form (gilled, polypore, Bolete, coral), and you would have to pay attention to the environment that it's in. If it's growing next to a certain type of tree, it might be mycorrhizal. And if a mushroom is mycorrhizal, knowing the impact of the symbiosis is another important concept that would add to the understanding of this ecosystem.
Knowledge of specific places can be compared as well, which is why it's important to observe all sorts of ecosystems. An example of this is our study of lichen, where we hunted for lichen in the city park, and on Whidbey island. Our examination of lichen in both areas allowed us to understand the affects of air quality and other aspects on lichen growth.
This knowledge can be for ethnobotanic purposes, such as edible or medicinal plants, or can simply be for the sake of satiating curiosity. I believe that the pursuit of knowledge and cognizance without a goal often leads to the most serendipitous results. I think this is especially true in the case of natural history, because there is such a huge capacity for unexpected connections.
4.) For me, this class has been both educational and emotionally beneficial. During my first week in Seattle, I was very upset about having to live in a city. I had grown up in a rural setting, and coming to the "concrete jungle" was a real struggle. I felt like I was being buried in a pit, where people are stacked on top of each other like cans of sardines. So being able to get away from campus and going into the woods was a really healing part of acclimating to the University of Washington.
This class has also been a sort of gateway to the Environmental Studies department here, which really sparked my interest. During fall quarter, I concurrently took a seminar that allowed me to visit the POE building and meet with students and staff. I also had Beth Wheat as a guest lecturer, which inspired me to take her class during Winter quarter. Those experiences, coupled with Enviro 280, made me realize that I would very much like to pursue a degree in Environmental studies. Being able to integrate humanities, specifically education, into ecological studies would be so fulfilling and exciting.
5.) Over the length of this quarter, I think I've become addicted to plant identification. It started when I bought the plant handbook. I kept it by my bed and flipped through the waxy pages even before the first day of class. Then, when we went out to Ravenna for the first time, I knew I was done for. I knew many of the plants on the first day, and was a little too eager to show what I knew (I regret being such a know-it-all). I was way too excited to have to identify new plants, and was always antsy in my 8:30 class before field work because I was so amped to get to the park or to UBNA.
It really went downhill right before the midterm. When we were "forced" to learn the Latin names for each plant, I became neurotic. I loved the process of memorizing the names of every single plant. Even now, I look over my flashcards about once a week, and I keep my eye out for plants that I know wherever I go.
This constant hunt for familiarity made me realize that wilderness isn't a place you go, and nature isn't always a far-away escape. That's what has really helped me acclimate to living in a city, knowing that I can go to a park, or look next to a parking lot, and find native plants growing through the cracks.
PART 2: FINAL THOUGHTS
1.) As I observed my site, I realized just how quickly decay happens. The trees shed their fall leaves, covering the ground entirely. Then, two weeks later, the leaves were almost all incorporated with the soil; they had either become sodden and damp ghosts of their former selves, or simply non-existent.
My observational skills became sharper as weeks went by. I suddenly knew all but one of the plants at my site, and would find new patterns every time I went back. After the lichen and fungi units, I found myself spotting examples everywhere (even if I couldn't identify them). I started to pay more attention with my other senses, especially after our bird watching sessions in the field. My ears started to open up, which increased my radius for observation, because I knew what was around me even if I couldn't see it.
We began this class by discussing the anthropocentric tendencies of Western naturalists, in terms of how we tend to view nature as something that happens around us. However, with the documentation of phenology each week, I have become a humbled and more realistic naturalist. Watching my site each week, or every other week, has enlightened me; the natural world exists without a human eye, and simply being there to view it is an honor that humans are given, not a right that we are reserved.
2.) Even though I grew up here, I thought of the Pacific Northwest as a pretty homogeneous region; full of pines trees (which I couldn't differentiate), and Salal everywhere. No joke, I really thought that Salal had no boundaries or preferences. I thought our the whole landscape West of the Cascades was simply the same on all accounts.
But when we visited different locations both on campus and around the state, I learned just how wrong I was. Washington state is a rich and diverse state, with prairies, mountains, old growth forests, and a distinct coastline ecosystem. I saw firsthand many of the different vegetation zones we learned about, from the oak-savannas to the mountain-hemlock/noble fir area.
Not only did I see the diversity, but I learned its causation as well. Knowing the impact of the ocean, altitude, and mountains on regional climate was an important part of my appreciation for each site we visited. I appreciate this class because we focused so heavily on both cause and effect.
3.) To intimately know a place, you must be familiar with all (or almost all) of the general and minor processes, patterns, and interactions that occur. But to be able to fully understand these things, you must be able to identify species and elements of the environment on an individual level as well. For example, if you want to know what kind of mushroom it is that you're seeing in the field, you would need to know about its growth form (gilled, polypore, Bolete, coral), and you would have to pay attention to the environment that it's in. If it's growing next to a certain type of tree, it might be mycorrhizal. And if a mushroom is mycorrhizal, knowing the impact of the symbiosis is another important concept that would add to the understanding of this ecosystem.
Knowledge of specific places can be compared as well, which is why it's important to observe all sorts of ecosystems. An example of this is our study of lichen, where we hunted for lichen in the city park, and on Whidbey island. Our examination of lichen in both areas allowed us to understand the affects of air quality and other aspects on lichen growth.
This knowledge can be for ethnobotanic purposes, such as edible or medicinal plants, or can simply be for the sake of satiating curiosity. I believe that the pursuit of knowledge and cognizance without a goal often leads to the most serendipitous results. I think this is especially true in the case of natural history, because there is such a huge capacity for unexpected connections.
4.) For me, this class has been both educational and emotionally beneficial. During my first week in Seattle, I was very upset about having to live in a city. I had grown up in a rural setting, and coming to the "concrete jungle" was a real struggle. I felt like I was being buried in a pit, where people are stacked on top of each other like cans of sardines. So being able to get away from campus and going into the woods was a really healing part of acclimating to the University of Washington.
This class has also been a sort of gateway to the Environmental Studies department here, which really sparked my interest. During fall quarter, I concurrently took a seminar that allowed me to visit the POE building and meet with students and staff. I also had Beth Wheat as a guest lecturer, which inspired me to take her class during Winter quarter. Those experiences, coupled with Enviro 280, made me realize that I would very much like to pursue a degree in Environmental studies. Being able to integrate humanities, specifically education, into ecological studies would be so fulfilling and exciting.
5.) Over the length of this quarter, I think I've become addicted to plant identification. It started when I bought the plant handbook. I kept it by my bed and flipped through the waxy pages even before the first day of class. Then, when we went out to Ravenna for the first time, I knew I was done for. I knew many of the plants on the first day, and was a little too eager to show what I knew (I regret being such a know-it-all). I was way too excited to have to identify new plants, and was always antsy in my 8:30 class before field work because I was so amped to get to the park or to UBNA.
It really went downhill right before the midterm. When we were "forced" to learn the Latin names for each plant, I became neurotic. I loved the process of memorizing the names of every single plant. Even now, I look over my flashcards about once a week, and I keep my eye out for plants that I know wherever I go.
This constant hunt for familiarity made me realize that wilderness isn't a place you go, and nature isn't always a far-away escape. That's what has really helped me acclimate to living in a city, knowing that I can go to a park, or look next to a parking lot, and find native plants growing through the cracks.
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