the · affected · provincial’s · almanack

Found this Pyncoporus cinnabarinus in Bill's woodpile. Don't you just want to bite it? It's an inedible species, though. This specimen is quite large.

Bill's septic mound is strangely bucolic. Completely covered in moss and mushrooms.

I suppose it's a cinnabar chanterelle, but the color is quite golden.

A rather fitting species name for this bolete.

Finding these everywhere right now. Bill has them growing right next to his deck, the lucky devil.

I was making my way to my friend Bill's house this evening; I had just returned from Rarefind Nursery, where Jason had kindly given me some sundews (they've been far too generous to me there, so I insisted on paying for them). Bill had requested some sundews, so I was going to his house to put them into his bog. (I'm also catsitting for him this weekend: he's off to Walden Pond to party with E.O. Wilson. Real hotshot, that Bill.)

But things took a tragic turn as I drove down High Street: traffic had stopped, and people were kneeling over a child-sized mound on the shoulder of the road. Fearing the worst, I pulled over and ran to see what could be done.

Turns out it wasn't a child, but a large black shepherd-like dog. It was still alive, but gravely injured: there was a large open wound across its lower back, and the dog was bleeding profusely from its mouth. We picked up the dog and got it wrapped in a blanket, ostensibly to prevent shock--but it was clear to everyone that the dog didn't have long to live. Truth is everyone felt helpless, and just wanted to make the poor dog comfortable.

From what I gathered, the owner's daughter had accidentally let the young dog loose. The dog then bolted down the block and into the main thoroughfare of the town during rush hour.

The hysterical owners and their daughter arrived a minute after I did. Two minutes later, the dog was dead.

There was nothing else to do, except get out of the way. I gathered up the bloody paper towels into a trash bag, handed a clean one to the crying woman on the curb, and walked away.

Largest station of Monotropa uniflora I've ever found: hundreds of them. This wet season has apparently been very good to the fungus that allows these parasitic, chlorophyll-free plants to thrive.

NY Times calls this look "Dreamily Masculine". I call it "Bruno gone fishing."

Might want to listen to this at a low volume if you're at work. But listen, you shall. For it is scatalogical, botanical, historical, and hilarious.

Found a particularly enterprising spade-leafed sundew today that seems to specialize in catching and absorbing blue damselfiles. Thing was covered with them.

Freed this one, which was still alive, and washed the goo off his wings. He lived to make the exact same mistake later that day.

Try walking into a giant mass of sticky, ravenous poison ivy that slowly dissolves your body.

(Yes, I freed him.)

Color study.

Red Milkweed. Now very rare in the Pine Barrens. I know of only two plants.

Rose Pogonias

Swamp Candle