Apr 122014
 

Since I began this project over 100 days ago, I have photographed one subject far more than any other:  a black metal mailbox with one side covered with lichens, located about halfway down Piney Woods Church Road.  I am quite fond of lichens, and have even gone on several field excursions with a renowned lichenologist, Sean Q. Beeching.  I have seen many lichens covering tree branches, growing on rock, and even living deep within some rocks.  But I have never seen lichens covering a metal object before.  It was enough of an oddity that it captured my attention early on in the year.  Knowing it would make a worthy image, I would often stop to photograph it just in case none of my other images for the day worked out.  Each time I would take maybe three or four photographs of the same mailbox, from different camera positions and orientations.  Yet I always found something else to celebrate that day, and the lichens were always left behind.  Today, it seems fitting to pause and appreciate them.  I admire their tenacity for managing to get a toehold on this mailbox, and enduring in all sorts of weather.  And I thank the mailbox owner for letting them be, rather than scraping them off and painting over the metal, or replacing the mailbox with a shiny new one.  These lichens greet me everyday as I pass them, and I am grateful for their presence on my journey.

I'm Lichen It Here

Apr 112014
 

I was scratching my head trying to figure out what to title this pair of images from today’s saunter down Piney Woods Church Road.  Then I realized that both of these are animals whose names betin with the letter s.  Not terribly creative, but sufficient for late in the day on a Friday.

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Apr 102014
 

I had a marvelous time exploring Piney Woods Church Road this morning.  Strange to say, I walked the its length hundreds of times with our dogs before I began this project, and I was bored with it and really wanted to be anyplace but there.  Yet since beginning this project 100 days ago, every day I have found joy and delight exploring this 4/10-mile gravel road.  Today I left my wristwatch at home, and spent an hour and a half exploring the early morning light.  Here are a few more photographs from my day’s adventures.

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Apr 102014
 

I lie prone on the damp ground, gazing through a camera lens at drops of dew clinging to blades of grass in the sunlight.  The ground sparkles with minute mirrors, inviting me to pause and reflect.  It is Day 100, and I am part-way along Piney Woods Church Road, on my journey home.

Mirrors of the Morning

Apr 082014
 

Here are two more photographs from today’s late-day ramble down Piney Woods Church Road, in the time of day photographers call the “golden hour” before sunset.  The first is of leaves of Chinese wisteria; the second is a nondescript shrub aglow with light.

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Apr 072014
 

As I like to tell everyone, I am very frond of ferns.  Venturing out after a deluge (complete with flash flood watches and warnings), I was delighted to see all the resurrection ferns green and vibrant along Piney Woods Church Road.  I am amazed by how these same ferns appear brown, shriveled, and dead most of the time, yet turn a brilliant green overnight after a considerable spate of rainfall.

Ferns' Return

Apr 062014
 

Wisteria Myths

There is no question that the Southeastern United States has been plagued by invasive wisteria.  A walk down a country road in Georgia this time of year will likely lead to encounters with curtains of blue-violet and white blossoms, suspended from vines in the treetops overhead.  But is the invader Japanse wisteria (Wisteria floribunda) or Chinese wisteria (Wisteria sinense)?  At the root of this question lies an explanation for why invasive plants succeed in taking over large areas in the wild, choking out other vegetation and reducing biodiversity to nearly nil.  And the frightening answer is this:  neither, and both.

Scientists roaming the Southeast recently made twenty-five collections of invasive wisteria for genetic analysis.  In their report, available here, twenty-four out of twenty-five of their collections turned out to be hybrids, blends of both Japanese and Chinese species.  As hybrids, the plants are able to be more successful than either species alone would be, because they have the traits of both parent species.  With greater genetic variability, they can tolerate a wider range of ecological conditions, such as degree of shading, soil type, etc.  Hybrids also tend to be more hardy, and more resistant to insect pests and diseases.  These wisteria hybrids are, effectively, “super plants” — more able to spread and more difficult to erradicate.

What, then, to make of a second myth about wisteria, concerning how to tell the Japanese and Chinese varieties apart?  According to several online sources, including an article on controlling wisteria with herbicides located here, the two wisterias actually twine in different directions.  The Chinese wisteria supposedly twines counterclockwise up a tree trunk, while the Japanese wisteria wends its way up a trunk clockwise.  Furthermore, several sources add, the reason for the difference is that vines in the Northern Hemisphere all bend counterclockwise (the same direction water supposedly empties out of a bathtub), while vines in the Southern Hemisphere bend in the opposite direction.  The Japanese species behaves the way it does, according to this explanation, because it evolved in the Southern Hemisphere, before plate tectonic forces brought Japan to its present position in the Northern Hemisphere.

Another scientific study recently debunked this myth, by showing that counterclockwise vine growth is much more common than was previously thought.  In a multi-year survey of vines all around the world (and on both sides of the Equator), abstracted here, ninety-two percent of the vines were found to twine counter-clockwise, and only eight percent grew in the opposite direction.  What is more, vines in the Southern Hemisphere were no more likely to twine clockwise than vines in the Northern Hemisphere.  Alas, too, the geological explanation behind the twining behavior of Japanese Wisteria, while fascinating, is wrong.  Most flowering plants evolved after the dinosaurs went extinct 65 million years ago.  By that time, Japan was north of the Equator, as can be seen here.

Questions on vine twining certainly remain, though.  Why do most vines twine counterclockwise?  Geographical location has been ruled out.  What is left?  One possibility is that plant vine behavior has something to do with the internal structure of plant cells — specifically, with how microtubules, hollow cylinders in each plant cell, are oriented.  But this hypothesis has not yet been tested.  It is amazing, really, that something so commonplace as the question of why vines twine about a tree in the directions that they do has remained so mysterious for so long.

This article was originally published on April 14, 2010.  A new photograph from Piney Woods Church Road accompanies the text.