By mid-August, our paver entryway is a bounty of green, often obscuring the dark red pavers.
But I enjoy seeing the “weeds” return each year. It’s not that hard to tame them, but I enjoy seeing the varieties and the force of life bringing green into seemingly inhospitable conditions.
Many people would criticize our garden maintenance, or at best, express sympathy for this condition. One website says,
There’s nothing more frustrating than having weeds growing between the joints of pavers. Before you know it, the weeds can take over and be almost impossible to remove.
The site describes a method for removing those weeds. It then offers a service ($2 / square foot) to prevent their return:
After you’ve invested all this time an energy in removing the weeds from your pavers, the last thing you want the weeds to do is return. The problem: unless you do anything about it, they will.
I’m willing to accept that will of the plants.
Moss may be the most compatible plant, one that sometimes just lays green above the sand between the pavers. Then there’s clover, which begins gently, then explodes into a mini-forest. For the last week we’ve been blessed with bright blue petunias.
A liberal use of vinegar followed by a pressure washing could combat all this growth, and I appreciate that many people would prefer the like-new look after a thorough cleaning.
Nevertheless, our like-old look seems to me more beautiful and far more interesting.
Saponaria officinalis, known commonly as soapwort, bouncing bet, crow soap, wild sweet William, and lady by the garden gate, is blooming everywhere now in Wellfleet.
Although it’s a perennial, I don’t notice it most of the time amidst multiflora rose, blackberry Virginia creeper, bayberry, and other plants. Then it bursts on the scene in August, stealing the scene from all the rest.
Soapwort shines in various shades of pink and purple, brightening the path, and adding yet one more reason to walk in the woods and avoid driving on highway 6.
It can be a very useful plant, too. As the name implies, liquid from the roots and leaves can make a gentle soap. It’s especially handy for delicate woolens or dry skin, and was possibly used to clean the Shroud of Turin.
It’s also used as an emulsifier in the preparation of tahini & halvah, and for brewing beer with a good head.
Many of us grew up playing the Animal, Vegetable, Mineral? game. You had to guess an object, knowing only which of those three categories it fell into. Animal and vegetable (plant) were supposed to cover all living things.
Beard lichen (Usnea), a genus of fruiticose lichen
But what if you came across some living thing that was neither animal nor vegetable? What if the thing you found looked like a plant, but wasn’t; looked like a single organism, but wasn’t; could appear as a mineral of some sort, but was full of life?
Powdered ruffle lichen (Parmotrema hypoleucinum); a foliose type
You could be looking at one of the most interesting phenomena on Cape Cod, but one that is often overlooked, even by those otherwise expert about birds, trees, wildflowers, turtles, mammals, mollusks, insects, and other fascinating flora and fauna.
That strange thing you observe might be a lichen, a composite organism made up of algae or cyanobacteria living among multiple fungi species. The fungi are in a kingdom separate from either plants or animals. That kingdom includes yeasts, molds, and mushrooms. Like animals, they cannot photosynthesize, but acquire food directly or indirectly from plants.
Within a lichen, the fungi provide structure and attachment to a tree, rock, or split rail fence. The algae contain the green pigment, chlorophyll, which gives the green color to the lichen and captures energy from the sun to support. photosynthesis.
One common type you may find is foliose, or leaf-like lichen. Another is fruiticose, reminiscent of tiny fruit trees. There are also crustose, which attach to rocks so tightly that they can’t be removed without destroying them or the rock. They seem like the Mineral in the old guessing game. Some common crustose lichen are bright orange.
Reindeer lichen (Cladonia portentosa); fruiticose
Lichens are gray when the algae components are dead or dormant, but they may turn bright green after a rain. The fungus (which surrounds the algae) soaks up water, causing its to become more transparent, and revealing the green pigment of the algae.
See what you can find the next time you venture onto a WCT trail.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” So said Margaret Wolfe Hungerford in Molly Bawn (1878). Her sentiment applies quite well to one of my favorite walks, out of the many on Cape Cod.
This one is easy to reach from either end, borderline accessible, and close to my home. But few people would single it out as an outstanding nature walk.
Narrow section along Snake Creek Rd
Snake Creek Road
The walk is along Snake Creek Road, aka Way 672, in Wellfleet. The road was once passable by large vehicles, but due to downed trees, not any more. It’s best suited to walkers, brave runners, and the occasional horse rider.
The road is maintained simply by its use. There are no trail markers, maps, or guide booklets. Some parts are wide and clear; others remind the visitor to wear protection against twisted branches and roots, prickly thorns, and poison ivy. Conditions change with the weather and as tree branches fall across the path.
Canoe launch, showing Phragmites australis
Unlike many trails I’ve enjoyed, Snake Creek Road is not an official National Seashore trail. Nor is it a trail of the Wellfleet Conservation Trust, Massachusetts Audubon, or some other such organization. There’s a road sign, but nothing to indicate that you can, with a little difficulty, walk the 3/4 miles, but not drive it.
There are about ten houses on a bluff above the road. You might be able to hear people on a deck talking, but usually they aren’t close enough for you to hear what they’re saying. Similarly, you’ll be far enough away that they probably won’t see or hear you.
Flora
Snake Creek Road is a great place to explore the question:
Which invasive plant would win if we put them all together in one place?
Snake Creek Road sign surrounded by Rosa multiflora
Here you’ll find bramble, poison ivy, Virginia creeper, autumn olive, both bush and vine honeysuckle, phragmites, broadleaf dock, buckthorn, garlic mustard, oriental bittersweet, black locust, Japanese knotweed, bamboo, and much more. There are also magnificent spreads of multiflora rose blooming in various colors.
In one section there’s a large stand of lily of the valley, both alongside the trail and on the walkway itself. Like many of its partners in the ecosystem, it’s invasive, toxic, medicinal, good for wildlife, and beautiful.
We’re taught to resist invasives and to stamp them out at all costs. Given the choice, I’d prefer a healthy native plant ecosystem. But I can’t help but be in awe of the signs of life bursting through, without the need of harmful fertilizer, herbicides, or constant tending.
Lily of the valley (Convallaria majalis)
Brambles (Rubus)
Besides, there are also many native plants along Snake Creek, including moss, bayberry, bearberry, beach plum, mayapple, reed grass, black cherry, bear oak, fir, pitch pine, and white pine, to name just a few. There are introduced plants, such as Norway spruce as well.
Best of all, it’s easy to find many prime examples of lichen, including green shield, fishnet, and reindeer lichen. They steadfastly refuse to be placed in a simple category like “flora” or “fauna,” preferring “mycota.” They’re accompanied by wood ears and the underground fungi with their occasional spore-bearing fruiting bodies.
Black oak (Quercus velutina)
40-foot Eastern red cedar (Juniperus virginiana)
The Iris sibirica? pool with irises just beginning to bloom on the little islands
Fauna
Snake Creek is home to all sorts of animals as well––birds, reptiles, mammals, and countless invertebrates. The creek (aka Herring River), despite its degradation from being dammed, is home to various fish, such a the eponymous herring, frogs, turtles, and even river otters.
Northern black racer (Coluber c. constrictor). Image from Connecticut Department of Energy & Environmental Protection
On the land side there are coyotes, rabbits, fox, snakes, squirrels, chipmunks, mice, and voles. In addition to many songbirds, I’ve seen swans and great blue herons close up, ospreys and hawks overhead. And many crows. Woodpeckers enjoy the many damaged trees.
When I walk leisurely, I feel that I’m inside a marvelous habitat space like those in some modern zoos. But this is one that’s self-maintaining and ever-changing.
A couple of days ago, as the weather had warmed a little, I almost stepped on a 4-5 foot black racer sunning itself on the trail.
I’ve been especially intrigued to follow the evolution of two dens along the trail. I believe they’re made by coyotes, which I’ve heard at night, but they could be for foxes. Recently they’ve deteriorated without repair, suggesting that the canine families have moved on.
This beholder
I can’t say that Snake Creek is the best 3/4 mile walk anywhere. It’s rather flat and straight, and there are too many signs of degradation from human activity. It will also be changing in a major way soon, with the restoration of the Herring River tidal flow. I expect it to be inundated at high tide after that. It will be a salt marsh habitat and more of a mud flat or at low tide.
Great blue heron? Or sign of human presence?
Moreover, the possibility of getting lost is one of my top criteria for a good walk, and that’s very hard to do on a straight line path with a bluff on one side and a river on the other.
But a walk from one end to the other and back has never failed to yield surprises and contentment that can be found in few other ways.
A friend commented that he had done a lot of hiking and walking on nature trails, but that he’d only recently become aware of the many decisions and the work it took to build and maintain a trail. He would be interested to see what we do with Wellfleet Conservation Trust trails.
We plan these trails to entail minimal destruction to the environment. They should be obvious so that walkers can stay on them without creating social trails through the woods. But we like them to be as unobtrusive as possible. This requires a balance of engineered and natural features.
Visitors from Nepal helping to repair a roped off area at Herring River Overlook
Among other things, we cut overhanging branches that pose a hazard to walkers, but leave any vegetation higher than a Celtics player, unless it’s in danger of falling. We make the trail wide enough for anyone to walk easily, but usually require a single file. We place trail blaze arrows at confusing junctions, but try not to use more than absolutely necessary.
In some places we’ve added stakes and ropes to discourage off trail walking. As enticing as that bushwhacking may be for some, it can be very destructive for the land. For example, at the Herring River Overlook trail, walking down the dune towards the river kills fragile lichen, moss, bearberry, mayapple, violets, sea oats, and other vegetation. That in turn can lead to serious dune erosion.
National Park Service plea, too often ignored
The ropes are easily bypassed, but we don’t want to mar the sites with massive barriers. We have to trust that responsible visitors will recognize the message and stay on the trail.
In many parks today we see the sign that “vegetation grows by the inch but dies by the foot.” That’s especially true on Cape Cod. Tenacious plants can survive despite salty winds off the sea, sandy, nutrient poor soil, and hungry wildlife, but only if we’re on their side.
The first North Atlantic right whale mother and calf pair has arrived in Cape Cod Bay. The Right Whale Ecology Program team from the Center for Coastal Studies (CCS) sighted the pair on March 18––Porcia, a 21-year-old right whale, and her newborn calf. They were first seen in late December off the coast of Georgia.
Yesterday, Susan and I were fortunate go on a Whale Walk sponsored by the Center. It turned out to not much of a walk because whales came close to shore next to the pavilion where we were supposed to start. They were relatively easy to see as they fed at the surface, so we had a sort of stationary walk.
We learned a useful tip from Jesse Mechling who led the group: If you see a large black rock moving across the water, it’s probably a right whale. There’s no evidence for black rocks off Cape Cod moving in that way.
Jesse showing baleen that right whales use to capture their principal food source, copepods
The North Atlantic right whales are critically endangered. There are fewer than 340 individuals left and only 80 breeding females. The principal factors in their decline are shipping and entanglement from fishing gear. They’re called “urban whales” because they’re trying to survive off the shore of dense human populations with some of the most active shipping and fishing in the world.
They’re also affected by global warming, which results in warming of the oceans, shifts in the populations of copepods, alterations of the feeding patterns of the whales, coming into the way of new harms, etc. These issues are discussed at our annual Wellfleet harbor conference.
Cape Cod Bay from the Herring Cove pavilion in Provincetown
I have very mixed feelings right now. On the one hand I feel incredibly fortunate to benefit from organizations such as the CCS and their public engagement programs. I love being able to go a short distance to see relatively unpolluted beaches and magnificent creatures such as the right whales, directly from shore.
But on the other hand, I feel shame knowing that my generation is responsible for the destruction of these whales and other wildlife, and the habitats that they need to survive.
Our rain chain goes through beautiful transformations as the water freezes or thaws, with differences for flash freezing versus slow, and with varying amounts of snow on the ice.
As the ice melts it makes tinkling sounds like a tiny wind chime.
I just watched a couple of nuthatches swimming in the barrel at the bottom. They took to the (freezing) water like tiny ducks.
A friend in Wellfleet, Ernie Bauer, makes things of function and beauty, especially in metal. A few years ago he made a sculpture inspired by the Navajo word, Hózhó. It stands near the post office and WHAT, the Wellfleet Harbor Actors Theater.
You can see it and its shadow in the photo above.
Hózhó is often translated as ‘balance and beauty’; it can also be seen as harmony, finding peace amidst the jagged ups and downs of life.
Hózhó also emphasizes how ephemeral aspects of the world can be linked into a more significant whole. This shows up in Navajo weaving and other art forms.
The concept of beauty in Hózhó extends beyond what can be perceived directly by the senses. It implies orderly and harmonious relationships with other people, with the natural world, and with the world of spiritual beings and forces.
The estate of Elinor and Vincent Ostrom donated the rug shown above to the IU museum. It seems quite appropriate. Elinor Ostrom is best known for her work on how we can escape the “tragedy of the commons,” a phrase popularized by Garrett Hardin. For this work she became the first woman to win the Nobel Prize in Economics.
Ostrom’s work examined how societies have found ways to manage natural resources and avoid ecosystem collapse. Like the rugs she donated, it’s a realization of the Hózhó idea of living in harmony with others and with the natural world.
Too few people notice Ernie’s Hózhó sculpture. It treads softly. It’s in harmony with the semi-natural area where it stands.
In Wellfleet, the post office and the theater serve as a commons without people needing the sculpture to remind them. They visit with friends and enjoy community events.
But in a larger sense, I fear that humanity is playing out the dystopic scenarios of Garrett Hardin. Can we ever find ways to work together as Ostrom showed is possible?
Chip's journey 