http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler stories of landscapes, conservation, and people in and beyond the Rivanna Watershed Tue, 03 Feb 2009 16:11:58 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.5 en hourly 1 © lmiddleton@embarqmail.com () lmiddleton@embarqmail.com() stories of landscapes, conservation, and people in and beyond the Rivanna Watershed lmiddleton@embarqmail.com No no http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/wp-content/plugins/podpress/images/powered_by_podpress.jpg http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler 144 144 http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/12/18/116-the-emerald-ash-borer/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/12/18/116-the-emerald-ash-borer/#comments Thu, 18 Dec 2008 19:26:49 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/12/18/116-the-emerald-ash-borer/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/12/18/116-the-emerald-ash-borer/feed/ 0 5:34 December 18, 2008 Learning to identify trees is the business of the amateur naturalist -- and these days, one that includes learning about and spreading the ... December 18, 2008 Learning to identify trees is the business of the amateur naturalist -- and these days, one that includes learning about and spreading the word about invasive pests that are threatening whole species, such as the Emerald Ash Borer. Last weekend I took a short walk along the scrubby and thinly buffered banks of the Rivanna near Free Bridge with some fellow Master Naturalists.nbsp; We were out to hone our tree identification skills ndash; best done, I've found, after the fall of leaves when one is forced to use the most reliable tools of branching, bark, and leaf scar shape to confirm the ID. Land disturbance and compaction at this site along the river has been pretty much uninterrupted with a succession of fords and bridges dating back to the 1700s ndash; making the area vulnerable to a host of invasive species, such as Siberian elm, callery pear, and Oriental bittersweet.nbsp; But we also found plenty of natives: box elders, sycamores, and green and white ash.nbsp; I've learned over the short time I've practiced my naturalist skills that it is best to focus on one or two species in any given walk, lest I become overwhelmed and loose everything in the resulting confusion.nbsp; On this day, I'd chosen the ash tree, genus Fraxinus, a tree whose wood is strong and straight-grained for use in hardwood flooring, but tough and elastic when used in baseball bats, canoe paddles, and oars.nbsp; Within several hundred yards I met both the green ash, common here in the southeast, and the white ash, at the lower end of its hardiness zone.nbsp; Fraxinus belongs to that small category of trees and shrubs whose branching is opposite, and the mature bark presents interlacing ridges that form a diamond shaped pattern -- both attributes helpful in the identification of a tree commonly planted for shade.nbsp; And there, in the bottom-land along the river, we weren't surprised to see it had taken root, because it thrives in moist soil while tolerating drought well. As I paused to look closely at the pointy terminal bud of the green ash and compare it with the more oblique bud of the white, someone mentioned the Emerald ash borer, a bug that, as it name implies, is up to no good with a tree that fills out the hardwood canopy of our oak-hickory forests here in the south. Later, perusing the various web-sites devoted to trees and forest health, I learned enough to alarm me ndash; that the Emerald ash borer, a small, strikingly green insect arrived from Asian and made itself first known in Michigan in 2002.nbsp; After claiming the lives of at least 30 million trees in Michigan alone, it has moved east, into Maryland and now Northern Virginia, where it was found in 2003 ndash; eradicated ndash; and then rediscovered in the summer of 2008 in Fairfax. The emerald ash borer works fast, excavating serpentine tunnels through the circulatory system of the tree just below the bark.nbsp; The effects are hard to detect in trees until the damage is done ndash; upper branches die first, and as the canopy declines, the tree sprouts wildly at its base in the effort to make new leaves.nbsp;nbsp; The beetle's range is about a half a mile, so destruction of ash trees in a radius around the infested site is one control method ndash; as are quarantines of wood products and plant stock. In July, the Virginia Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services established a quarantine area that consists of Fairfax, Arlington, Prince William, Fauquier and Loudoun counties and the cities of Alexandria, Fairfax, Manassas and Manassas Park. Public awareness campaigns have sprouted up, too.nbsp; Slogans such as, "Spread the word, not the pest" may help ndash; and you can find more information at websites such as dontmovefirewood.org and stopthebeetle.info. It is not an exaggeration to say that the loss of these trees may change our Eastern forests as radically as the chestnut blight altered them in the early 1900s. At a time w... Albemarle,County,,Charlottesville,,Ecology,,Education,,Natural,History,,Other,waters lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/25/104-summer-memories/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/25/104-summer-memories/#comments Thu, 25 Sep 2008 18:48:41 +0000 admin http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/25/104-summer-memories/ http://www.cvillepublicmedia.org/rambler/2008/09/25/104-summer-memories/feed/ 0 00:01:01 nbsp;September 25, 2008 Our home places are treasures that are beyond value.nbsp; A visit to the Rambler's summertime home of youth reinforces the bittersweet richness of ... nbsp;September 25, 2008 Our home places are treasures that are beyond value.nbsp; A visit to the Rambler's summertime home of youth reinforces the bittersweet richness of these special landscapes. This show originally aired in September 25, 2008 on ldquo;The Rivanna Rambler,rdquo; a weekly public affairs show airing every Thursday at 11:55 a.m. on WTJU 91.1 FM or wtju.net I recently spent a few days on Cape Cod, that sandy fist off the coast of Massachusetts -- prime vacation destination and historic homeport to whalers and fishermen and native Americans even earlier.nbsp; On the morning of my departure, I took one last dip in the buoyant salt water of Nantucket Sound and emerged wet and dripping in the early autumn cool, glad for my native New England blood. Where I stood, the beach is short and tucked in between stone jetties that flank two harbors ndash; Wychmere and Saquetucket.nbsp; The beach extends back several hundred yards, rising up a slight bluff to the house, just barely beyond the reach of the hurricane storm surge.nbsp; The beach grass is studded with sprawling clumps rosa rugosa, the beach rose, whose fleshy fruits produce the rose hips for jelly and medicines. I used to think it was native, but now know it is actually an introduced species ndash; and on this beach, now being overtaken by another non-native, the oriental bittersweet, whose bowers obscure the fold of the bluff itself. Just across the channel beyond the Wychmere Harbor jetty is the beach where I learned the ways of water.nbsp; Every summer, our family rented a house for several weeks down the road from the bluff.nbsp; Those summer days consisted of walking everywhere:nbsp; to the one-room library open only on Tuesday and Friday afternoons, but full of alluring Nancy Drew and Black Stallion classics.nbsp; Or down to the harbor with one fat orange life preserver dangled over my shoulders and a set of oars under the other, to a modest plywood dinghy named "Cheer-up" that I would row, rain or shine, through calm or gusty winds, across the harbor to the yacht club where I learned how to sail in an equally modest plywood catboat called "Dragonfly."nbsp; Sometimes, we'd walked across the street from our house to one of the two clay tennis courts owned by neighboring families, where I would try to emulate the strong and graceful strokes of the adults. And, of course, we walked to the beach.nbsp; Down the end of Bay View lane, a dark tunnel between two tall fences overhung with privet in musky bloom, the path a cool mix of sand and loam, pine needles crunching under bare feet.nbsp; And there was a light at the end of this tunnel, for there, at the top of the stairs to the beach, was the view of the water, to the barrier islands and, if the tide was right, a squat clump of land we knew to be Nantucket.nbsp; At this beach, I learned to swim and to float.nbsp; I learned the sharp bite of crabs on my toes, I learned of phosphorescence at night and by day to dive into crashing storm waves, to love the feel of coarse sand against skin reddened by sun, knowing a shower awaited back at the house.nbsp; By any account, it was a privileged childhood, whose riches have only become more apparent as I have aged. Like most landscapes, this these beaches and bluffs have changed with time.nbsp; The Harbor called Saquetucket used to be a fresh water creek, whose sinuous curves we floated, on the outgoing tide through the peaty bog pockmarked with the holes of fiddler crabs.nbsp; My nose remembers the rank marsh smell even though boats traverse its channel, now dredged straight and deep. The real estate that was once a shabby summer inn on the beach has now sprouted three gigantic condominiums, whose scale so dwarfs the shoreline that they have become a navigation aid from far at sea. For all of us, September is a time of transition ndash; the most recent summer has passed and its memories merge with all summers past.nbsp; It's not only the p... Ecology,,Natural,History,,Other,waters lmiddleton@embarqmail.com no No