LOCAL WALKS: Pacific Northwest Mood

The darkening time –

after months of drought

the rain arrives, awakening licorice

fern tendrils,

greening up the ragged moss blankets

that wrap around rocks

where mushrooms smile.

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Shadows thicken,

gloom pervades the forest,

opaque clouds loom

over the sea.

Threads of lace lichen soften,

gracefully fluttering

in the cool air by the bay

where I watch the last bees fret the aster’s

deep yellow discs.

The summer houses are empty.

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Heron’s plans haven’t changed though –

peer, freeze, strike, swallow,

repeat

sometimes without the swallow.

In town

I see one flying

low over the roofs of busy stores,

crying hoarsely, fearless

and purposeful.

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1. Wetland reflections.
2. Through a scrim of twigs and lichens.
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5. Lace lichen (Ramalina menziesii), Douglas fir needles, and a Madrone leaf.
6. Rain.
7. Licorice fern (Polypodium glycyrrhiza) dries up in summer and springs back to life with autumn rains. Last season’s shriveled leaves are at the base of the ferns growing on a moss-covered tree trunk.
8. More lace lichen.
9. Rain-slicked Madrone trees lean over the water.
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13. Great blue heron.
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JUST ONE: Licorice Fern

Like a forest sprite, Licorice fern appears to spring magically from the rocks. Just as often, it climbs up mossy tree trunks, higher than you can see. The jaunty ferns are boon companions on many a walk: always friendly, ever-perky, enhancing every nook and cranny they get into.

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1. Licorice fern edges a rocky outcrop at Deception Pass State Park.

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Even when summer drought dries the fern fronds into a crunchy brown fringe, their tight curls still appeal. And when the rains return, the ferns reappear as tiny green triangles of hope pushing into the moist, cool air.

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2. Dried Licorice fern fronds will decompose on a bed of moss. The plant is summer deciduous, i.e. it goes dormant in summer.

3. Less than an inch long, at this stage the budding fronds are easy to miss.

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Licorice fern (Polypodium glycyrrhiza) is a denizen of wet places in western North America, growing on mossy ground, across fallen logs and rock surfaces and even high into the trees, where it studs branches and trunks with emerald green. The Latin name breaks down as poly = many and podium = little foot, which refers to the way the rhizome looks, but usually it’s hidden under the damp, mossy substrate the plant prefers. A rhizome is a creeping, horizontal stem with multiple rootlets (the many little feet) to anchor the plant in place. The fronds spring up from the rhizome. Glycyrrhiza refers to the slightly sweet, licorice-like taste of the rhizome, used by indigenous people in the Pacific Northwest for throat problems and to ease the unpleasantness of bitter medicines. I can attest to the sweetness of the rhizome but personally, I’d rather get my licorice flavor fix by filching seeds from a fennel plant.

This attractive fern did not go unnoticed by the nursery trade; the Royal Horticultural Society in Great Britain lists a cultivar with long frond tips as available at six nurseries. On the west coast, the same form can be purchased at a Washington nursery and you can probably find the “straight” native plant at various growers.

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4. Licorice ferns climb a moss-laden Bigleaf maple tree. On the ground, Sword fern adds more green to this late November scene at Moss Lake Natural Area, located about an hour east of Seattle.
5. Abundant winter rains keep Licorice ferns looking fresh and green. This photo was made in January at a park outside of Seattle.
6. Licorice fern grows happily on a rocky hillside in a park on Fidalgo Island.
7. Another January photo shows Licorice fern growing among clumps of Reindeer moss (Cladina sp.). The tiny round orange objects are reproductive parts of the dark-colored dog lichen (Peltigera membranacea).

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10. Licorice fern grows on the ground in the right conditions. Here, reindeer lichen helps retain moisture.

11. Licorice fern grows like a green beard from the rocks. Our forests in summer are so dense that they can be fairly dark during the day. (I admit I emphasized the darkness in this photograph.)

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When I moved to the Pacific Northwest in 2012 and began learning about the local flora, Licorice fern was one of many new plants. It reminded me of a fern I remembered from the southeast called Resurrection fern (Polypodium polypodioides). Resurrection fern is another small, bright green fern that grows like feathers on tree trunks. Its fronds can dry up and look dead but they will spring back to life after a good rain. As I understand it Licorice fern doesn’t “resurrect” intermittently. Rather it puts out new fronds annually when the rains return after the summer drought.

As interesting as the objective qualities of Licorice fern are, it’s the subjective beauty of this fern that keeps me coming back. I’ve seen subtle variations in form that delight me: sometimes the tip on a frond is very elongated, giving it a stylish, graceful aspect (this is the form that was bred to be sold as a cultivar). Fronds sometimes cross each other and interweave as they grow, making beautiful patterns. Another feature I like is the way the sporangium (the round dots on the underside that contain spores) march up and down the fronds, giving them a well-organized look.

12. A Licorice fern frond with an elegantly elongated tip.

13. Cris-crossed leaflets showing single rows of sporangia and finely toothed margins, both characteristic of the species.

14. There’s something inherently satisfying about the orderliness of ferns.

15. Masses of Licorice fern on Fidalgo Island’s highest point, Mount Erie. Clouds gather around Mount Erie even when the rest of the island is sunny, making it a good environment for ferns.
16. The order Polypodiales appeared about 100 million years ago. Genetic analysis shows that the Polypodiales order is evolutionarily more advanced than other ferns.
17. Bringing a frond inside for a closer look.

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A word about photographing ferns

Photography offers a double pleasure: absorption in the moment as we concentrate on framing a piece of the world that for one reason or another excites us, and the pleasure of finding ways to perfect that framed image so that it expresses our feelings when we get back home. The more that camera and processing skills become second nature, the less we need to think about mechanics, leaving us free to enter into the moment and respond with feeling. Being absorbed in the moment erases the endless commentary and worries that interject themselves into our days.

I don’t pretend to describe the experience of making photographs for others, but that’s how it is for me, on a good day. I delight in the beauty of this little fern as I encounter it outdoors and later I admire the attractive patterns all over again as I process the photographs on the computer. This humble little plant gives me great pleasure. Why should you care about it? No reason at all, but for me, the way it grows in the most unlikely places, the brilliant green of new plants at a time of year when others are looking old, and the happy spring of the fronds lifting towards the light are admirable qualities. Licorice fern makes a good photographic subject. What’s not to like?

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18. In Spring a cliff bursts with color from Licorice ferns, mosses and the small, lavender, green and pink-leaved succulents called Broad-leaved stonecrop (lower left).

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