
Liquidambar styraciflua



At the State Park the other day, I amazed and delighted a group of toddlers by pointing out the cliff swallow nests under the eaves of the restrooms.
The cliff swallow is among North America’s most social landbirds. They often nest in large colonies, with a single site sometimes hosting several thousand active nests. Their nests are made from sticky clay, which can endure for years, and the birds’ tier-stacking building technique helps support them. Swallows from the same colony cooperate in nest building: they gather mud together in small areas and then return to their nests carrying clumps in their bills. They preen, feed, drink, and bathe in groups, and they continue sticking together in large flocks during migration and on their wintering grounds.

This low patch of prickly pear beside the trail was looking pretty withered, but was still flowering bravely.

More new botanical vocabulary. Pappus! Achene!
Marley Peifer and I hung out at Malibu Creek State Park for the day, geeking out on plants, rocks, reptiles, bryophytes, fungi, birds, insects and water. We also talked a little eco-philosophy and discussed different definitions of biodiversity.

We spent the afternoon on our burned-out lot, and I did an assessment of the many trees we’d planted, to see what was worth salvaging. The fruit trees are sprouting from their root stock, which means the graft is dead and who knows what kind of fruit we’ll get from them. The leaves on the mulberry suckers look remarkably like fig leaves, and a little research tells me that yes, mulberries can be grafted onto fig rootstock, so that’s what I’m seeing. Invasives are taking over. The usual suspects like mustard and spurge are thick on the hill, but trees and shrubs too—there are now acacias sprouting in the cracks around the pool.
The hours spent looking closely at the changes grieved me in a way that my previous visits have not. So many days and years of labour on that land, undone.