12 June

 The world offers us marvels.  Among them is the effect of light in a summer forest.

On the morning of June 11th, Hamilton Forest presented a show of illuminations, aided by the cat-tail mosses that occupy its cedar trees.  

Trailing blackberries are ripening.  They, too, glowed in the morning light.

There were still abundant thimble berries in bloom, with the fruit forming.

Thimble berries are probably the least tasty of the fruits that grow in the Hamilton Forest.  As I understand, they're nutritious, but I know from attempts at eating them that they're very dry and very seedy.  The blossoms, however, are beautiful, and the leaves wonderfully soft.  

The salal are in bloom.

Salal will yield very nutritious berries--a fine source of vitamin C.  Some people will tell you that they're poisonous, but nope--they're really good, depending on where they're harvested.  People of the First Nations traditionally picked and dried them as a sort of fruit leather, although now they are more often used in jams and conserves.  

The path to the marsh beckoned.

Along the shore, the hardhack is coming into bloom.  

The spring frog chorus has been silent for weeks, replaced by an occasional (and most unwelcome) bullfrog and the always welcome chiming of red-winged blackbirds. 

The dock in the marsh (a bit wobbly, making photos challenging) leads to a bench.  This is in fact a view back to the forest from the bench.

It's a fine place to sit.  At present it's a great place to drink coffee and to watch dragonflies.  Sometimes I think sadly of the less fortunate in this world who must watch television in the morning instead of birds, and insects, and light.  

What I'm pretty sure is red pondweed has begun to appear in the waters of the marsh.

My copy of Plants of Coastal British Columbia tells me that species of aquatic plants with rounded leaves like these are relatively uncommon in local waters.  The pondweed is one of the more common.  The leaves aren't as big as they can become.  

Mount Arrowsmith watches over the marsh, its snowpack fading and backed by smoke from a forest fire.

Until next week, I head back along the path, grateful for the diversity and beauty of this place.