My house caught on fire, and now it has wasps and ducks.
animals · Blog · life

My house caught on fire, and now it has wasps and ducks.

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Hello! It’s… uh. It’s been a while.

The past few months have been pretty intense. I downgraded my WordPress hosting, because I found that I wasn’t using many of the benefits of my upgraded package. This sounds simple, but, in reality, required a lot of back-and-forth between three chat bots, some emails, and a discussion forum. Either way! It’s all sorted now and, if anything breaks in the near future, it’s entirely because I’m messing with themes and colors again.

Now, as for the rest… I vended at my first in-person event this year! It was a great experience, I sold a ton of artwork and sculptures, and I’m very happy.

Then, shortly afterward, my house caught on fire some. I was sitting in the bath when I smelled something like melting plastic. I checked the bathroom window, but it definitely wasn’t coming from outside. When the smell intensified, I asked my Handsome Assistant to see if he could track it down.
He came running back with a fire extinguisher, there was smoke everywhere, cats were evacuated, fire department was called, and I sat in the driveway for a while chatting with friends on Discord because I’m pretty sure that was the one thing tethering my sanity in the midst of all of the chaos at that particular moment.

Anyhow! Everyone’s fine and the house is habitable. However, as a public service announcement: Do not leave your bathroom vent fans on when you’re not around, they are absolutely capable of subterfuge. As it turns out, our basement bathroom vent fan’s wiring blew out in a rather spectacular fashion. Like, flames. Melted insulation. A scorched gas line. If we hadn’t been home, or I hadn’t smelled it when I did, it would’ve been a catastrophe. As it is, it’s just been a very stressful series of inconveniences – including having no heat for several weeks.

Also, yellowjackets live in the walls now. This is totally unrelated to the fire. They just saw some gaps around the powerlines and decided it was free real estate, and now they live there. Sometimes they get into our bedroom. I woke up gently spooning one this morning.

If circumstances were different, these guys would’ve died off with the first frost as they usually do. Since they’re living in the walls, they’re here to stay. Or at least for way longer than my Handsome Assistant and I are comfortable with sharing a space with them. I don’t mind stinging insects, but as far as housemates go… I mean, they’re not great.

Lastly, we have ducks!
We did not initially intend to get ducks.
My Handsome Assistant likes the idea of having egg-producing pets, despite the fact that neither of us eat eggs. (It is his latent Ohio prepper sensibilities.)
These are not egg-laying ducks.

What happened is a friend of ours rescued some ducklings from Tractor Supply. It was the end of the season, the store can’t return them to the breeder, so they just… had these unsexed ducklings. Friend took them, since friend already has necessary ducky infrastructure, and the ducklings grew into three handsome Rouen drakes and one lovely hen.

(Pause for sounds of dread from people who have kept drakes and hens before.)

Duck mating is… Let’s call it “hardcore.” It’s dangerous for the hens at the best of times, and that’s even with a good ratio of drakes to hens. Which is about 1:3-4 at minimum, not 3:1. So, friend needed to find a home for these drakes before the spring breeding season rolls around. If no one took them, they’d have to make the difficult decision to cull the drakes for the safety of the hen, which they really didn’t want to have to do.

So, bleeding heart that I am, I decided we were going to keep ducks.

And honestly? It’s been great. We built them a run and a coop, set up a pool, gave them a separate water source, and feed them a variety of fresh foods alongside a healthful prepared diet. They’re three handsome Rouens, and they’re also a lot of fun. They get excited when I walk outside or talk to them through the window. They wag their tails and bob their heads. They’ll eat treats from my hand and listen very well when I tell them it’s time for bed.

Three ducks with bright green heads and gray bodies eat black soldier fly larvae from a person's hand.
Left to right, Marcus, Eddie, and Robert.

… Alright, they listen well when I walk in and say, “Alright handsome boys, it’s time to go eepy-sleepy’! Ready? Let’s go!” In high-pitched parentese like a demented Disney princess.

We’ve only had them for a little while, and I already love them. There’s Marcus, the crested one and the smallest of the three. There’s Robert, the second largest and boldest. And there’s Eddie, the largest and the unwitting target of Marcus’… affections.

Ducks, like many other animals, will mount each other in a display of dominance. So, much like a high school transfer student, Marcus has apparently decided that since he’s in a new place, it is time to try to be the Cool Important Duck. A strategy that would make more sense if he weren’t shy and less than half the size of Eddie.
Eddie’s mostly just confused by the tiny hat-wearing maniac trying to climb on his back.

So, my time a way has mostly been dealing with housefire remediation logistics, rebuilding, setting up duck infrastructure, and finding a way to get the wasps out of the walls.

How are yous all doing?

bonfire photo Beltane!
animals · life · Neodruidry · Witchcraft

Beltane!

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This past weekend, some friends, my Handsome Assistant, and I went to the woods to celebrate Beltane.

What is Beltane? It’s a celebration of the coming summer and occurs roughly halfway between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. Traditionally, in Ireland, it was when cattle were sent to their summer pastures. There’d be bonfires, rituals to protect the cattle, people, and homes, and lots of food.

We, lacking both cattle and pastures to which to send them, did stuff a little differently.

Really, there wasn’t a firm plan when we met up. We knew we would do something, but what it was was very much up in the air. One friend was firm about building an effigy. I was firm about there being drums and partying. Other than that…

There’s a saying that getting a group of Pagans to do anything is like herding cats. The larger the group, the harder the herding.

Nonetheless, with less than a full day to plan, write, and perform a ritual, we prevailed.

Friday night, a friend and I went to go look for a ritual site. This was pretty easy, or would have been were it not a) the woods, b) midnight, and c) Beltane.

There’s a fun bit of Beltane lore that goes thus: Samhain is the time of year when the veil between this world and the world of the dead is at its thinnest. Beltane, being pretty much the opposite of Samhain, is said to be the time of year when the veil between this world and the world of other beings is at its thinnest. These other beings are typically referred to as the fae, the Good People, etc. Depending on how you define nature spirits, this could include some cryptids. This is also the beginning of the season when UAP/UFO sightings tick upward.

What I’m saying is that it is either the best or worst time to go walk around a forest at night, depending entirely on what kind of night/rest of your life you’re trying to have.

We managed to end up in places that didn’t quite make sense. At one point, we were convinced that some of the features of the trail had switched places. When I tried to take a pic of the proposed ritual site to show everyone else, all I got were bizarre, blurry, lightleaked pictures that looked like someone ran a Holga through a dishwasher.

A black image with a large, hazy blue shape in the lower half.
Surprisingly, this image was less than helpful for logistical purposes.

(Interestingly, all of my pictures of other areas were totally normal. Even ones taken that same night. However, I did discover a couple of videos I don’t remember taking, complete with music.)

All told, we ended up walking about a mile and a half (2.5 km) and taking way longer than anticipated. I texted my Handsome Assistant at one point to let him know I was still alive, but I figured “I’m still alive” and “We might be lost” were too ominous, so I tried to text him “We have entered a temporal anomaly” but what I actually sent was “we have entered temporal snomaly.” Fortunately, his phone was dead, so he wasn’t subjected to my dumbassery until much later.

Saturday morning, some of us discussed exactly what to do, while others began building. They harvested deadfall, shaped it, and fastened it together with jute. Mid-afternoon, we had lunch (and subsequently collapsed into a small food coma). Later, we played beat-the-clock against a thunderstorm as we wrote the ritual’s speaking roles, assembled the effigy, and put everything else into place.

As soon as everything was ready, we began.

And it. Was. Awesome.

There was a slow procession to the ritual circle. A soft stream of incense smoke to lift the senses and purify the space as people walked in. Two friends asperged us all with sprigs of fresh, wildcrafted mugwort and sacred water.

The circle itself was marked by colorful candle torches at each cardinal direction. We said a prayer, lighting a candle with each line. There were two short, beautiful speeches about why we were assembled today, and the significance of what we were doing. As we started a melodic chant, one friend lit the effigy.

Also, the effigy was an eight-foot-tall rearing stag…

A tall stag made of woven deadfall. It appears to be springing forth from the ground.

… that rapidly turned into an enormous bonfire*.

*It was a very controlled bonfire. It was in a fire pit, and there were fire extinguishers and buckets of water at the ready. I’ve had fire safety ingrained in me literally from the blastocyst stage and most of us have lots of bonfire experience, so everything was pretty locked down.

A very large bonfire in a clearing in a forest.

The stag is a representation of the south and the element of Fire. He’s the figurehead of summer, and this one, in particular, represented the energy ramping up toward midsummer. He’s virility, high energy, and the crouch before the leap into action.

Each of us took a dried corn husk — a physical representation of a gift we wanted to offer the group — and lit it with a candle’s flame. Then, we each added our burning cornhusks, our tiny fires, to the massive fire of the burning stag.

Once the flames reached their peak, it was party time. People drummed, rattled, danced, and sang. I played my mouth harp. We had about five or six different rhythms going at the same time, and it was delightful and excellent. There was beauty and poetry and joy and chaos and fun and even a bonus group of concerned/confused citizens.

(We tried to remember songs about fire to sing, but the only one I could think of was “Fire Water Burn” by Bloodhound Gang and it didn’t exactly fit the vibe, YKWIM.)

When the fire died down, we started the return to camp. One friend doused the remains of the fire, while another attempted to harvest a tiny flame from it. They lit a candle with this flame, and a third friend carefully carried it all the way back. My Handsome Assistant and I accompanied them, watching in nothing short of astonishment as the candle managed to burn steadily the whole way. (It had sputtered and gone out mid-ritual, so the fact that it lit and stayed lit at all was nothing short of miraculous.)

Once there, we lit a new fire with the tiny flame taken from the ritual bonfire. With that, we could still sit comfortably around the sacred fire long into the night, ’til a thunderstorm came and sent us all to bed. (As much as it’s no fun camping in the rain, there was something truly delightful about going to bed tired and happy, lulled to sleep by the sound of thunder and the tapping of raindrops.)

There’s a really big sense of accomplishment that comes with making a large thing, even especially when you get to set that thing on fire and then party around it.

Some of the friends there were brand new friends. Others have known each other for years. All of us come from incredibly diverse backgrounds, belief systems, and skillsets. Each person contributed what they could — food, ideas, tools, a pair of hands — to make this ritual a rousing success and an absolute blast.

Also, I saw a coal skink (Plestiodon anthracinus, which was awesome because they’re considered endangered here), a little brown skink (Scincella lateralis), a luna moth (Actias luna), an awesome American giant millipede (Narceus americanus), and a huge and gorgeous eastern eyed click beetle (Alaus oculatus). So this was kind of a big weekend for me all around.

A small, sleek brown lizard in some twigs and leaf litter.
A large black beetle with an elongated form, sitting on a concrete stepping stone. It has a pair of large white-rimmed eye spots on its carapace, and it is spotted with smaller white spots that look almost like stars.

It’s a testament to what you can accomplish with a diverse group and a shared goal, and I still haven’t stopped smiling about it. I left with a container of the ashes from the sacred fire, a bag of apples, and what’s most likely some kind of fae curse on my cellphone. I think back on saying goodbye to everyone, and all of the hugs, and smiles, and jokes, and excitement that we managed to pull off something this cool, and it gives me the warm fuzzies. Like a tiny sacred fire that never goes out.

I found a small bear in the woods, so I took him home.
Just for fun · life

I found a small bear in the woods, so I took him home.

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So while my friend, my Handsome Assistant, and I were digging up kudzu roots, I encountered a small guy. He was very dirty and neglected — it looked like he’d been left in the mud for the entire winter. There were seeds sprouting in his fur. Burrs. Earthworms. He had a missing ear and most of the flocking rubbed off his nose.

He was, in short, the most tragic stuffed bear that I’d ever seen.

I’ll be perfectly candid with you: I have a terrible weakness for sad things happening to stuffed animals. Those commercials with the teddy bear left in the rain? Forget about it.

When I was very little — four or five or so — I got it into my head that tornadoes were a Major Problem that I needed to be ready for. I didn’t live in an area that really experienced them, but that didn’t matter. If one came along I was going to be prepared.

I was also deeply worried about what’d happen to my stuffed animals. My parents told me that, if we ever did have to evacuate, I’d have to leave them behind. They could be replaced, and there wouldn’t be time to take them with us.

However, what I heard was that I had to be extremely efficient.

From then on, for years, every time I heard about a tornado touching down absolutely anywhere in the US, I’d take all of my stuffed animals, carefully pack them into trash bags, and line the bags up next to my bedroom door. That way, I reasoned, I could grab them without having to stop. It wouldn’t waste time, and I could still make sure that everyone got out okay. That nobody would be left behind.

(And yet, somehow, my parents were shocked when I was diagnosed with anxiety as a teenager. Shocked.)

The author, wearing gloves, holds a small brown and black teddy bear. The bear is covered in mud, worms, seeds, and various other detritus.

So I stood there, holding this dripping, squashed, crusty, almost unrecognizable teddy bear in a gloved hand.

It was very gross, and I’d have to bring him (and whatever he carried with/inside of him) into my house. Still, the thought of leaving him behind tugged at my heartstrings. Also, from a more practical standpoint, leaving him there meant that he’d eventually introduce a lot of microplastics into the environment. Birds might pick at him and take his stuffing to line their nests, where the polyester strands could tangle their chicks’ claws and injure them. I couldn’t leave him behind, could I? If not for him, then for the sake of all those hypothetical baby birds.

“I can rebuild him. I have the technology,” I declared, as I stuffed him in a tote bag.

Restoring a Bear

Fortunately, I wasn’t wrong.

The first step was letting him dry out, so I could brush off as much of the crusted-over mud as possible and pick off the more egregious bits of flora and fauna that had hitched a ride.

Then, I had to unstitch around one of his paw pads so I could access his stuffing. I didn’t trust it, and I wasn’t sure what might’ve laid eggs/burrowed into it, so I needed to pull it all out. If I could clean it and reuse it, great. If not, I was going to have to safely discard it somehow.

Once he was entirely unstuffed, I could give him a thorough wash, dry, and brushing to make his fur fluffy again. It took several rounds of rinsing and a fair bit of scrubbing.

After drying, he was able to be restuffed. I had a bunch of very soft rags that I’d cut from a clean shirt. (Everlane, whose organic cotton poet shirt tore like tissue paper. Feh.) I shredded them up as finely as I could, then used my fingers, a pair of tweezers, and a chopstick to make sure that the ersatz stuffing made it to every corner of the bear.

Once he was plump and evenly stuffed again, I re-stitched his paw pad back in place with some black cotton thread. Et voilà! He was more-or-less back to what I assume was his old self again.

Except for one thing…

A Missing Ear

His right ear. It had been missing entirely from the beginning. I didn’t see it on the ground when I picked him up. From the smoothness of that side of his head, it looked like it had torn cleanly off.

The trouble is, I didn’t have any material that could make a convincing replacement. I didn’t even have any funky material that could work in a “medical prosthetics but make it fashion” way. I didn’t want to leave him with nothing, though.

I rustled up a pattern for a small, crocheted flower and a leaf. Some Malabrigo superwash merino yarn and a Czech glass bead later, and I had a rather fetching flower fascinator that’d do.

I dabbed on a coat of black paint over the rubbed-off part of his nose, and he’s good to go. He’s clean, bug-free, and even has his missing ear (somewhat) fixed. While my poet shirt didn’t do very well as an actual shirt, it did make for some excellent stuffing — firm and voluminous, but soft enough not to be lumpy.

I wish I could say that this is the first time I’ve found a small guy left in the woods and randomly decided to bring it home for restoration, but of course it isn’t. I’m at the point where this has happened often enough that I now deliberately watch for dropped toys and other objects left behind.

What can I say? I’m an absolute sucker for a sad little dummy.

A riverside hike (with *giant* mushrooms!)
Blog · life · Uncategorized

A riverside hike (with *giant* mushrooms!)

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This past weekend, my Handsome Assistant and I packed a small picnic and went for a bit of a walk. This particular area is beside the northwest branch of the Anacostia River, near an abandoned mica mine. There are some really cool mineral specimens here — the usual bull quartz, but also tons of mica-bearing rocks and golden beryl.

That’s not all it has, though.

The trail is mostly shaded by trees, so it stays fairly cool even when the weather’s warm. Lesser celandine (lush, but invasive) covers the ground between the trees, creating a dense carpet that reflects the sunlight and further cools the ground. It’s poisonous to eat, though the tubers are said to be edible, and has a long history of use as a topical medicine for hemorrhoids and scrofula.

A brown haired, caucasian man in a dark blue and white tanktop reclines on a bed of lesser celandine. His eyes are closed and his expression is peaceful.
“That’s a really bad idea, you know.”
“I know, but it looks so soft.”
“There’s probably poison ivy in it.”
“Worth it.”
“You’re going to get eaten by snakes. Or ticks. Probably both.”
“It’s so soft, though!”
A close up of a small pink springbeauty flower.
Springbeauty (Claytonia virginica)

Fortunately, there was more to see than just lesser celandine. There were tiny pink blossoms of springbeauty, dense pillows of moss, fern fiddleheads, and some of the lushest skunk cabbage I’ve ever seen. We also spotted some mayapples, a few of which were even mature enough to flower. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to go back and see if there’s any fruit later this summer, but it was lovely to see regardless! (I snapped a few pics of the ones we saw, which you can find in my post on mayapple folklore and magical properties.)

Large skunk cabbage plants growing up out of a dense mat of lesser celandine.
Seriously, just look at that skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus).

We passed next to the water, eyes peeled for sparkly mica-bearing stones, when I heard a soft “bloop.” I turned my head just in time to see a startled common watersnake (Nerodia sipedon) slipping away across to the opposite bank, gracefully undulating and occasionally poking its head up like a snorkel to take a breath. I apologized for spooking it as I fumbled for my phone but wasn’t able to snap a picture before it had swum away and camouflaged itself in the mud and fallen leaves.

They’re one of the species of snakes that are often vilified for no reason. They’re perfectly harmless but can bear a passing resemblance to a venomous copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix). Admittedly, I made the same mistake myself at first glance — not that I would’ve behaved any differently, as both the snake and I seemed pretty chill about the whole situation. Like black racers and ratsnakes, they’re guys you actually want to have around if you don’t want to have to deal with pest animals. Also, they’re one of the few reptile species that gives birth to live young, and that’s really neat!

(Also, copperheads are pretty chill, too. They might be venomous, but they’re not aggressive. Their first defensive instinct is to freeze up and rely on their natural camouflage. Bites typically occur when that either fails, or people don’t see them, step too close, and the snake gets desperate.)

A pair of young fern fronds, still curled into a "fiddlehead" shape.
Young ferns.

A little further up the trail, we were navigating over a large fallen tree. Another tree lay across it, forming a kind of steep natural bridge. As I investigated it to see if it’d be safe to cross, I heard a silky rasping sound. There, nestled in the root ball of the fallen tree, I saw the shiny black coil and pointed tail of a black racer (Coluber constrictor priapus) vanishing deeper into the tangled roots.

My favorite part, however, was running into a colony of dryad’s saddle (Cerioporus squamosus) growing from a dead tree. These are edible, fairly easy to identify, and don’t really have poisonous lookalikes. They also smell exactly like watermelon rinds, which is honestly very weird. Kind of a green, watery, fruity smell, of decidedly not the type you’d expect from a scaly tan mushroom growing out of a dead tree. I wasn’t 100% positive that that’s what I was looking at, at first. Fortunately, a combination of a quick-and-dirty ID app and friends with much more foraging experience were able to reassure me.

Also?

Dryad’s saddles get enormous.

A fallen tree sporting several large dryad's saddle mushrooms.
A person's hand resting on top of a dryad's saddle mushroom. The mushroom displays the characteristic scaly brown and beige pattern and is very broad -- easily two hands long.

Like, far larger than I felt was reasonable for a mushroom. Much bigger than the reishi and armillaria that grow in my front yard, at any rate.

This area has another cool feature, labeled on the map as “prehistoric rock shelter.” I haven’t found any other information about it, but it’s a nice, cool, shaded spot to sit and rest for a bit. The area underneath is at a bit of a slope, but it’s still a comfortable place to take a break.

The author and their Handsome Assistant sitting together under the rock shelter.
My Handsome Assistant, pretending to hold up the rock shelter. The "shelter" itself is a very large, flat boulder jutting up at an angle, creating a kind of natural awning over a bare patch of soil.

I also found a tree that was shaped kind of like a sad skull, and a very neat feather — most likely from a hawk.

The roots of a large tree. They seem to form a pair of eye holes on either side of a triangular nose hole.
A brown and white barred feather laying on some lesser celandine.

All told, it was an eventful walk and a lovely picnic. Everything was vibrant and green, and we saw (and heard!) a lot of cool wildlife.

Here’s hoping you’re also finding cool things wherever your adventures take you.

Mayapple Folklore and Magical Properties
Plants and Herbs

Mayapple Folklore and Magical Properties

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I love mayapples. They look like a prank. Like someone picked a bunch of leaves off of something bigger and stuck them in the ground so they could trick people into thinking that that’s how a mayapple grows. They’re patently ridiculous and fantastic.

I remember the first time I encountered them. Though I don’t remember when, or where, I do remember seeing a bunch of sprouts that looked like folded beach umbrellas for fairies. I wasn’t sure if they were plants or mushrooms at first — before the leaves fully open, they almost look more like fungi than anything planty.

The other day, my handsome assistant and I were on a walk and ran into a whole patch of them. Even better, some of them had flowers, which also look like some kind of prank. The only thing better is when they fruit, which I, personally, find hilarious. Just one leaf with a big old fruit hanging off of it. It looks like a video game monster. Like you’re supposed to get close, then find out the fruit is actually full of teeth and now you’re out of extra lives.

Anyway. Mayapples are interesting for more than their bizarre looks. They can also be a very useful plant.

Mayapple Magical Uses and Folklore

Mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) is sometimes called “American mandrake,” and the name is apt. Like mandrake (Mandragora species), it’s poisonous. It also has a pretty large root that often branches similarly to that of a mandrake.

The name Podophyllum peltatum comes from the Greek words podo, meaning “foot,” and phyllum, meaning “leaf,” as well as peltatum, meaning “shield.” It’s a pretty apt name when you look at their slender stems shielded by broad leaves.

A top-down view of a mayapple leaf, surrounded by lesser celandine.

While the entirety of the mayapple is poisonous, the fruit (with the seeds removed) can be eaten only when it is completely ripe1.

Most commonly, mayapple is used as a substitute for mandrake. While the plants are unrelated, their qualities are similar enough to make such a substitution work.

That means that mayapple is an excellent ingredient in protective or banishing formulas. Some people use it as an ingredient in formulas for renewal, rebirth, or new beginnings, largely because of the fact that the plant appears in spring, produces fruit, and go dormant shortly after the fruit ripens in mid-summer.

A close-up view of a mayapple flower. It appears at the fork between the two leaves of a mature mayapple and has five white petals with a yellow center.

Interestingly, mayapples have a unique relationship with turtles. While the foliage is bitter and deadly enough for herbivores to avoid it, the smaller guys will happily go after the ripe fruits. Box turtles are actually the primary distributors of mayapple seeds2,3. The fruits grow at just the right height for the turtles to reach them, and the seeds are more likely to germinate after being exposed to the turtle’s acidic digestive environment.

While the mayapple is extremely poisonous, it does have a history of use as a medicinal plant. In the past, it was used as an emetic, anthelminthic, and treatment for skin conditions like warts. Podophyllotoxin, one of its primary toxic constituents, is actually the active ingredient in a topical treatment named Podofilox that’s used to treat some viral skin conditions like genital warts and molluscum contagiosum. It works by inhibiting the replication of cellular and viral DNA as it binds to key enzymes4.

Using Mayapples

If you’re going to use mayapple, do it carefully. Wear gloves. Don’t put it in anything that you’re going to ingest, or even anything that could potentially come in contact with your skin. While the ability to keep DNA from replicating is helpful when you’re trying to kill a skin virus, it’s very much not okay when it’s working on your cells instead.

For real. Be careful.

A botanical illustration of a complete mayapple plant, showing the pair of leaves, white flower, and large root.
n71_w1150 by BioDivLibrary is licensed under CC-PDM 1.0

Whole dried mayapple roots could be used to make an alraun. This is a dried tormentil or false mandrake root (Bryonia alba) used in German folk magic, carved and decorated into a kind of spirit doll. Keeping and properly maintaining one is said to bring good fortune to the household. The alraun (or alraune) would also be bathed in red wine, which could then be sprinkled around the household for protective purposes.

Caring for an alraun is pretty intensive. Once prepared, it needs to be wrapped in a red and white silk cloth, put in a special case, and bathed in red wine every Friday. On each new moon, it should be given a new shirt. These dolls were also passed down through families, though they must be inherited in a particular way: When the father of a family dies, his eldest son may inherit the alraun by placing a piece of bread and a coin in his father’s coffin. If the eldest son dies, his eldest son (or younger brother, if he has no sons) may likewise inherit the alraun by the same method5.

If creating and caring for an alraun seems a bit intense, you can also use dried mayapple in container spells. Just make sure to wear gloves while handling it, and don’t place it anywhere where children or animals may come in contact with it.

Rinse the dried root in water or alcohol and sprinkle it around anywhere you wish to protect. Again, be cautious not to get it on your skin.

The seeds would be useful in formulas for rebirth or renewal. However, as mayapple has never particularly called to me as a “renewal” herb, I can’t offer any more in-depth suggestions here.

Mayapples are beautiful, unusual little plants. They pop up in spring in all of their bizarre glory, flower, fruit, and are gone by late summer. Treated with respect, they can be very useful — even heirloom-worthy — magical tools.

  1. Mayapple: Pictures, Flowers, Leaves & Identification | Podophyllum peltatum. https://www.ediblewildfood.com/mayapple.aspx.
  2. Braun, J., & Brooks, G. R. (1987). Box Turtles (Terrapene carolina) as Potential Agents for Seed Dispersal. American Midland Naturalist, 117(2), 312. doi:10.2307/2425973.
  3. Rust RW, Roth RR. Seed Production and Seedling Establishment in the Mayapple, Podophyllum peltatum L. The American Midland Naturalist. 1981;105(1):51. doi:10.2307/2425009
  4. Podofilox (topical) monograph for professionals. Drugs.com. (n.d.). https://www.drugs.com/monograph/podofilox-topical.html
  5. Deutsche Sagen, herausg. von den Brüdern Grimm. Google Books. https://books.google.com/books?id=SRcFAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA135. (In German.)

composition of cosmetic bottle with pink rose petals and wooden plate Project Pan: What’s Worth It, and What Wasn’t.
life

Project Pan: What’s Worth It, and What Wasn’t.

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As I mentioned a bit ago, I’ve been doing a sort of Project Pan with my skincare supplies. (I am not a dude of makeup, so I don’t tend to accumulate enough of that to warrant one. When I do get fancy face colors, they’re usually sample sizes to begin with.) I’ve made quite a bit of progress, so I thought I might do a short breakdown of what proved to be worth re-buying, and what definitely wasn’t.

For full disclosure, I’ve got sensitive combination skin. Finding products that work for me is a challenge — even if I get samples first, it can take a bit for negative reactions to become apparent. That’s why I’ve accumulated skincare over time, as I try to find what actually does the job without too many downsides.

Also, absolutely nobody is paying me to do this and none of these are affiliate links. I’m just including them for convenience’s sake, so you can check out whatever piques your interest. All product photos belong to their respective brands.

composition of cosmetic bottle with pink rose petals and wooden plate
Photo by Photo By: Kaboompics.com on Pexels.com

First, the stuff worth re-buying:

Cleanser: Trader Joe’s Nourish cleanser, about $7

This stuff just works for me. It’s also cheap and easy to get and if they ever discontinue it, I may have a fit of apoplexy. It doesn’t irritate or dry out my skin the way many other cleansers do, and it doesn’t leave any weird residues. It’s just nice and functional.

My only complaint is the plastic bottle (the efficacy of plastic recycling has been greatly overstated), but it’s a pretty basic one without any extraneous bells and whistles so at least it isn’t as wasteful as it otherwise could be.

Toner: Pyunkang Yul Essense Toner, $15.99

This toner is more like a serum. It’s inexpensive, it’s soothing, and it has astragalus extract in it which I guess does something. I’ve had days when all I’ve used is a cleanser, this, and moisturizer, and my skin has felt fabulous. I also notice a difference when I’ve run out of it.

I pat it on my skin immediately after washing, while my face is still damp. Then I either use a serum on top of it, or go right to moisturizer.

This is another product that comes in a plastic bottle, but, because of the way it’s dispensed, I’m not sure how well glass or aluminum would work. As with the TJ’s cleaner, at least it’s a pretty basic bottle.

Serum #1: The Ordinary Marine Hyaluronate, $9.20

This is a waterier version of The Ordinary’s other hyaluronic acid. It’s very light, but it does the job. It doesn’t make my skin feel tight or sticky, it’s just a gentle, soothing humectant. I use about five drops of it, so a bottle lasts me for a while. The very light, watery texture also means that it layers well with other serums — it absorbs right away, so there’s no pilling or other weirdness.

Like the PKY toner, I also notice a difference when I’ve run out of this one. It’s just so nice for some added moisture under a heavier serum or cream.

This one comes in a glass dropper bottle. I often end up reusing these for oil blends and other stuff.

Serum #2: The Ordinary Pycnogenol 5%, $11.50

This is an oil-like (but oil-free) serum containing maritime pine extract. It’s a potent antioxidant, and the consistency means that it’s moisturizing, too. The naturally reddish color also makes me look like I’m painting my cheeks with the blood of my foes, and that’s a neat concept!

It has a natural sort of piney, almost floral fragrance. It’s very nice. I like to use this during the day, or at night any time I’ve been in the sun, on the road, or otherwise exposed to conditions that would make me benefit from some help with skin recovery.

These come in little amber glass dropper bottles. As with the hyaluronic acid serum, I usually end up reusing them myself. It’s a tiny bottle, but a little bit goes a very long way.

Serum #3: The Ordinary Lactic Acid 5% + HA, $8.10

This is a gentle chemical exfoliant. I don’t respond super great to retinoids, but lactic acid leaves my skin plump and glowy. There’s also a 10% version, but I like the gentler 5% version more for my sensitive skin.

I use about three drops at night, and definitely notice a difference when I haven’t been using it. It’s nice, it doesn’t sting, smell terrible, or leave my face feeling tight or gunky.

These come in frosted glass bottles.

Day Cream: Pyunkang Yul Calming Moisture Barrier Cream, $16.99

This is a light day cream that’s almost between a cream and a gel. I use it in the mornings, and it doesn’t feel heavy, break me out, or leave my skin sticky. It’s just a nice, inexpensive moisturizer that works. No fragrances, nothing that makes my sensitive combination skin uncomfortable, it’s just good.

The jar is heavy plastic. I wish it was glass. I love it, but if I’m able to find a substitute in a glass jar then I wouldn’t mind switching.

Night Cream: Derma-E Ultra Hydrating Advanced Repair Night Cream, $31.50

This is the most expensive item in my routine, and it’s still really reasonable for what it does and how much I use. It’s a nice, rich cream that absorbs well but is still occlusive enough that I don’t feel like it’s all gone by morning. Layered over hyaluronic acid and pycnogenol, it’s lovely. The jar isn’t huge, but it lasts me for quite a while.

This one comes in a glass jar, which is rad.

Sunscreen: haruharu WONDER Black Rice Pure Mineral Relief Daily Sunscreen, $22.00

This stuff is really nice. It’s SPF 50+, made for sensitive skin, reef safe, and doesn’t leave me with a whitish case. (I have light skin with beige undertones. It is aggressively neutral and, even though my skin is light, a lot of mineral sunscreens make me look like I’m wearing corpse paint.) It’s also lightly hydrating and feels nice.

I wish it came in a glass pump bottle. Their other packaging materials are 100% recycled and Forest Stewardship Council-certified paper printed with soy-based inks, so that’s nice.

The stuff that I’m not re-buying:

Serum: The Ordinary Matrixyl 10% + HA, $10.90

I don’t know if this even did anything other than make my face sticky and give me an occasional pimple. Someone else may very well benefit from it, but I didn’t see any.

I ended up using it on the backs of my hands so it wouldn’t go to waste. My hands did look smoother and feel softer, but I feel like adding a serum step to an anti-aging hand care routine is a bridge too far for me.

The bottle is a nice glass dropper bottle, though.

Serum: The Inkey List Retinol Serum, $15.00

This one was just sort of fine. I probably would’ve repurchased it, but the plastic squeeze tube was a really annoying and inconvenient way to dispense it. I feel like I waste product by dispensing it into my hands first, so I really prefer to be able to drop a single drop where my skin needs it most. With this packaging, it almost invariably dispensed way more than I needed, which got annoying.

I used it all up on my face, but the inefficient application and plastic tube make it a no for me.

Moisturizer: The Inkey List Bakuchiol Moisturizer, $15.00

I’ve used products with bakuchiol in the past, but this moisturizer was a no-go for me. The squeeze tube, while not my favorite, was fine for applying a cream. However, the moisturizer itself was just kind of sticky and irritating. I don’t like feeling sticky, and I don’t like feeling itchy, and this did both.

I ended up using it on the backs of my hands, and now my hands are officially fancy.

Lip Balm: The Inkey List Tripeptide Plumping Lip Balm, $13.00

I wanted to love this. I did. It even seemed to work at first — my lips felt smoother and plumper, and it wasn’t sticky. The trouble here lies in one single ingredient: Castor oil.

For some people, castor oil is fine. For others, not so much. If you find that lip balm tends to make your lips flakier afterward, you might be sensitive to castor oil. (You may also find that you react badly to natural deodorants that contain zinc ricinoleate.)

This balm made my lips to dry and peely, it was almost like a chemical burn. Like, dead-of-winter, have-not-had-a-drop-of-moisture-even-half-of-a-time-in-months dry. Your mileage may vary, but, if you’ve had issues with products containing castor oil or zinc ricinoleate in the past, you probably want to skip this one.

I’m feeling pretty good. I’ve whittled things down to what works for me, and I don’t feel a need to try to continue to optimize my routine. A cleanser, a toner, serum, and moisturizer. One exfoliating serum, one moisturizing serum, and one antioxidant serum. I’m pretty much covered for whatever my skin goes through.

jars with kombucha and dark herbal beverage “YOU WOULDN’T DOWNLOAD KOMBUCHA!”
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“YOU WOULDN’T DOWNLOAD KOMBUCHA!”

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Remember when I was brewing water kefir and accidentally almost made my Handsome Assistant lose an eye? As much as I loved the process (and the product), I also found that water kefir required a lot more attention than I am accustomed to from my colonies of semi-feral microorganisms. So, I’d been considering going back to making kombucha.

And remember those PSAs about video piracy from back in the day?

Joke’s on them. I would 100% download a car.

(Also, hello again! I apologize for my unannounced hiatus last week. It was my Handsome Assistant’s birthday, the world is on fire, and I was not feeling my best. I am better now and 100% back on my bullshit again.)

Anyhow, I was originally introduced to kombucha by a very sweet lady from Russia that I used to work with back when I still did Laboratory Stuff. (Predominantly a series of small, purposeful, semi-controlled explosions.) She brought me part of her SCOBY, and I used that for ages. Eventually, I fell out of the practice when my then-partner and I moved.

The trouble is, getting back into making kombucha hasn’t been super easy. Tracking down a live SCOBY isn’t always the simplest process and having them shipped through the mail can be tricky. (Of course, this is true of anything living that has to go through the mail. Bugs. Plants. Small children.)

Fortunately, there is a solution: Just kind of make your own, with a little help from the bottled stuff.

The majority of bottled kombucha on the market is raw. It has to be, in order to do the whole “probiotic” thing. This means that, even without a SCOBY, it contains what you need in order to brew more kombucha.

I’ve read posts that claim that bottled kombucha has been somehow “weakened,” and isn’t as strong as the starter culture used to produce commercial kombucha. I have my doubts about this because this would mean that it also wouldn’t be very effective as a probiotic. I’m also not sure of what kind of process would selectively weaken a probiotic culture in order to… install some kind of microbial DRM, I guess?

Even if this were the case, it doesn’t actually matter. As anyone who’s started a sourdough culture or accidentally left a bottle of juice out for a few days can tell you, the bacteria and yeasts responsible for fermentation are all around us. The trick is to select for those, and not pathogenic bacteria or toxic fungi. If you start with bottled raw kombucha, you’re already starting with something that has the low pH and natural compounds needed to keep down populations of unwanted microorganisms. It might take a couple of rounds for a SCOBY to get to full strength, but it’ll get there. I mean, the first kombucha ever made didn’t have a SCOBY to start with. Even if all you have is a bottle of kombucha, you’re ahead of the game.

The process is easy:

A close-up of a jar of tea, showing a thin SCOBY "skin" on the surface,
If you look at the surface of the tea, you can see a thin SCOBY formed from the bottled kombucha.
  1. Get a bottle of kombucha. Make sure it’s raw. Flavor doesn’t really matter. Drink about half to two thirds of it. Leave the goopy stuff at the bottom.
  2. Clean a nice, wide mouth jar. Rinse it thoroughly.
  3. Brew up some nice, strong tea in your jar. I prefer green. (While you technically can make kombucha from herbal tea, this isn’t really recommended. If you do want to do so, you’re advised to cycle between a batch of herbal kombucha and a batch of the regular kind. To start with, you’re better off working with actual tea — the stuff made from Camellia sinensis, without any other additives.)
  4. Add a bunch of sugar. It should be very sweet, albeit not syrupy. Don’t worry about the sweetness, because the kombucha will eat most of the sugar anyway.
  5. Allow the tea to cool to room temperature, or just slightly above. Too much heat will kill off the culture.
  6. Swirl the bottled kombucha thoroughly to incorporate the goopy stuff into the liquid. Pour the bottled kombucha into your tea and sugar mixture.
  7. Cover the jar with a bit of cloth, a sturdy paper towel, or a coffee filter. Secure it with a rubber band.
  8. Put it someplace clean, warm, and dry, out of direct sunlight.
  9. Ignore it for a while. You’ll eventually begin to see a thin, translucent “skin” forming on the top. This is a baby SCOBY! With time, it’ll get thicker.

After a week or so, your SCOBY should be a bit more substantial. Brew up more tea and sugar and transfer it to a new jar to allow it to continue to grow. The old SCOBY will break down, and a new one will form on the top. If conditions are right, it’ll gain some strength with each successive iteration. It’s a good idea to cut the SCOBY into halves so you can have two separate batches running at once — that way, if one goes weird, you’ll still have a backup.

So far, this process has been working out well for me. The SCOBY is SCOBYing, and I’m coming up with ideas for flavoring a second ferment. I’m thinking a ginger peach or raspberry and rose.

Insidious kudzu vines have overwhelmed The solution to kudzu: Eat it.
Plants and Herbs

The solution to kudzu: Eat it.

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The other day, I posted a video of foraging and processing kudzu roots to a group I’m a part of. A few friends seemed interested — one messaged me that they knew of a potential patch. That weekend, armed with trowels, bags, and gloves, we set out to track us down some kudzu.

If you’re in the southeastern US and you do any kind of gardening, the word “kudzu” may well strike fear into your heart. As Nature.org‘s “Kudzu: The Invasive Vine that Ate the South” puts it, “kudzu is quite a killer, overtaking and growing over anything in its path.” Drive down a highway, and it’s not uncommon to see it choking out trees, climbing over fences, and dragging down powerlines.

Insidious kudzu vines have overwhelmed
Insidious kudzu vines have overwhelmed by Carol M Highsmith is licensed under CC-CC0 1.0

In short, we were more than happy to learn how to eat some.

In its native range, kudzu is still an aggressive grower. It’s not invasive, of course, because a native plant by definition can’t be invasive. One of the things that helps keep kudzu in balance is the fact that it’s useful as a food and medicinal plant. People regularly harvest it to eat as a root vegetable and process into starch.

There’s only one problem: It was very early spring. There were no leaves on anything. Identifying it meant looking for a specific kind of brown twig in a mass of other brown twigs, then trying to follow it back to the ground, dig there for a while, and hope it had led to something resembling a kudzu root. Fortunately, kudzu doesn’t have many lookalikes, and its hairy stems and growth habit help to differentiate it.

Also, kudzu roots get enormous.

My Handsome Assistant is a powerlifter. Even with him pulling and our friend and me digging, it still took a lot of time to liberate several fairly small roots. Still, it was a success and, I figured, I decent amount for a first attempt. Nothing we’d have to bust out a table saw to cut through. Just enough to hopefully end up with some starch (and give us the opportunity to decide if it was worth the effort).

A small clump of kudzu roots in a stainless steel sink.
Some of the kudzu roots, trimmed from a larger one.

Tl;dr, I’m probably just going to make them into a stew next time. Maybe paper.

Processing the kudzu roots involved scrubbing them well, peeling away their tougher, fibrous outsides, cutting them into chunks, and pureeing them well with plenty of water. Once pureed, we strained the pulp, squeezed it out, rinsed it, squeezed it out again, and poured the liquid into large jars to let the starch settle to the bottom.

It was that last bit that proved the most problematic.

See, we’d hoped to get the roots before they used their stored energy (in other words, starch) to put out a flush of new spring growth. However, the roots we got were small and fairly skinny (which is probably for the best — we might’ve needed a backhoe for big ones). The little bit of starch that settled out ended up lost during the refinement and decanting process.

Still! It was an interesting learning experience. I’d definitely change how we did some things (like I mentioned, I’d love to try preparing the smaller roots in other ways, like roasting or stewing). I also have a mold and deckle and, considering that starch is used as sizing for papermaking, I’d like to try using the pulp to extract most of the starch and, rather than discarding/composting the pulp, see how it works in paper.

I’ve also heard that the flowers smell like grape candy and can make a jam that tastes like something between apple and peach. Since I’ve had really good results making rose petal confiture, I’m excited to try making some with kudzu flowers.

So, obtaining some kudzu starch may have been a bust this time, but I have ideas!

Korpiklaani, Ensiferum, TrollfesT, and NiNi at Baltimore Soundstage.
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Korpiklaani, Ensiferum, TrollfesT, and NiNi at Baltimore Soundstage.

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Last Friday, my Handsome Assistant and I went to Baltimore Soundstage to see Folkfest of the North, featuring Nini, TrollfesT, Ensiferum, and Korpiklaani. We were both only familiar with the latter two, but hey, I’m always up to hear some unfamiliar stuff in genres I’m into.

And it was a fantastic idea.

We came in at the end of Nini’s set because we were running late, despite our best efforts. It doesn’t help that I was wearing cargo pants (they’re men’s pants, so they have the good pockets) and had forgotten the amount of random life flotsam that I had accumulated throughout the day. So I had to fully unload some weird little art projects, about eleven lipbalms, my keys, a handkerchief, and a pocket full of lobelia seeds I had foraged on a walk while I was looking for skulls. (“Those are… emotional support seeds.”)

Anyway. We came in just as NiNi was halfway through a cover of Baby One More Time. I was glad we didn’t miss them entirely, but I would’ve liked to hear more. Fortunately, she has a pretty extensive YouTube channel with her other work — folk metal played with traditional Chinese instruments (Nini herself is Taiwanese).

Next was TrollfesT, from Norway. They came out in full flamingo costumes for Flamingo Overlord, a concept album about the rise of a world-dominating flamingo dictator. Their opening song was Dance Like a Pink Flamingo, which is loads of fun, very catchy, and an absolutely scathing indictment of remaining apolitical and distracting yourself while the world burns around you.

Their songs were great. There was a bubble machine. There was a massive venue-spanning conga line. It was a fantastic time and I’ve been listening to them on repeat ever since. I hate that it took me this long to hear them.

After that was Ensiferum, who probably needs no introduction. I used to listen to them a lot years ago, but kind of fell out of it (and I’m sorry I did). They were also very good, and it was immediately obvious that a ton of the crowd was there for them. I didn’t recognize their newer stuff, but that’s fine with me — I was 100% here for it regardless.

Last up was Korpiklaani, the band that originally got me to get tickets in the first place. They’re always a lot of fun — there’s never a lot of between-songs banter, so it’s just back-to-back bangers. Jonne Jarvela’s mic was also better than last time, so the vocals were much more balanced and not as drowned out.

Also, I’ve read the stereotypes of folk metal fans: We’re not as hard as other metalheads. We dig the silliness. We’re here to party. We drink room-temperature dark beer and are more likely to form kick lines and dance in a circle than mosh. And honestly? I get it. Hell, I embrace it.

(I have, however, never met a racist folk metal fan. That’s not to say that they don’t exist, of course — lift up any subculture and you’re bound to find all sorts of weird things crawling underneath — but the bands I enjoy don’t espouse those ideas, and the folk metalheads I’ve interacted with don’t either. Honestly, most of them have stories about bouncing dickheads from shows.)

Also:

A meme of a frowning man in a button-down plaid shirt and navy blue puffer vest. The text says "Folk metal fans when a song doesn't have an accordion solo."
Shamlessly stolen from the r/MetalMemes subreddit.

Both my Handsome Assistant and I had a great time. All of the bands were delightful. I went home a sweaty mess from dancing (and honestly, you should come home with sweaty hair and streaky makeup from a show. At maximum, a minor concussion and maybe some loose teeth but your mileage may vary). I can’t wait until any of them are back in the area again. 🖤

brown panel during nighttime What’s going down in Rock Creek (and why it’s a big deal)
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What’s going down in Rock Creek (and why it’s a big deal)

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This weekend, my Handsome Assistant and I attended an educational picnic to save Rock Creek, which is currently at risk from the continued expansion of a golf course. Construction has already begun, parts of the forest are being turned into mulch as we speak. Over 1,200 trees are slated to be cut down, including some that would otherwise be considered special or heritage trees under DC law.

This deforestation is part of an effort to expand multiple golf courses throughout the DC area.

Yeah, I know.

Even without further examination, I mean — who is building golf courses right now, of all things? The answer is the National Links Trust. While people worry about paying rent and getting their next meal, the National Links Trust apparently thinks that the public yearns for more golf courses. It’s something that sounds almost moustache-twirlingly villainous. Like the plot of an after school special where the heroes are a band of plucky cartoon kittens. Unfortunately, this is actually happening.

What’s the deal with the National Links Trust?

The NLT’s stated intention is “positively impacting our community and changing lives through affordable and accessible municipal golf.”

This is something that doesn’t sound… terrible, barring the whole “people-can’t-afford-food-right-now-you-rich-weirdoes” aspect. However, here’s what the NLT isn’t saying:

Lem Smith, NLT board member, International & Federal Government Affairs Manager for Chevron, and Former VP, Federal Government Relations for the American Petroleum Institute.
  • One of the board members, Lem Smith, is the International and Federal Government Affairs Manager for Chevron. The Chevron responsible for dumping 16 billion gallons of toxic wastewater into the Amazon basin. The Chevron currently denying millions in fossil fuel transit fees to the Palestinian people. The Chevron currently funding apartheid and war crimes. That Chevron.
  • While they claim that they’re attempting to mitigate the harm done by the deforestation of Rock Creek (harm that is, once again, completely unnecessary and unasked for), they are not adhering to the best practices for doing so. There are multiple ways to mitigate the damage of both removing old growth trees and the presence of invasive plants, but their policy seems to be to mulch everything and call it good.
  • They’re not actually accountable to anyone. They can make half-hearted promises to plant meadows and maintain the forest all they want, but there is no incentive for them to keep them and nothing to stop them from doing whatever they want.

They claim that they’re willing to dedicate unused golf courses to being replanted as meadows. This is not a suitable compromise for multiple reasons:

There’s also the fact that it doesn’t seem like anybody actually asked for this. When asked, local golfers appear to be ambivalent at best. The NLT was able to scrape together some who are in favor of it to make a public appearance, but these don’t appear to reflect the opinion of the majority of the new course’s ostensible user base. They are absolutely not reflective of the larger population of DC and the adjacent area.

Here’s why it matters (no matter where or who you are).

So the NLT is attempting to build a golf course. Like I said, this is a huge deal and will have far-reaching effects even if you don’t live anywhere near DC. Here’s why:

Old growth areas are carbon sinks.

It is generally thought that old forests cease to accumulate carbon, but this isn’t the case. Research shows that in forests between 15-800 years of age, “net ecosystem productivity (the net carbon balance of the forest including soils) is usually positive.” What’s more, carbon doesn’t cease to exist once it’s taken up. When these areas are disturbed, that carbon is liberated as plant matter decays or is burned. Rather than trees dying naturally over time, breaking down, and having their nutrients (including carbon) absorbed into the mature forest, deforestation disrupts this natural cycle.

Rock Creek is part of the Potomac watershed.

Trees support healthy watersheds. Rock Creek itself connects to the Potomac River, and eventually drains into the Atlantic Ocean via the Chesapeake Bay. Trees contribute to healthy waterways by anchoring soil in place, preventing erosion. Their root systems (including the mycorrhizae within the soil that surrounds their roots) help capture nutrients. Without these systems in place, they would otherwise flow into the water to encourage algal blooms and fish kills, a process known as eutrophication. Removing these trees and replacing them with grass that requires a regimen of fertilizers and treatments to maintain is a terrible idea.

The last thing anyone needs is golf course runoff oozing into our local waterways.

Golf courses need a lot of water.

I already mentioned supplemental irrigation, but I’ll say it again: Golf courses need a lot of water. They are generally watered with sprinkler systems that lead to a lot of waste and loss through evaporation. This also puts strain on existing systems, reducing the availability of water for other uses and increasing scarcity issues. Only about 12% of golf courses surveyed use recycled water, and even with more efficient irrigation methods, turf grass remains a very wasteful use of land and water.

We’ve already had droughts here. We’re already told not to use any more water than necessary during the summer because of scarcity issues. Why are they building a golf course?

This could increase the transmission of avian flu.

I’m not being hyperbolic when I say this. Destruction of wildlife habitats drive populations of wild animals into greater contact with humans. If old growth trees are destroyed, the thousands of birds that they house and feed get pushed elsewhere. That “elsewhere” is going to be people’s back yards.

How does that relate to the H5N1 virus? More displaced birds mean more contact between wild birds and flocks of backyard fowl. It means more indoor-outdoor cats that come in contact with potentially infected birds. It means more bird feces on cars, decks, and feeders. A higher overall population of birds congregating in the same feeding and shelter areas means a higher risk of potentially zoonotic H5N1 moving through that population.

Birds aren’t the only ones that’re going to be displaced, either. Look for more conflicts with foxes, raccoons, rodents, and coyotes, too.

If it was living in that part of Rock Creek, it’s gonna need a new place to go. In an area as densely populated as DC and the surrounding suburbs, there aren’t many other options.

This further undermines Washington, DC, as a political entity.

Washington, DC, has been pushing for statehood for some time now. (A significant part of the reason why it keeps getting struck down is that DC would be a majority blue state, so it benefits the Conservative party to avoid allowing it to have any more representation than it already does.) While it isn’t a state, DC does still have home rule in some aspects. For example, DC’s tree law provides numerous protections specifically for heritage trees. Removal of a tree that qualifies as a “special tree” requires a permit. Healthy heritage trees cannot be removed, period.

Rock Creek is part of the National Park System. As such, even though a significant portion is within DC, DC isn’t able to enforce its tree laws to protect it. This inability to protect trees within its area further undermines DC as a legal and political entity.

The National Park Service is part of the problem.

Rock Creek is a national park, but it hasn’t been maintained as one. Invasive plants are a significant issue, and one that the National Park Service hasn’t adequately remedied. There are local people who are trained as Weed Warriors, who are able to legally remove invasive plants. However, there’s only so much they can do.

Part of the inception of the National Park Service was to push Indigenous Americans off of their ancestral land, with the claim that the land must be “preserved.” (Madison Grant helped launch the national parks movement — he also wrote The Passing of the Great Race, which gave a very detailed account of his negative views of Indigenous people, Black people, and immigrants.) In reality, the land in the National Park System was being preserved just fine while its original stewards were living there.

The neglect of Rock Creek shows that this land is not being protected or preserved. Furthermore, its current state has incentivized the NPS to sell part of Rock Creek in order to have it cut down and turned into a golf course. The idea is, I guess, that the National Links Trust would do the preserving instead, by… cutting the trees down and turning the land into a putting green.

It’s all so, so ridiculous, and it’s a terrible omen of things to come. Nothing good will come of the NPS being allowed to neglect public lands, then sell them off.

Light pollution is going to be a problem, too.

In addition to the loss of exceptionally old trees, biodiversity, and wildlife habitat, the presence of a golf course will increase light pollution in the area. The plans call for a driving range that will be lit through the night hours. This will disrupt nocturnal animals, including (especially) insects. We’re already experiencing a dramatic drop in insect populations. We don’t need a @#$%ing driving range that nobody asked for to begin with.

The land is removed from public use.

Right now, you can just go to Rock Creek. You can walk around. Picnic. Bird watch. Have a grand old time.

Already, the area of the forest that is earmarked for cutting has been removed from public use. You can’t just go there — people who have have been told to leave.

Meadows aren’t forests.

Even if the NTL carries out their plan to turn unused golf courses into meadows, meadows do not provide the same benefits as forests. I’ve been very vocal here about my efforts to remediate the immature, hard clay soil and turn it into mature soil. Cultivating turf grass is terrible for soil and doesn’t allow it to mature.

So here’s a bunch of immature soil that’ll be used to grow some (one can hope, but certainly not assume) native flowers and grasses. This will take over a hundred years become anything like the area that’s currently being cut down, in a process known as forest succession. While meadows are certainly better than the sterile monoculture of a putting green, they do not play the same role or have the same benefits as a century old forest.

Here’s what you can do.

Right now, the easiest thing to do is to boycott Chevron and its associated companies. People across the US and around the world are rejecting Chevron. Coupled with lower sales of jet fuel and other factors, Chevron recently reported a loss for the first time since 2020.

This effort to turn part of Rock Creek into a golf course is just a continuation of Chevron’s ongoing pattern of land acquisition and destruction. They are promoting this destruction via the National Links Trust. If you are interested in helping to put a stop to this, please visit Defend Rock Creek’s Linktree for further steps that you can take.