The joys of having a propagator friend

We all know that my friend Country Mouse is a passionate, devoted propagator. And watching the greenhouse evolve has been so much fun. Indeed, having a propagator friend is wonderful in so many ways.

First, I've learned a lot. I never thought I'd actually propagate my own plants, but now I sow some annuals every year. I've managed to root a few mimulus and I'm plotting a few other things. When I forget, I can just look up all the great information she provides right here on the blog (I didn't even know we have 32 posts on that topic).

But of course I'm also thrilled to receive plants, and Ms. Country Mouse has been most generous. Above the beautiful Mimulus guttatus (seep monkey flower) that I received this spring. Several large plants were put together in a burgundy pot and the result is stunning. And don't you love the little freckles on their throats that you can see close up?

Also a great success has been the thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus). I hesitated a bit because this plant, like brambles, can spread. But it's stunning in a pot, and the bright green really lights up the shade. I'm curious whether I'll get flowers.

I'm also very happy with the Heuchera micranta, locally native on the Country Mouse property, that I received as generous gifts. I think I planted five or six, and they are all doing well, some blooming, others welcome because of the striking foilage pattern. Interestingly, different plants come out different, and I love the variations on the Heuchera theme.

And of course the best thing isn't just the stuff. The best thing is receiving the gift of friendship. The best thing is knowing that up there in the hill someone is busy working on making the world a little bit better, one plant at a time.

Roaming in the Gloaming - in the Redwoods

Growing up in Scotland, you often heard Roamin' in the Gloamin' (the gloaming is dusk) - it was a popular schmaltzy Scottish song sung by guys in kilts, starting with Harry Lauder, tipping their hips just a wee jaunty bit to the beat. - Roamin' in the gloamin', on the bonnie banks o' Clyde... Roamin' in the gloamin' wi' ma lassie by my side...

Wood Rat, Duncan and I have been doing our own bit of roamin' in the gloamin' after work, in these longer days we're now enjoying, and taking in our property, envisioning what we might do here and there in the future, enjoying what is there in the present, and regretting what has been lost in the past -- the old redwoods that were clearcut throughout the Santa Cruz mountains, leaving just some pockets of Big Trees saved for posterity in various state parks - near here: Forest of Nisene Marks, Henry Cowell Redwoods, and Big Basin Redwoods.

So, the other night we wandered into the small redwood grove behind my dad's cottage. It isn't really a grove - it's the appendix to a larger swathe of redwoods, all grown since logging days, that extends down the north slope behind our house. What we call the grove is a peninsula bounded by a path, a driveway, and the road. And it isn't really that small, when you think about maintaining it as a garden space. One day, though, we hope it will be somewhat groomed, with the addition of some understory plants such as Western Azalea. I've already started adding a few bits of interest to the edges.

Here we are entering the path down the middle of the grove, which begins behind my dad's cottage.


Here's what it looks like in the middle. There are lots of spindly small trees that we will probably remove. Some people advise us to do nothing, but in this area, we will very probably do something. When you clear the spindly ones, which will never amount to anything, you get nice areas that could hold a few seats, or a hammock.


Near the bottom of the path - the white you see is the road beyond:


We need to fill in the edge here with some interesting shrubs and perennials. I'm planning to try thimble berry here, Rubus parviflorum, more sea foam, Holodiscus discolor, and not sure what else. I've also planted a bit of redwood sorrel, Oxalis oragana, near the top hoping it will take and spread. Also growing natively here, along the edges, is is yerba buena, Satureja douglasii; soap plant, Chlorogalum pomeridianum; Torrey's melic, Torreyana melica, and fairy lanterns, Calochortus albus (but not this year). And other native things - all of which I hope to encourage one way or another. I'll also check out the redwood habitat area of Town Mouse's garden for ideas too!

The side of the grove that borders the driveway has oaks, toyon, bay, madrone. And a few still very small Holodiscus discolor and thimbleberry, all grown from local seed:


Time for another look up:

Ah!!

We take our coast redwoods for granted, forgetting how small - how narrow - their natural range is. Less than 500 miles long and 50 miles wide. Sequoia sempervirens. "Ever-living" - except when humans come in an cut them all down. I read that the origin of the name "Sequoia" is as follows:

... tree genus name given by Endlicher (1847), in honor of Sequoya (1760-1843), Cherokee man who invented a system of writing for his people's language, whose name is from Cherokee (Iroquoian) Sikwayi, a word of unknown etymology.

http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=sequoia

Well it's nice to have a genus named for a native American and not the European who labeled it. Just think, they could have been known as Endlicheria sempervirens! Oh, the wonderful giant endlichers, it just doesn't have that ring to it! Thank you, Herr Endlicher! (Though he does in fact have a genus named after him!) He was also a linguist, apparently - hence his interest in honoring this particular native American, I suppose. Oh, I love these little stories that attach to botanical names.

I also read this:

coast redwoods condense enough fog to provide a large part—20 to 40 percent—of the total precipitation inputs to the coast redwood forest. In other experiments, the team proved that redwoods could soak up this water through their leaves as well from “fog drip” at their roots, helping explain how they can grow so tall. (The two tallest trees on record are just under 380 feet.)

http://www.savetheredwoods.org/protecting/todd_dawson_climate_change.shtml

Also on that site you can read some good general info about coast redwoods.

I'm not sure what to do with the shrubby bits growing out from the bottom of the trees. I know Jeffrey Caldwell advised me about this years ago and I've forgotten his advice. Time to have him back up soon I think!


Here Duncan and Wood Rat contemplate the Rest of the Redwoods, across the pathway that goes from the house down to the corral. It is not likely we'll do anything down there other than pick up the fallen branches now and then -- just too much to deal with! It's fun to explore down there, though, scrambling on beyond our notional boundary line, where a sense of mystery and slight danger scents the air, and new wonders lie awaiting discovery. Maybe time for a journey down that way soon.


But first - potting on some plants that are going to have to last through the summer for fall planting - the ones I sowed as seeds last fall! I'll show you those for sure in another post soon. And the "bulb ravioli" area which is coming into bloom marvelously right now - so exciting!

What happened with the hedge?

 

Regular readers of this blog might remember that as part of our energy efficiency upgrade, we had to ask our neighbor for permission to remove the boxwood hedge between our properties because PG&E had to put a new line right where the hedge was. Our neighbor graciously agreed to have us remove the hedge, and also to have me suggest some plants.  Of course I suggested a selection of California natives, and we eventually agreed on a combination of 3 species. A few months ago, when PG&E was finally done, I had my landscape contractor use some of the dirt he had to remove to stabilize the urbanite pathway to build a berm. Most natives love good drainage, and I wanted to give my babies the best chance. So, what did I choose? 

Two Rhamnus californica (California coffeeberry), shown here with some deer grass and yellow San Bruno aster in the background. Rhamnus does well in both sun and shade, and I planted the two closer to the house in the shadier part of the hedge strip. 

Between the two coffeeberries I planted one Arctostaphylos 'Sentinel' manzanita, and I planted two more on the sunny side of the second coffeeberry. Sentinel is one of the rare manzanitas that prefers to be taller than wide (or at least not much wider). I'm looking forward to the blossoms in early spring and the graceful dark branches look great. 

Closest to the street are two Arctostaphylos 'Sunset'. This species grows wide and possibly not quite as high and I hope it will bloom a little later than 'Sentinel', though the favored most sunny location might put them in sync. 

All three species should grow to 5-6 feet in height, and I'm hoping for a foot of growth per rainy season. To help them get established, I asked my irrigation contractor to put a temporary drip on both sides of the bushes. I can attach a hose every 10 days or so and deep water to encourage good root development. 

I finished each plant with golden gravel because bark mulch can result in fungus infection especially on manzanita. Besides, I'm interested in trying the mulch-less approach on my side strip to offer the bees some bare ground. An interesting experiment. 

For now, I'm hoping my mini-hedge will make it through the summer in one piece and hope to see something approaching a hedge in the spring of 2013. At that point, I can remove the temporary irrigation. But even before that, I'm hoping for coffeeberries in a few months and beautiful manzanita blossoms and berries next spring.

What's inevitable? -- Death, Taxes -- and Fire!

Where I live, periodic fires are part of nature's rhythm.

(Photo source: http://www.panoramio.com/user/3100664?with_photo_id=42153268, used with permission)

As we enter the dry months, my anxiety levels rise, and I talk to myself frequently about fire, what to do if there is fire, why I haven't prepared better for fire, and what are the chances I might die in a fire. I try to breathe and accept. But coming as I do from milder climes where there are no lions, earthquakes, poisonous critters -- or periodic fires, I do feel a bit jittery at times.

When Town Mouse and I were at Tassajara on the Wildflowers and Birds of Tassajara workshop, we enjoyed an evening slide show given by workshop leader Diane Renshaw, who is an ecologist and naturalist. Diane has been closely involved with Tassajara for many years, and has studied the ecology there, including the fires.

As you may know, Tassajara almost burned in the Basin Complex fire of 2008, and Diane was there right after the fire. What had been thick stands of chaparral were reduced to open land with a few blackened sticks, as shown in the first picture above.

By the way, a book about Tassajara and the fire is coming out soon. It's called Fire Monks: Zen Meets Wildfire at the Gates of Tassajara, by Colleen Morton Busch and it tells the story of the Zen monks who remained behind after the evacuation order to - literally, do or die as needed.

In fact on our hike, we walked through those same areas she showed in the slide show. Now many shrubs are vigorously sprouting or starting from seed, and many beautiful annual and perennial plants are flowering and enjoying both the ash-enriched soil and the sunlight that before was shut out by the dense chaparral canopy, which stood at between 8 and 15 feet or so.

Here's a picture taken on Prayer Flag Rock trail by Town Mouse in 2010:


And here is a similar area on the same trail, this year - you can see there has been some more plant growth, and also, unfortunately, the non-native European grasses have taken hold:


In her talk, Diane said we must just accept now that the non-native grasses are part of California's ecology, because they are not going away. (A fact to which I can attest having embarked too late again on weedy grass eradication in my north garden area. Still, I'll keep at it, tipping the balance a little more each year, I hope.)

These grasses washed ashore from the boats of the passing Spaniards even before they landed, and after they landed, from the fodder they fed the animals.

I have to work hard not to find this depressing. The loss of unique habitats, the changing character of the land... A workshop participant helped me step back and take in the larger perspective of change over longer stretches of time. Did you know there was once no San Francisco Bay? - the Sacramento river flowed through a valley and out between what is now the Golden Gate, and emptied into the sea which was several miles outside the Golden Gate.

Nothing stands still, and "restoration" is an impossible ideal. Still, nature balances and rebalances, miraculously, given time. It may not be what we want, but it is what is.

That is not to say restoration work is pointless. I will keep on at the north valley weeds. I focus now on the Bradley method, revegetating with natives that occur there naturally before progressing to another swathe, working from the paths outwards. I do see natives returning, naturally, and I do prefer them to the weeds, that IS for sure!

But I'll cultivate acceptance of the changed grasslands.

The first year after the fire, the wildflowers were stunning, and the second year, stunning again - both Town Mouse and I went in May of 2010, and you can see all our Tassajara posts under the label "Tassajara".

This year, almost three years after the fire, that initial explosion of flowering plants has muted slightly to the merely amazing. The post fire nutrients have been mostly used up, the canopy is starting to grow again, and the fire-germinated seeds have germinated now.

GARDENING TIP: Diane said she had had luck germinating fire-follower seeds using a Liquid Smoke type product, the stuff you can buy for barbecuing meat! A page on jhudsonseeds.net explains this method (search for "SMOKE TREATMENT"). Basically soak the seeds overnight in a 1:9 solution of a "natural" liquid smoke product, or water the planted seeds once with the solution!

I had to wait a long time for the shuttle out of Tassajara. Snow on the peaks -- yes snow! and rain and mud had caused many people to be stranded on the 11 mile dirt road into Tassajara, and the driver was busy rescuing people. I enjoyed this extra time there. One thing I did was peruse the Tassajara planning and development guide. I'll close with an essay that Diane wrote in that document, called "Chaparral Ecology and the Ventana Wilderness". It contrasts the behavior of fire in chaparral and in Sierra forests:

Sclerophyllous shrublands, known as chaparral in California, occur around the world in Mediterranean climates, and cover 3 percent of the world’s land surface. They grow in areas that share certain conditions: long, hot, dry summers; mild, wet winters; similar latitude and proximity to a cold ocean; and a continental land mass with high pressure systems that produce summer winds.

The fire ecology of chaparral ecosystems is complex, and research continues to turn up new information that improves our understanding of it. Most of the research to date on chaparral and fire has been done on southern California locations; little to none has been one on the Big Sur and Ventana areas surrounding Tassajara, a region of complex plant communities each with its own particular response to fire.

Wherever it is found, chaparral is characterized by its basic structure: dense, low-growing woody vegetation. While chaparral around the world has the same characteristic structure, the plant species that grow within the chaparral community can vary widely depending on local climate and geography. Because of its dense, woody vegetation pattern, this ecosystem is particularly susceptible to fire. Chaparral is prone to wildfires caused by dry lightning and human causes, on a periodic return interval of 30-75 years. Twenty-five percent of the Santa Lucia range has burned at least once since 1950, and the area around Tassajara, a mix of woodland, grassland, and chaparral, has burned 3 times in the past 33 years.

Generally speaking, under natural conditions, western conifer and oak forests burn on a shorter fire return interval. In these communities, surface fires burn through on regular intervals, consuming understory plants and dead branches. The trees are protected by thick bark. In the absence of the frequent fires (10-20 years or so) ladder fuels, dead biomass, and dense understories build up, leading to destructive crown fires. Fire suppression that allows the buildup of understory fuels has lead to management problems in these short fire return forests.

In contrast, crown fires are the ideal natural condition in chaparral. Because lightning is less common in chaparral areas, the fire return interval is longer (35-80 years or so) than in the Sierra forests. Dense packing and the abundance of small dead wood, thin bark, and numerous lichens facilitate easy, quick burning, so that when chaparral burns, it burns completely in a stand-replacing crown fire. Unlike the Sierra conifer forests, chaparral does not require frequent fires to stay healthy, and in fact can be destroyed by fires that come through too frequently, killing plants before they reach reproductive maturity. Survival and reproductive strategies in both the Sierra woodlands and the coastal chaparral are uniquely adapted to their own particular fire ecology.

A notable aspect of the chaparral ecosystem is that the first species that appear post-fire are also the climax species of that community. This means that the species that show up immediately after a fire are also the same species that will exist in the mature ecosystem after many years. There is not a succession of different species over time.

Chaparral plants exhibit three primary reproductive strategies in response to fire. Some plants (certain manzanitas, for instance) regenerate after a fire by resprouting from lignotubers, a woody burl at the base of the stem that resists burning. Plants in the lily family survive and sprout from bulbs, which are buried in the ground and thus protected from fire. Other plants recover from fire both by sprouting from the root crown or branches and by growing from fire-resistant seeds. Another group of plants (certain of the Ceanothus, for instance) do not resprout at all after the fire but instead rely solely on post-fire seedling establishment. These plants establish quickly after a fire and produce abundant seeds at a young age. Their seeds are resistant to decomposition in the soil and remain viable for decades, capable of waiting 75 years or more for the next fire to come along. Many of these seeds require specific triggers from another fire to break dormancy, germinating only when exposed to certain chemicals in smoke or exudates and leachates from charred wood. These unique pyrophytic, or fire-loving, annuals and endemics are often seen growing only in the first few years after a burn, not to be seen again for many decades until the next burn occurs.

All plants reproducing after a fire respond very positively to an increase in light, reduced competition, and increased nutrients released into the soil by the fire. Because of this, a burn will frequently be followed the next year by a remarkable display of spring wildflowers and plant growth[.]

Wish you were here!

Dear Mr. Mouse,

I'm so sorry you have to be on a business trip right during the best time in the garden. Imagine, yesterday evening I watched the mourning doves both coming for a drink at the bird bath, and then the romance started. You can see in the photo how Mr. M. Dove is puffed up and trying to look important while she is still not convinced. But later -- well, I didn't think we should have a photo of that on our blog.

A wonderful surprise was the Calochortus (mariposa lily) blooming in the pot in front of the sunroom for the first time. The pot as such looks a little dried out, but who can resist that blossom?

And finally, for the first time in three years the Lonicera hispedula (California honeysuckle) has not succumbed to an aphid infestation and is showing off beautiful pink blossoms (and, I hope, red berries will follow).

I do hope you make it back from your trip in time to enjoy these wonderful surprises -- without your help and support, this garden would still be a forelorn lawn.

Love
Town Mouse

Tassajara Wildflowers

The wonderfulness of the Wildflowers and Birds of Tassajara workshop that Town Mouse and I just enjoyed was quite overwhelming. The people were great - both the leaders and the participants - the place, stunning - I hardly know where to start.

Tassajara is a hot springs resort and Zen training monastery in a remote valley of Big Sur, and in summer they have a guest season. Their vegetarian dining is legendary, the bathing superb, the chance to participate in Zen meditation and practice inspiring.

Our first full day started with birdwatching - that day and next we saw and heard Bullock's Orioles, black-headed grosbeaks, dark eyed juncos, black phoebes, scrub jays, house wrens, canyon wrens, hairy woodpeckers, olive-sided flycatchers, western tanagers, red-tailed hawks - and of course, Stellar's jays. I didn't get a photo of one - and now I regret it - they are so vivid. But I enjoyed watching their cheeky bold ways.

Later the same day we headed up to Prayer Flag Rock, and were all entranced by the colors and varieties of wild flowers and other native plants.

Here we all are on the trail that winds up there. It was such fun to be in the midst of fellow enthusiasts! Some were very knowledgeable naturalists and botanists - so great to see how the experts key out a plant right there on the trail - what would take me 3 hours done in 30 seconds flat!

And below all I can do is give you a taste of the flora - not so expertly photographed as one might like. I was rather hasty in my snapping, I admit. In another post I'll show you some photos of the scenery around Tassajara and some of the wildlife.

The local sticky monkey is frillier and more apricot than the one where I live.

This black sage was in a garden so I'm not sure it is the local native kind we saw on the mountain.


Lots of pretty face, triteleia ixioides:


And stunning color combinations, here golden yarrow (Eryophyllum confertiflorum), which was abundant, and two forms of Indian paintbrush, here the woolly kind, I think - Castilleja foliolosa.


Here's another shot of that lovely combination, along with the beautiful sandstone rock that I just loved:


Lots of larkspur too, Delphinium parryi or D. patens, not sure which. (Also there was woolly blue curls a-plenty but I did not get a shot of it.)


Hummingbird sage, Salvia spathacea, was abundant:


And yucca (Hesperoyucca whipplei) spiked up here and there in the mix, along with blue dicks, Dichelostemma capitatum:

This looks like duddleya but I'm not sure what kind:

And different sorts of clarkia - here C. unguiculata:


Chinese houses, Collinsia heterophylla,

California Buckwheat, Eriogonum fasciculatum, shown below, and also naked buckwheat which I'm propagating here.


And many many more that I did not get photos of - how could one. And those I did were mostly hurried snaps, gobbled bites of color snatched in passing. Others took much better shots, and I did learn from more expert photographers too.

Well, next installment soon... I'll tell you more about what we learned about the effects of the Basin Complex wildfire - but now I'm being called to dinner. Thanks, Wood Rat for cooking while I blog!

Eco-friendly Concrete Alternative

As part of the green remodel Mr. Mouse has faithfully been blogging about here, we actually needed to have our current PGE feed upgraded to a 200 amp line. This involved several months of phone calls and the removal of a sizable piece of concrete.

When I asked our supposedly green contractor what he was planning to put in that place, he said "concrete, of course." I was stunned. First, concrete is a significant contributor to global warming. Sending concrete to the dump adds more stuff to the landfill. More importantly, one of the most important and easiest ways to conserve water is to prevent runoff. It's much better if water stays on the property, sinks into the ground maybe to be absorbed by tree roots, than if water gushes down from the roof, across the concrete, into the gutter and, where we live, into the bay. Permeable concrete is a potential answer to this, but Mr. Mouse are considering a redesign of the driveway and removal of more concrete in the future, so the right choice seemed to be urbanite.

Urbanite, usually from jack-hammered pieces of concrete, has been in use in the landscaping trade for several years and I had seen some attractive patios and walls, so I was hopeful we could succeed in finding an attractive, permeable solution to the concrete problem.

We were lucky that our general contractor picked a concrete specialist who had a very large concrete saw (the size of a wheelbarrow) and he allowed me to choose the size and shape of the pieces of concrete. We started with an area of about 72 inched width, and I had the pieces cut once along the middle and 20 inches wide, kind of like this (a few irregular pieces resulted as well).

The concrete contractor left, and we had a stack of fairly large and heavy blocks. 

I got in touch with my garden designer Chris Todd for the next step. We wanted to lay out the concrete pieces in a way to got us better permeability so we needed spaces. 

We decided to change the orientation of the pieces as a first step. This allowed a gap of about 2 inches between the pieces, plus room on the side. Problem was that it looked boring, so we played with the design a little more, going back and forth and finally coming up with something pleasing.

This would require a few additional cuts, but I had already called Larry, who works for Landmark Landscapes. The company had installed both my front and back garden, and I had been impressed by their great work, timely delivery, and fair price and was looking forward to having them do my small project. The day the work started was fairly wet, but Larry and Carlos set to work preparing the area. They removed some soil, which was later used to elevate the new hedge, and prepared the area with base rock. Preparation is important so the concrete pieces can be put down flat. The two men then set to work putting the pieces in place. I was very impressed how fast they worked, and liked what I saw.

Larry was careful to align everything perfectly, and we were glad to find that our plan was accurate and the pieces of the puzzle fit together. The side, which was angled, required some extra work, but eventually all the pieces were in place. The next step was filling the gaps with pebbles or other materials. I was tempted to get some small pebbles, but eventually decided to go the green route and buy some bags of tumbled glass from Building REsources in San Francisco. Building REsources is worth their own post. I very much enjoyed the different tumbled materials they offered and liked the other reuse garden and house materials they had for sale. For my "pebbles" I could have chosen dishes, traffic light glass, or other broken glass. But the tumbled tempered glass, mostly from old shower doors, was the most uniform in size and color and I loved the sea-glass feel.

I only got my glass a few days before the garden tour, but it was easy to fill the gaps with the glass. All the children who came to the garden very much enjoyed the glass. We kept a small container at the sign-in desk so they could feel it and maybe even take home a piece.

And now, of course, I'm hoping that these kids will ask their parents to put in an urbanite path, and fill it with the magical glass.

A post about a giant penis for Mother's Day? What am I thinking!

In my last post I wrote about a lovely day gardening with my younger daughter, Mrs. Squirrel of Boulder Creek, who is soon to become a mother herself. I promised to tell you more about the fate of a certain blossom, seen below right on the ground, in this photo, as we were leaving for our post-garden-day walk:


Yes, it's the Pacific banana slug (Ariolimax columbianus) , found in damp coastal forests from Alaska to Santa Cruz county, with scattered populations as far south as San Diego county. Here it's doing what it does best - consuming detritus found on the forest floor. You can see it opening its little mouth in this image:

And in the next - you can see its mouth is closed, chomping on the petal. You can also see its breathing hole or pneumostome (on the lower side in the picture), leading to its single lung. (Keep this image of the chomping mouth in mind as you read later in this post...)

Isn't that cool! It had totally eaten the blossom in a few minutes. From Wikipedia:

Banana slugs are detritivores, or decomposers. They process leaves, animal droppings, and dead plant material, and then recycle them into soil humus. They seem to have a fondness for mushrooms, and they spread seeds and spores when they eat, and excrete a nitrogen rich fertilizer. Thus they are an important aspect of the ecosystem.

And by the way, I also read that they do not generally eat your garden plants - leaving that to the non-native European Black Garden slugs.

No, banana slugs are good for the environment. But that's not all. Warning - adult content follows!


Banana slugs are hermaphrodites, and they have penises about as long as their body! You can find this well attested to on various pages such as the following:

Some folks think that there is only one [species], A. columbianus, throughout the range; others claim the presence of a second, A. dolichyphallus. A definitive answer will be a long time coming.

Dolichyphallus translates as "giant penis", and the slugs we know and love definitely live up to it. Banana slug penises have evolved to be almost as long as their bodies. When you consider that the average banana slug is 6 - 8 inches long, this endowment is impressive even by our standards. While having a big member to show off before mating may be a plus when trying to get the attention of that special slimer, there are drawbacks.

Since slugs are hermaphrodites, each partner's wiener must fit into the other's genital opening. This makes choosing a mate of equal size a must. Before actually getting down to it, both partners check out each other's equipment - no slug can ever be accused of rape, because both partners must present their plumbing before anything else happens. If either slug miscalculates, it may get its wanker stuck during actual copulation and be unable to pull out afterward. When this happens, the unstuck partner bites off the stuck one's slughood - scientists call this "apophallation", though "Bobbitization" may have more of a ring in popular circles.

The text above is from a 1995 article, Slimes of Passion, published in a Santa Cruz paper - which accounts for the dated "Bobbit" reference! But it is actually a decent article and you can learn more about slug slime and other interesting aspects of the sluggish existence there.

Sammy the Slug is also the mascot of U.C. Santa Cruz, where my older daughter attended college.


Originally adopted informally to show the Santa Cruz students' anti-competitive attitude towards college sports, I think spectators now yell "Go Slugs" with the same enthusiasm as any other team followers. I wonder how many of them know about their mascot's hidden assets - I certainly didn't when I began writing this post!

Well, er, Happy Mother's Day!