High winds shake the ponderosas. Golden pollen pours from male cones. Thunder growls above lava fields. Skies frown in nimbus clouds that lumber in from the west.
Pow! Lightning. Thunder buffaloes toward our home. Hail stomps the tender green plants. Ice plinks off our roof. Pace quickens. The full herd rumbles in a staccato of flying hooves. Flayed leaves.
Pollen dusts the passage. Silence. Not over yet. Treetops shimmy. Limbs flounder. Lightning strobes. Hail punctures. Rain floods. A great crescendo of pounding, surging, rushing, chorusing sound overtakes every niche of refuge.
One raven streaks by. Quiet. The air clears. Sunshine winks. Pine siskins ruffle wet feathers. A western tanager shines like an exotic fruit gusting in from the tropics. I pick up a marble-sized hail stone from the rubble. Not white. Flecked in gold.

The day began with a suspicious haze creeping through pines. Smoke? The sulphury hue is wrong. No wind. Breathe the dust of renewal. Like fine ash , the pollen filters through screen windows onto every surface in our house.
Before the hint of storm in the sleepy blue eye of morning, I trace the fog to its source. Study a cluster of male cones. Startled. For a moment, I’m looking at a maroon starfish with 19 arms radiating up from a tide pool of green needles. Each cone scale harbors a precious sack of pollen, and each grain possesses a pair of miniscule air bladders to balloon in the air as long and far as possible.

Flick the cone. Pooof! Magic steams away. So what is going on? Many ponderosas are bursting with male and female cones in a jubilance that reaches this level only every few years. The male staminate cones are a short-lived, late spring phenomenon. The female or ovulate cones grow higher up, a strategy to avoid pollination from a male cone of the same tree.
While the male cones remind me of starfish, the female scales are sea urchin-like, but not prickly. Each slightly open scale is a seductive invitation for pollen to tickle her sticky fluid that she absorbs to draw the grains deep to the base of the scale. Here, two ovules await pollination. When her whole cone is filled with the pleasure of pollen, her scales seal tight. The protected seeds grow in cones that will ripen a year and a half later.

This morning, I walk through our backyard forest of pines to the lava shore. The air is shorn clean. The sky a forget-me-not blue. Canyon wren song flutes down from the rocks. The forest floor is laced in green needles. Single male pollen cones curl like caterpillars.
Climbing up on basalt rocks patterned in lichen, I can stand higher to a nearby pine, close enough to inspect a fresh female cone. Her sticky ooze glitters in the brilliance of after-storm. The cone is the size and color of a ripe raspberry. Fingers on the succulent cone, I touch the promise of a sky-scraping tree that dances to hooves of hail.
Note: Sneezing with allergies? Fortunately, pine pollen is not the reason. Want to know more about ponderosa pines from a lyrical writer and dear friend? Find Graced by Pines, by Alexandra Murphy.






Cool report … no hail here in Boise last night just rain, thunder and lightening. It is always crazy to watch the yellow gold pollen clouds roll down a street and neighborhood. I have had white vehicles turn to yellow ones. May the ponderosa pollen roll on for many more years.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We got a raucous hailstorm with high winds, close lightning strikes here in LaGrande too. Going out mow to try to find poofy pollen flick, like Wes did.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love that you are going to go flick a pollen-laden cone!
LikeLike
Loved this! I am such a fan of your sensual naturalist writing styleð
I also learned a lot from this short read. I had wondered if the male pine cones on the ponderosas in the neighborhood looked particularly robust and purpley this year or if it was just my imagination. Never having lived in a pine forest before, I did not know there were exceptional tree sex years!
And yes, my hollyhock leaves were also thrashed by the hail, but oh those clever lupines, so well adapted to the possible meadow ravages. I had not though about that component of their design elements before.
I too loved the storm and went out afterwards to see its work and breathe the fresh scent filled air.
I felt so grateful to be living in the northwest! Looking forward to our next rendezvous.
On Sun, May 31, 2020 at 12:20 PM Kingfisher Journey- Marina Richie wrote:
> Marina Richie posted: ” High winds shake the ponderosas. Golden pollen > pours from male cones. Thunder growls above lava fields. Skies frown in > nimbus clouds that lumber in from the west. Pow! Lightning. Thunder > buffaloes toward our home. Hail stomps the tender green plants. ” >
LikeLiked by 1 person
That was some storm! Nice descriptions of the ponderosa pines. Sorry about your hollyhocks.
LikeLike