Balloon Flower Bud

This is the bud for the balloon flower. It starts out small, gets bigger and finally springs open like the flower in the following post.

Where I Was

May 1979. I can still feel the freezing cold of the water as I walked through the stream to the dunes. The warmth of the sun and the chill of the morning breeze. The quietness broken only by the occasional laughter and voices of other visitors. It was a time of change. One stage of life ending and another beginning. A return to civilian life after 9 1/2 years in the Navy.

I purchased a postcard at the gift shop that I still have posted on the bulletin board next to my computer. It included a few words written by Ann Zwinger ". . . even in winter there is the promise of spring. . . The white of snow becomes the white of summer clouds. . . part of each season is contained in every other."

Anyone care to venture a guess as to where this picture was taken? A little hint, western United States ;-)

Update May 21, .. 11:00 a.m

Craig Manson of Geneablogie fame has correctly identified the above scene as the Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve. Located in the southwest corner of Colorado, it is an amazing area. It's on my list of places to visit, again. Someday.

Some incredibly nice photographs:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/resources/photos_dunes.htm

Children's artwork inspired by the dunes:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/artwork.htm

Links to more photographs:
http://www.nps.gov/archive/grsa/resources/photos.htm

There are a lot of other nice websites, just do a search for Great Sand Dunes...

Tekapo to Mount John

Our longest walk in N Z so far. About 10 km - up to the hill top Observatory and back the longer gentler way. We followed instructions from a local leaflet.











The only map we needed on a fine summer day was the one in the picture. The tracks are clear, well signed when they diverge, and easy to walk along. I had the photo on my camera - just in case!

ready for action

not as steep as the Trig Track on Kapiti Island

out of the woods

welcome . . .

telescopes

toposcope

Lake Tekapo

Heights above sea level




Lake Tekapo: 710m

Mount John 1043m




So - 333m of ascent - must be around 1000ft.




Deepest point of Lake 120m

Brevet Season

Over the weekend, local bike shop and cycling club Ride Studio Cafe hosted a group ride followed by a Brevet Season Kick-Off Party that lasted well into the night. Organised by the RSC and cycling legends The Blayleys, this event included food, drink, a bike show, and an information session about various aspects of randonneuring.





This event struck me as significant on a number of levels. It was a coming together of the worlds of road racing, randonneuring and casual cycling, which rarely happens in other communities. It also showed just how much local interest there is in randonneuring. The room was absolutely packed and by the time things got started it was almost impossible to move. No one expected such a turnout.






Though many beautiful and unusual bicycles were brought in for the bike show and contest, it was impossible to photograph them due to their sheer proximity to one another. Frames bearing the marks of Weigle, Vanilla, ANT, Rawland, Rivendell, Sketchy, Gunnar and Seven were a common sight, as were refurbished vintage mystery frames. The glitter of hammered fenders set the room aglow. Saddlebags swayed to the soft French music that played in the background. Map sleeves glistened. Leather saddles of at least 4 different makes flaunted their rivets and cut-outs.Light and heavy, racy and sedate, with integrated lighting and without, rando bikes filled the entire room and spilled outside. Waist-deep in a sea of lovely bikes, yet unable to photograph them... oh how I suffered! The winners of the bike contest were a stunningly crafted JP Weigle, a refurbished vintage Raleigh, and a customised Seven rando bike (this one).






Last year it took me a while to understand what randonneuring really was, and I suspect many readers might like to have it explained. French in origin, randonneuring is defined as a "noncompetitive, timed, endurance cycling sport." It involves riding in organised long distance events, with the goal to finish within a specific time frame. The rides are unsupported (no van with supplies and mechanical help to follow riders around) and take place regardless of weather conditions. Control points along the way ensure participants cover the entire route.




Official randonneuring events (aka randonnées) are sanctioned internationally by the Audax Club Parisien and in the US by Randonneurs USA. Our local organisation here in Boston isthe New England Randonneurs (NER).




The shortest type ofrandonnée (petiterandonnée?)is called the Populaire, and it is 100km - a metric century. But the prototypical randonnées are the brevets - rides 200km or longer. Local organisations will usually host a brevet series starting in spring, consisting of 200km, 300km, 400km and 600km rides spread out through the season. Hence, the Brevet Season.




Other types ofrandonnéesinclude the Flèche (a 24 hour team event, described very nicely here), and the so-called granderandonnées, the most famous of which is the 1200km Paris-Brest-Paris(for some time there was a local granderandonnéeBoston-Montreal-Boston, but sadly it appears to have been discontinued). The schedule for all the local randonnées this season is postedhere.






A number of well known local randonneurs attended the Brevet Kick-Off Party, and it was a pleasure to see them in person.






It was particularly excited to spot Emily O'Brien - a woman known for riding long distance on fixed gear, eating pickles, and making custom bicycle bags named after pickles.





I also finally met a few people whom I'd previously only corresponded with - including Cris C., who arrived on his well-loved ANT.





Presentations were given byMelinda Lyon of the New England Randonneurs, Pamela Blalock, andMatt Roy of MM Racing. Matt was at a disadvantage in that he went on last and it was already quite late. But I am so glad I stayed for his presentation, because he is an extremely engaging and charismatic speaker. At 10pm, Matt's talk made me want to immediately get up and ride a few hundred miles - whilst meticulously following his instructions of course.





While I find the idea of randonneuring exciting and romantic, I doubt that I can actually do it. The routes are hilly and challenging, and the people who do these things are extremely strong riders, no matter how much they might downplay it in conversation. Randonneurs tend to make a point of being inclusive and assuring others that "anyone can do it," and they honestly believe it. They also have a habit of describing rides in a way that makes it seem all about the scenery and camaraderie, conveniently leaving out the part about it being difficult! But in fact it is very difficult, and I am not a sufficiently strong cyclist at this stage. It is also a must that participants be able to fix their own mechanical problems, since there is no support. While I have the know-how, I cannot physically work on my bike and that presents a problem. Finally - and I hate to say this, but it's true - I am simply not committed enough. Though I ride a lot, I do it on my own time instead of planning my life around rides that take place on specific dates. When push comes to shove, personal things have priority and in the past it has been very difficult for me to commit to organised cycling events. For serious randonneurs, their lives basically revolve around the brevet season, as a great deal of commitment is required to both take part in and train for the events.



Some day I would like to take part in a brevet (or a flèche - those sound like so much fun!), and I certainly do not mean to discourage others from doing it. It's just that there has been such a tendency to romanticise randonneuring and to contrast it with racing, that the popular image of the activity does not, in my opinion, adequately reflect how challenging and demanding it actually is. It's good to go into something with realistic expectations.






As you can see, the Brevet Season Kick-Off Event has given me a lot to think about. More than anything, I am still overwhelmed by how significant it felt to be there. We could practically feel a new era dawning as more and more people filled the room (several of us mentioned that independently so I know it wasn't just my overactive imagination!). While it doesn't mean that the local population will now rush en masse to join the New England Randonneurs (though it's a great idea to support them), I do think it's indicative of a growing interest in a particular type of cycling: long rides on bikes that are fast yet practical, and without an overt competitive element. It's the kind of cycling I like best so far, and I appreciate that it is so well supported locally. More low-light pictures of the event here!

Further adventures in bad bird photography

Once again, my digiscoping skills leave a lot to be desired.



Enough, though, to say about our new yard bird: "Yep, that's a Wigeon!" (American Wigeon, Anas americana.)

When I first spotted him, I thought the Hooded Mergansers had finally returned. (We haven't seen them all season, and usually they've arrived by Thanksgiving.) But a new yard bird is more exciting, even if he didn't stay long.

According to the Cornell birds site, they're a species that's increasing. (They don't say why.) I haven't watched enough Wigeons to say whether its nervous-seeming behavior was normal, or whether this individual was just anxious at being alone. He darted this way and that, in an unsettled fashion, mostly in areas where the water was too deep for dabbling.

Judging by range maps, not a lot of Wigeons winter near here, though I've seen them several times at Wheeler Wildlife Refuge. Wheeler's bird list calls them "abundant". Oh boy, is that right - I remember once searching through what seemed like a million little green baldpates before finding the one little brown one belonging to the Eurasion Wigeon vagrant in the crowd. Then after moving the scope, I never found him again.

While searching for range maps, I came across this site that has transmitters tracking Wigeons. Fascinating! Such a high mortality rate though, so sad. I don't know why I was so surprised that the survivors all returned to the same North Carolina refuge they started from, but I was.

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P.S. Bonus points if you know why this bird makes me think of pineapples.

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Update:
In other birding news, it's almost an all-feathered NFL playoff! The Charger-Steelers game isn't over yet, but no birds there anyway. The others teams in the semi-finals though, will be the Philadelphia Eagles, the Baltimore Ravens, and the Arizona Cardinals. Or as we like to call them, the Arizona Pyrrhuloxias. (They don't actually have cardinals in Arizona, but the Pyrrhuloxia, which does live there, is a close cousin.)

Cottontail Rabbit

I finally got a photo of the cottontail rabbit in our little patch of grass. I think this is the same rabbit wat that was in the other photo when it was hiding in the sand. I frequently see it eating grass but usually it hops away to go under the hay shed where I can't see it. It knows where it is safe. The grassy spot is right beside the hay shed. I think this may be a female rabbit as we always have a female that has her babies under the shed each summer. It couldn't have been the same rabbit all these years but I would think it might be a daughter or granddaughter. What I would really like to get is a photo of a rabbit eating hay with one of the horses. Again I see them doing it but I'm never close enought to get a photo or just don't have the camera with me.

Roe-Dee-Oh :: Mutton Busting and Barrell Racing

Sunday, August 21st - - One of the events for kids (ages 4-7) was called Mutton Busting, which was basically setting a kid on the back of sheep and letting them run. It was quite funny. Some of them barely got out of the gate before falling off but the one below managed to hold on for quite a while and was a real crowd-pleaser.







The Barrel Racing event allowed the women to show off their riding ability as well as the speed and agility of their beautiful horses.

Unique visitor at Grand Portage State Park

We had a unique visitor today at the state park where I work. It was a rather chilly and blustery day, but that did not seem to deter this intrepid little woodpecker. He spent most of the afternoon pecking at the trunk of a fallen Spruce tree. He also apparently was not bothered by my presence, as I was only about 10 feet away from him when I made this picture. My first thought was that it was a Black-backed Woodpecker, but I have since been corrected and am told that it is an American Three-toed Woodpecker. Whatever he is, he sure was a pretty little bird and was a lot of fun to watch!

Stormy Weather

After considerable thought regarding my options, I decided to head south again, to southern Arizona and revisit Chiricahua National Monument. I had some unfinished business there involving several trails and I (perhaps somewhat foolishly) thought that it would be warmer there. The days were nice at the Grand Canyon and in northern Arizona but the nights were still a little cool for comfort.

Returning to Holbrook, I turned south onto Arizona 77, which takes you through the towns of Snowflake and Show Low. Noticing that there was a scenic highway “sort of” on my way I continued east on Arizona 260 then picked up U.S. 180/191 south through the White Mountains. It was an absolutely beautiful drive, and I highly recommend it, but only if you aren't in a hurry, aren't easily excited and you have a great deal of patience. Whew! I'll just say that I was very happy when I got through those mountains!

The weather had taken a turn – from a beautiful day with blue skies and sunshine to just plain weird looking. It was a hazy-foggy mix with a little sunshine penetrating the gloom. I decided to stop at Roper Lake State Park, a few miles south of Safford on U.S. 191. As I pulled into the registration booth it started to rain, poured down, but just for a minute.

About an hour later this appeared to the west (click on image to view a larger version):

With the dark clouds came strong winds, rain and snow.

A close-up view of the mountains beneath those big gray clouds. This particular storm passed by quickly. But other storms and more wind came again during the night. It was a very restless night!

In the morning we were greeted with sunshine, blue skies, and somewhat cooler temperatures. As I headed a few miles south toward Willcox and Chiricahua, I wondered what more Mother Nature could bring my way.

The Gardener's Year

Last year I noted that that a book called The Gardener’s Year by Karel Čapek was one of the recommended books at the Zanthan Gardens site of M. Sinclair Stevens. When I saw a copy on sale last fall, I was delighted, and then was delighted a second time when it became the March selection for the Garden Bloggers’ Book Club.

The edition I bought is part of the Modern Library Gardening Series, published in .., with an introduction to the series by Michael Pollan, and a forward by New York Times writer Verlyn Klinkenborg. This forward has biographical information about Karel Čapek, and a note that the pronunciation of Čapek is chop-uk, which I’m trying to remember. I found this quote via D.G. Jerz:

Čapek's obituary in Newsweek (January 2, 1939) said of the play R.U.R.: "Although he believed it the least interesting of all his works, it brought him greatest fame."

In .., the play R.U.R. is till famous and read by students of drama, but doesn’t it seem as if this little volume of garden philosophy has a wider readership? Perhaps Karel Čapek would be amused at that.

The Gardener’s Year was written in the Czech language and was first published in 1929, then in 1931 was printed in an English translation. 1929! That’s 78 years ago, but its descriptions of ridiculous, obsessed, yet still hopeful plant people sound like gardeners in the present, even though there have been changes in gardening over the decades. We still take the weather personally, forget what we’ve planted, buy too many plants, use the feasts of saints as days for planting crops, and struggle with garden technology – and we garden bloggers are all bonding with the author over our still unmanageable garden hoses.

Josef Čapek, the author’s brother, drew the whimsical illustrations, so full of wishful thinking, with winged gardeners suspended over the flowerbeds. I don’t think we’d love the book quite so much without the drawings! When Josef caught the Czech gardeners in action, the only women seem to be a couple of flappers mowing the lawn in dresses and heels. Was this really true at that time and place, I wonder? Did women not garden? Perhaps using men was a way to avoid indelicacy in the illustrations, so that Josef did not have to draw females astraddle rock gardens with rump in the air.

For me one of the most amazing and endearing aspects of Karel Čapek’s writing was the specific way he spoke about plants and soil. He doesn’t give you three names and then add ‘etc.’ His lists tumble on, his similes stretch for paragraphs and the descriptions are complete rather than suggestive, as when he speaks of of cactus:
There are cacti just like porcupines, cucumbers, marrows, candlesticks, jugs, priests’ caps, snakes’ nests; they are covered with scales, teats, tufts of hair, claws, warts, bayonets, yataghans and stars; they are bulky and lanky, spiked like a regiment of lancers, sharp like a column brandishing swords, swollen, stringy, and wrinkled, pock-marked, bearded, peevish, morose, thorny like abatis, woven like a basket, looking like excrescenses, animals and arms; the most masculine of all plants which were created on the third day, bearing seed according to their kind.[I had to look up Yataghans and abatis – how about you?]

The military references seem appropriate in hindsight, since Karel Čapek was only in his forties when he died, departing as the Nazis took over his land. For a heartbroken man so in love with soil, with earth, with humus, he may not have minded the leaving. As I read those passages on soil, it occurred to me that a few years after Karel Čapek’s death, another man was born with the same kind of passion for soil. And I kept imagining our John Dromgoole and Karel Čapek in conversation, spreading the word that you shouldn’t feed the plants, you should feed the soil!

Spring at Pancake Bay

This is one of my favorite shots from Memorial weekend. Taken on Sunday evening, there were some really nice clouds at sunset that night. After the sun went down we could hear thunder rumbling in the distance and as darkness fell over the lake a nice little lightning show was visible out on the horizon. After the two previous evenings which were very dismal shooting conditions (rain and gray, cloudy skies), Sunday evening more than made up for it with some of the most spectacular spring sunset clouds I've ever seen. The island on the left is called Pancake Island, and the one in the distance is called Blueberry Island. My buddy Roger refers to them as "The Breakfast Islands" (think blueberry pancakes!).

Life's a ditch

There is a ditch in here somewhere.

But it's clogged with trees, sediment, and years of the neighbors' trash, so when it rains heavily our driveway washes out.



The previous tenants told us that the county worked the road for them, but in our moment of need it was pronounced a private road. All my "but the water is coming from your county road" reasoning did not prevail.



This was the other problem. A storm had washed some debris and huge dead trees to rest against some very large culverts. It did not enter our minds that industrious beavers would see this as a gift, and make the situation even worse.

But they did, and the neighbor's property began to flood. (It was putting some of my favorite wildflowers underwater too!)




Ahh.




Ahhhhhh. I feel better now.

When backhoe work starts at $70 an hour, it's easy to believe that time is money.

"He's been here $140 and it seems like he's just started," I fretted.

I was gone running errands for $210.

"My husband will be home in about $175," I realized at one point.

Actually we feel lucky to have had both problems fixed in just under ten hours. It could have been a lot worse.

Beauty and the Beast

Two recent visitors:

A Great Egret (Ardea alba)







and two Black Vultures (Coragyps atratus)




The Black Vulture isn't really a beast of course. He's just got an image problem.

"Hey, compared to the Turkey Vulture, I'm a beauty queen!"

Actually I think they're both beauties. We see Turkey Vultures a lot more than Black Vultures, so I was tickled to see these guys perched in a dead tree last week on a foggy morning.

The Great Egret has decided that he likes our fishing hole and has been hanging around for the past week, getting used to us. The Great Blue Heron is the only one not happy about that.

He seems to think he's got exclusive fishing rights, and intimidates the Great Egret with lots of squawking and flapping. "Heron fight! Heron fight!"