The leaves have come off.
-- What views!
On one of the first really cold nights (~40), with not a breath of wind, leaves fell all night. It was a steady fall, and it became, for me, the trees' footsteps. I've been hearing lots of other footsteps - deer, raccoon, possum, squirrel, rabbit - in the night and naming them. And as I heard this new rustling sound and rhythm in the night, my sleepy brain thought "oh, tree".
Thermometers are one way to listen to tree footsteps- a soft, slow shuffle all night long. It doesn't sound like the tree is in a hurry to get anywhere. Squirrels are another way trees walk. In the morning, they make trees sound like they've been drinking all night, and are coming home stumbling, lurching, tripping.
Leaves-off means you have more of a view. I can see farther through the tree tops to the next hill over, as I expected to, but I can also see more of the hill I'm on. I can see the lay of the land. And I'm realizing the natural hill I thought I was climbing is actually a manmade hill of quarried rock in more places than I thought. I'm also seeing that people dug trenches as well. These appear to be 10 to 50 yards long, and parallel to the hillside (not going from top to bottom, but staying on the same level). Someone cut the limestone down about 3 feet and piled it downhill in these long channels about 5 feet high, if you stand in the ditch. The only thing I can think it would be is water capture. And, of course, I'm seeing many more of them now.
I'm getting the idea this land has been worked extensively by man. What we are preserving is mainly post 1940 growth. The junipers growing up through the quarry rubble are no shorter (therefore no younger?) than others are on land that looks natural/undisturbed.
Notes from the hikes the weekend:
The ruby crown kinglet is the tiny bird I've been hearing/seeing. It's call sounds like a typewriter, as Bill so memorably (and datedly) put it. An angry electric typewriter.
Apparently, both winged and non-winged elms can have wings when they're young. How annoyingly cross-category of them. The wings are like one-dimensional bark growing off the stems parallel, so they form long lines. They only come out from the stem about half an inch, and are layered in different color browns. Books describe them as "corky". I haven't learned yet why they're there.
After a summer of looking for cochineal beetles on the prickly pear, they are out in force now - about 40% of the pears we see have at least one paddle covered in them.
And Patricia found one (last?) cedar sage blooming!
Monday, December 10, 2012
The View
View from the south eastern edge of the Balcones Escarpment, looking west over the Edwards Plateau.
The end is rough - it's only my second movie with the camera and I don't know how to end it. But, fortuitously (?), it caught the sound of the Formula 1 helicopters flying by.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Red December
The cedar sage has finally stopped producing flowers. I didn't see a single bloom this weekend. And many of the leaves were turning purple.
The flame leaf sumac is stunningly beautiful. The red oaks, too - they are truly red now. Even the green grasses are turning red. Christmas colors.
Not, however, Christmas temperatures. I put up my decorations this weekend - the ceiling fan was on, and I was wearing shorts and drinking cold beer. Ug. Just ug. Forget a white christmas. I'd settle for a sweater christmas.
There's a new yellow flower that's just bloomed along the road. No pic yet, but I wanted to mention that it showed up in late November. It's a much paler yellow than the yellow-orange of the golden eye/crown beard. More like a tall buttercup. And I only see it along the road - not in the forest, even the open places that get more light.
Speaking of open places - the understory is noticeably cleared out. Leaves have fallen off shrubs and vines. Flower stalks and grass leaves are dying off. All the inland sea oats have fallen to the ground - Little V seeds - and no longer catch the sun, the way they did in October (pic). And vistas are opening up. I can stop on the lake path several times and still spy the heron fishing.
And I can see the hill doesn't descend smoothly - the balcones part of the Balcones Escarpment is visible now. Ah - I see now that 10 feet off the path, there's a 10 foot drop. I'm beginning to see the contour lines - Ah! That levels's the 600 foot line!
The flame leaf sumac is stunningly beautiful. The red oaks, too - they are truly red now. Even the green grasses are turning red. Christmas colors.
Not, however, Christmas temperatures. I put up my decorations this weekend - the ceiling fan was on, and I was wearing shorts and drinking cold beer. Ug. Just ug. Forget a white christmas. I'd settle for a sweater christmas.
There's a new yellow flower that's just bloomed along the road. No pic yet, but I wanted to mention that it showed up in late November. It's a much paler yellow than the yellow-orange of the golden eye/crown beard. More like a tall buttercup. And I only see it along the road - not in the forest, even the open places that get more light.
Speaking of open places - the understory is noticeably cleared out. Leaves have fallen off shrubs and vines. Flower stalks and grass leaves are dying off. All the inland sea oats have fallen to the ground - Little V seeds - and no longer catch the sun, the way they did in October (pic). And vistas are opening up. I can stop on the lake path several times and still spy the heron fishing. And I can see the hill doesn't descend smoothly - the balcones part of the Balcones Escarpment is visible now. Ah - I see now that 10 feet off the path, there's a 10 foot drop. I'm beginning to see the contour lines - Ah! That levels's the 600 foot line!
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Hooters
In my woods live my owls.
The Great Horned Owl for sure. Perhaps the American Barn Owl. And either the Eastern or Western Screech Owl.
The Great Horned Owl
This guy is very large - I have a personal measurement unit: it's three times the size of a Sweet Hen. Three times the size of my cat, that is. My former cat, that is. My cat which is now a Great Horned Owl (GH).
According to an owl book, it likes "second growth, open woodlands, scrub with rocky areas". That describes BL to a T. It eats mammals (rabbits, cats, voles, rats) and birds, reptiles (lizards, gekkos), amphibians (frogs, toads), spiders and insects.
As with almost all owls, the females are larger than the males. And they live upwards of 28 years. So I hope mine is around for awhile.
The Hoot: Owls don't open their bills when they call. Instead, their whole body gets into it. Their throat balloons out - and many owls have white throats to catch the attention of other owls. The GH leans forward with tail up on each syllable. They are deep, booming hoos, usually between 3 and 5. And each has their own unique call of syllables, pitch, timbre, etc.
The American Barn Owl
I haven't seen this one yet, but it's likely to be here. It prefers open countryside with sparse trees, so perhaps BL is too thick with trees for it. It's food sure is here, though - voles, rats, mice, bats.
It's call is a drawn out tremulous screech.
Speaking of screeches...
There is either an Eastern or Western screech owl here as well. (The photos show a brown eastern and grey western, but either species can vary between brown and grey.)
Their call does sound like a woman screaming far away. And it was as unmistakeable to me as the coyotes was from a dogs the first time I heard it. The owl books describes the Eastern call as a "toad-like quavering trill lasting 3-5 seconds, ends abruptly, repeats". The Western is a "short trill, followed immediately by a longer one", rising then falling again in pitch. Annoyingly, I can't tell which call I'm hearing, even with these descriptions.
These are smaller than the GH - about Sweet Hen size. The first one came to visit just after Sweet Hen became the GH. They eat the same, but smaller things - mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects.
It was on a juniper branch just about 10 feet from me and my house. I went out to take a look. It just stared back at me. It must not have been alarmed at me, since it didn't adopt the tall-thin stance that so many owls do when threatened. (Sorry- I just spent 5 minutes trying to find a photo of this.. but apparently everyone who photographs owls never make them feel threatened.)
They live a little less as well - only about 20 years for the Eastern and only about 12 years for the Western. (In general, the bigger the owl, the longer it lives.)
The Great Horned Owl for sure. Perhaps the American Barn Owl. And either the Eastern or Western Screech Owl.
The Great Horned Owl
According to an owl book, it likes "second growth, open woodlands, scrub with rocky areas". That describes BL to a T. It eats mammals (rabbits, cats, voles, rats) and birds, reptiles (lizards, gekkos), amphibians (frogs, toads), spiders and insects.
As with almost all owls, the females are larger than the males. And they live upwards of 28 years. So I hope mine is around for awhile.
The Hoot: Owls don't open their bills when they call. Instead, their whole body gets into it. Their throat balloons out - and many owls have white throats to catch the attention of other owls. The GH leans forward with tail up on each syllable. They are deep, booming hoos, usually between 3 and 5. And each has their own unique call of syllables, pitch, timbre, etc.
I haven't seen this one yet, but it's likely to be here. It prefers open countryside with sparse trees, so perhaps BL is too thick with trees for it. It's food sure is here, though - voles, rats, mice, bats.
It's call is a drawn out tremulous screech.
Speaking of screeches...
There is either an Eastern or Western screech owl here as well. (The photos show a brown eastern and grey western, but either species can vary between brown and grey.)
Their call does sound like a woman screaming far away. And it was as unmistakeable to me as the coyotes was from a dogs the first time I heard it. The owl books describes the Eastern call as a "toad-like quavering trill lasting 3-5 seconds, ends abruptly, repeats". The Western is a "short trill, followed immediately by a longer one", rising then falling again in pitch. Annoyingly, I can't tell which call I'm hearing, even with these descriptions.
These are smaller than the GH - about Sweet Hen size. The first one came to visit just after Sweet Hen became the GH. They eat the same, but smaller things - mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects.
It was on a juniper branch just about 10 feet from me and my house. I went out to take a look. It just stared back at me. It must not have been alarmed at me, since it didn't adopt the tall-thin stance that so many owls do when threatened. (Sorry- I just spent 5 minutes trying to find a photo of this.. but apparently everyone who photographs owls never make them feel threatened.)
They live a little less as well - only about 20 years for the Eastern and only about 12 years for the Western. (In general, the bigger the owl, the longer it lives.)
Friday, November 16, 2012
They're back!
Last night, the night callers were back! My theory now is that their calling is temperature related. I went to bed later than usual two nights ago, when it was so silent. Last night, I went to bed at my usual (read obscenely-early-for-most-people) time. And the callers were at it. When I woke up later in the night, there was silence once more. So my first idea of them huddling together for warmth was closer to the truth. Besides, I'm sure they're smart enough not to have gone downtown for a drink on F1 weekend.
On a completely unrelated note, if you have kittens, don't leave your earrings on the nightstand and expect to see them in the morning. Obligatory cute kitten pic. Obligatory earring shopping this weekend.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Silent Falls
The cold came two nights ago. Yesterday morning, two great horned owls hooted to each other across warbler canyon. I say 'to' each other on purpose. They usually hoot 'at' each other. One hoots. Then several seconds later, the other hoots back. And so on. I read that most hooting is by the males to claim or assert territory. If they don't hear a hoot back, they've got unclaimed/undisputed territory. Since I moved in there's been one owl that hoots from my house. Most of the time, there has been no return hoot. In the last month, there have been a few days with a return hoot from the other side of the canyon. They get in a hooting match, and eventually the far hooter hoots no more. (Perhaps he got hungry or bored and went to Hooters?)
Yesterday morning was different. Neither of the 2 owls was my usual owl (owls have unique calls). The one at my house called, and one answered from across the canyon. Call and response went on as usual for awhile. What was not usual was that the response owl got closer every time. Once it was at my house, the 2 of them were hooting on top of each other (literally, but I'm assuming also the double entendre became reality soon after).
(Hey- it just occurred to me - maybe it was 'my' owl calling, but his mating call is different than his territory call. Makes sense.)
Last night, the second near freezing night, was the first silent night since I've been here in March. Startlingly silent. Loud-hum-in-my-ears silent. No traffic, which was unusual. But what startled me most was the lack of crickets/katydids/frogs calling. (I'm not sure what I'm listening to - but surely it's a combination of these things?) Complete silence. Did they freeze? Are they dead? Or did all their calling work, and now they're huddled with their found loved one to keep warm?
Or did they go out for a drink?
It was so silent, we (my cats and I) could hear the deer nibbling my hibiscus. Usually, I just get the unpleasant surprise in the morning.
I miss that night noise.
Yesterday morning was different. Neither of the 2 owls was my usual owl (owls have unique calls). The one at my house called, and one answered from across the canyon. Call and response went on as usual for awhile. What was not usual was that the response owl got closer every time. Once it was at my house, the 2 of them were hooting on top of each other (literally, but I'm assuming also the double entendre became reality soon after).
(Hey- it just occurred to me - maybe it was 'my' owl calling, but his mating call is different than his territory call. Makes sense.)
Last night, the second near freezing night, was the first silent night since I've been here in March. Startlingly silent. Loud-hum-in-my-ears silent. No traffic, which was unusual. But what startled me most was the lack of crickets/katydids/frogs calling. (I'm not sure what I'm listening to - but surely it's a combination of these things?) Complete silence. Did they freeze? Are they dead? Or did all their calling work, and now they're huddled with their found loved one to keep warm?
Or did they go out for a drink?
It was so silent, we (my cats and I) could hear the deer nibbling my hibiscus. Usually, I just get the unpleasant surprise in the morning.
I miss that night noise.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
First Coyote Sighting
My first coyote sighting began with a squirrel chirping in alarm this morning about 7am. I've heard that often - mostly when they've spotted my cats looking at them. But my cats were both napping on the couch this time. So when they heard the squirrel chirp, they knew it was for some other creature. They instantly rose on the alert, looked out the window, then ran outside. Obviously this was something interesting, so I followed their lead.
Coyote!!! Three of them trotting along. They had called as a pack not more than an hour earlier, before it got light. I've heard them call many times before, though mostly in the early evening to midnight. Now I could see them for the first time. They were darker and bigger than I expected. I'd been told they're like a small dog on long legs. But these looked like german shepherds to me. I've also been told they're solitary, but these three were clearly together. They followed each other on the path and up the hill out of sight. Not once did they pause and look or smell.
Oh, and for cat-lovers who might be concerned - They ran outside into the screened-in porch. They weren't in danger of being breakfast.
Coyote!!! Three of them trotting along. They had called as a pack not more than an hour earlier, before it got light. I've heard them call many times before, though mostly in the early evening to midnight. Now I could see them for the first time. They were darker and bigger than I expected. I'd been told they're like a small dog on long legs. But these looked like german shepherds to me. I've also been told they're solitary, but these three were clearly together. They followed each other on the path and up the hill out of sight. Not once did they pause and look or smell.
Oh, and for cat-lovers who might be concerned - They ran outside into the screened-in porch. They weren't in danger of being breakfast.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Cold A Comin'
Sat - 70 heading to 83, no wind, a few clouds
Sun - more humid, overcast, winds pickingup, 70 heading to 83, then a cold front blows in overnight- no rain, hardly any clouds - just cold and windy
This is my first fall here, so I'm interested in seeing the BLeaves of BL. In October, it was the poison ivy with brilliant yellows then reds. Then the nandina with deep reds. Then the shouting yellow of chinaberry- most leaves/branches of which are gone now in early November. (There was also the ugly turning of redbuds and ash - a sad yellow with brown decaying spots.)
Next up, in late October, the nut trees - buckeyes, pecans and walnuts. Dusty yellows and reds, changing from the interior out that remind me of fireworks.
This trip, the evergreen sumac fruits had turned from green to red. Here's the sequence of flowers to red berries from early October to early November.
Though keep in mind that on any day in Oct/Nov I see bushes in all three stages.
One of my favorite plants to discover in Texas - Turk's cap. Here is the flower in October and the fruit in November.
What I see is that the flower is red, then the fruit first grows green, then develops the red again as it matures. It's red the 2 times it needs the attention of others - flowers ready to polinate and fruits ready to eat and spread the seeds around.
I find the more I know - the more I can name, at least, the more I dismiss what I already know the name of - "Yeah, yeah, more Lindheimer's silk tassle. Silk tassle. Silk tassle. Tassle. tassle. tassle. Geez, it's everywhere." But I see it everywhere, precisely because I know what it looks like, and I can name it.
Saturday, we were told it was the time to see orchids, and we all looked, but we didn't see any. Most likely because we didn't know what to look for. On Sunday, Bill pointed out the Ladies Tresses Orchid right by the path. (Sorry for the unfocused shot)
And then, just a few yards up the path, I saw another one. It was easy- I knew what to look for.
Our brains are fantastic pattern-recognition machines!
Sun - more humid, overcast, winds pickingup, 70 heading to 83, then a cold front blows in overnight- no rain, hardly any clouds - just cold and windy
This is my first fall here, so I'm interested in seeing the BLeaves of BL. In October, it was the poison ivy with brilliant yellows then reds. Then the nandina with deep reds. Then the shouting yellow of chinaberry- most leaves/branches of which are gone now in early November. (There was also the ugly turning of redbuds and ash - a sad yellow with brown decaying spots.)
Next up, in late October, the nut trees - buckeyes, pecans and walnuts. Dusty yellows and reds, changing from the interior out that remind me of fireworks.
This trip, the evergreen sumac fruits had turned from green to red. Here's the sequence of flowers to red berries from early October to early November.
One of my favorite plants to discover in Texas - Turk's cap. Here is the flower in October and the fruit in November.
What I see is that the flower is red, then the fruit first grows green, then develops the red again as it matures. It's red the 2 times it needs the attention of others - flowers ready to polinate and fruits ready to eat and spread the seeds around.
I find the more I know - the more I can name, at least, the more I dismiss what I already know the name of - "Yeah, yeah, more Lindheimer's silk tassle. Silk tassle. Silk tassle. Tassle. tassle. tassle. Geez, it's everywhere." But I see it everywhere, precisely because I know what it looks like, and I can name it.
Saturday, we were told it was the time to see orchids, and we all looked, but we didn't see any. Most likely because we didn't know what to look for. On Sunday, Bill pointed out the Ladies Tresses Orchid right by the path. (Sorry for the unfocused shot)
Our brains are fantastic pattern-recognition machines!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
First Fall
My first fall here, and I'm awaiting bright fall colors. So far, the poison ivy and nandina have not disappointed.
I noticed the poison ivy turning first - brilliant yellows, then reds. And alas, the nandina is truly beautiful!
"Who made this?"
"Um.. nature."
"Mother nature?"
"Yes!"
This, from one of the second graders on the October hikes, as we were crossing the creek. It occurred to me she has never been in an environment that was not man-made - made for man.
"This wasn't made for us, like an amusement park. Nature made it over a long time, and it's here for the creatures that live here, not for us."
She and her friend (best friend, I was informed) spent the hike spotting rocks that looked like pizza slices and using a rock as a cell phone to order more pizza slices. One of the hugely quarried stones became a ginormous pizza slice. We argued over toppings to order. They left some slices with only one bite in them, so that other animals had something to eat. At the end of the hike, the cell phone was still in tow - I only had to gently remind her that everything here should stay here. I hadn't even finished my sentence and she was already throwing it on the ground.
Who knows what they got out of this hike?... All I know is, they had a great time and I had pizza for dinner (and I didn't have to argue with anyone about toppings).
I noticed the poison ivy turning first - brilliant yellows, then reds. And alas, the nandina is truly beautiful!
"Who made this?"
"Um.. nature."
"Mother nature?"
"Yes!"
This, from one of the second graders on the October hikes, as we were crossing the creek. It occurred to me she has never been in an environment that was not man-made - made for man.
"This wasn't made for us, like an amusement park. Nature made it over a long time, and it's here for the creatures that live here, not for us."
She and her friend (best friend, I was informed) spent the hike spotting rocks that looked like pizza slices and using a rock as a cell phone to order more pizza slices. One of the hugely quarried stones became a ginormous pizza slice. We argued over toppings to order. They left some slices with only one bite in them, so that other animals had something to eat. At the end of the hike, the cell phone was still in tow - I only had to gently remind her that everything here should stay here. I hadn't even finished my sentence and she was already throwing it on the ground.
Who knows what they got out of this hike?... All I know is, they had a great time and I had pizza for dinner (and I didn't have to argue with anyone about toppings).
Monday, October 22, 2012
First Solo Hike
Sunday morning I took my first solo hike.
75-80, breezy
Hiking by yourself, rather than at the end of a line of single-file people, leads one to appreciate the trail view up ahead. It made me look ahead more, look farther around more. I'm used to looking down at the path, at the next person's back in front of me. I stopped often and just looked into the trees - and listened.
And after seeing field after field of goldeneye (or is that crown beard?), it made me re-think "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood."
Frost, Texas-style.
At the creek I startled a frog. He peeped at me before plunging into the water to "hide". Now I see him eyeing me from under the water. Should I make him face his fear and finally surface with me still here? Do I have the strength to force the moment to it's climax? Nope.. I lost interest before the frog lost it's breath.
Surprise find this trip - cedar sage with bright pink blossoms, instead of the deep ruby red I've seen so far. (I was going to write "normal" red, but for all I know, pink is "normal" and red is "rare".) This photo, of course, doesn't capture the brilliance. Is it a variant species? Or just a by-product of some soil deficiency right here for this one plant?
Speaking of pink, one redbud has last spring's (?) seed pods hanging from it. Another has new, beautiful blossoms. Central Texas Gardner covered that very topic from a follower this weekend - the extension agent answer: plants take advantage of water and temperature conditions. If they were too stressed to bloom last spring (after our drought last summer/winter), then they might "decide" to try now, after some rainfall, in our balmy fall. I'm glad I caught sight of it.
75-80, breezy
Hiking by yourself, rather than at the end of a line of single-file people, leads one to appreciate the trail view up ahead. It made me look ahead more, look farther around more. I'm used to looking down at the path, at the next person's back in front of me. I stopped often and just looked into the trees - and listened.
And after seeing field after field of goldeneye (or is that crown beard?), it made me re-think "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood."
Frost, Texas-style.
At the creek I startled a frog. He peeped at me before plunging into the water to "hide". Now I see him eyeing me from under the water. Should I make him face his fear and finally surface with me still here? Do I have the strength to force the moment to it's climax? Nope.. I lost interest before the frog lost it's breath.
Surprise find this trip - cedar sage with bright pink blossoms, instead of the deep ruby red I've seen so far. (I was going to write "normal" red, but for all I know, pink is "normal" and red is "rare".) This photo, of course, doesn't capture the brilliance. Is it a variant species? Or just a by-product of some soil deficiency right here for this one plant?
Speaking of pink, one redbud has last spring's (?) seed pods hanging from it. Another has new, beautiful blossoms. Central Texas Gardner covered that very topic from a follower this weekend - the extension agent answer: plants take advantage of water and temperature conditions. If they were too stressed to bloom last spring (after our drought last summer/winter), then they might "decide" to try now, after some rainfall, in our balmy fall. I'm glad I caught sight of it.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Open House Oct 20, 2012
The public was invited to come out for hikes this morning, and all docents were invited to take people on hikes as they arrived. Turns out the first hour was spent getting to know the 10 or so other docents who came - because the public didn't. Which was fine with me - this land attracts some great docents.
Bill, Nancy and I got into details quickly: Bill decided much of the fields of goldeneye we were ooing and ahing over was actually Lindheimer's crown beard, endemic.
The differences from goldeneye are subtle. To me, crown beard looks like goldeneye that's grown up a bit more. But wait - goldeneye has 8 petals, crown has 12. Both leaves are rough top and underside, but crown earns it's name "beard" from it's very scratchy underside (at least that's my story). Bill also pointed out crown's leaves grow opposite low to the ground, but then are alternate close to the flower. I haven't gone back to see how goldeneye leaves grow. But it did occur to me that this means the plant has already "decided" to flower when it creates it's first non-opposite leaf.
Antother way of approaching these flowers is to simply say "It's a DYC" - Damn Yellow Composite. I have this from the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center via Patricia. There are so many of them, even the experts are flappable.
I like it. I'll probably resort to using it. Only "Lindheimer's DYC" sounds even better to me.
I hiked trail 4 with Patricia and Susan(?).
Saw a yaupon holly with red berries.
The ladies say you can make a very nicely caffeinated tea from the leaves. Must try that out some time.
Still on trail 4 - Nancy W pointed out an arizona walnut. It was dark and huge - a perfect place to see a malevolent sprite.
Bill, Nancy and I got into details quickly: Bill decided much of the fields of goldeneye we were ooing and ahing over was actually Lindheimer's crown beard, endemic. The differences from goldeneye are subtle. To me, crown beard looks like goldeneye that's grown up a bit more. But wait - goldeneye has 8 petals, crown has 12. Both leaves are rough top and underside, but crown earns it's name "beard" from it's very scratchy underside (at least that's my story). Bill also pointed out crown's leaves grow opposite low to the ground, but then are alternate close to the flower. I haven't gone back to see how goldeneye leaves grow. But it did occur to me that this means the plant has already "decided" to flower when it creates it's first non-opposite leaf.
Antother way of approaching these flowers is to simply say "It's a DYC" - Damn Yellow Composite. I have this from the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center via Patricia. There are so many of them, even the experts are flappable.
I like it. I'll probably resort to using it. Only "Lindheimer's DYC" sounds even better to me.
I hiked trail 4 with Patricia and Susan(?).
Saw a yaupon holly with red berries.
The ladies say you can make a very nicely caffeinated tea from the leaves. Must try that out some time.
Still on trail 4 - Nancy W pointed out an arizona walnut. It was dark and huge - a perfect place to see a malevolent sprite.
A little ways on, a rare little leaf texas mulberry. Looks like the second try-around for this guy, judging from the small trunks growing out of the big.
Nancy W called us back to the parking lot then, because people were showing up and wanting hikes. She called on Susan's phone, and when Nancy asked where we were, Susan said "by the escarpment cherry". We all knew exactly where that was. Not because it's the only one that's growing here, but because it's the one docents stop and point out.
I gave my first official hike to a mother and daughter, Amy and Terra. Terra's a girl scout, and they thought it would be great to bring the troup out for a hike of their own next month. I only took them on a short, easy hike because Terra had heard her mom say "House" and "Free food" for this morning, so she wasn't expecting a hike and had flip flops on. But she loved the hike (and the free food) and seemed excited about coming back again and hiking up to the House.
Friday, October 19, 2012
October Occupations
Saturday the 8th - Docent Training!! Nancy W and John M were awesome. Nancy gave a lecture in the House, then (what else?) we went for a hike!
Learned the tower is a City of Austin emergency communications tower, and I realized I can see it from Mopac.
Learned about the catzebo at the House. Must get historic photos of it!! This is where it used to be...
Saturday the 13th - Regular Hike with 40+ people.
75-80, humid and sticky, very light rain overnight
I came expecting to just be a visitor, but 'the other Nancy' was late, so I helped Nancy W sign people in and round people up. I stayed at the back with the other Nancy and had great conversations with 2 families.
I realized I now know some things about the plants, and that I don't know how to calm down a child whining "No! I want to go home NOW!" Daria (the whiner), was a trouper up to that point. She was full of questions and wanted to look at everything. She held her hand lens to moss and said "It looks like starfish".
Saw a completely dead photinia - brown leaves - fungus, perhaps? Many photinias have some degree of this. Any chance it's an avenue toward killing them?
Widow's tears are still out - been out all summer. The other Nancy said it's a good year for them. Last month a visitor said "It looks like they're floating". Their stems are long and thin, and leaves far apart, that they do tend to disappear and just pop that blue up 2 feet in the air for us to enjoy.
I named my first species - White galls (aka golf balls). Definitely not endemic. Definitely invasive.
I learned red salvia up at the house smells good. I need to remember to touch and smell more.
Sunday the 14th - Regular Hike with just me, Patricia and Bill. I guess everybody showed up yesterday.
cool 70 - moderate rain overnight
So glad no one showed! I got to pick Patricia and Bill's brains!
Today was grass day - muhlys and side oats, the state grass.
And we took trail 4. Even keeping in mind it just rained for awhile, this is mostly north slope and looks to be the dampest area of the preserve. Ferns, shrooms, moss galore. It also has the most urban refuse - both modern from the highway and old ruins - building remnants (much more than you realize - take a look at what all that moss is growing on), tin cans, an old 40's open top spin washer, etc.
Check this shroom out- from a small white ball about 1/2" diameter, a 6" pink schlong emerges!
Who knew mushrooms could be so sexy! I think trail 4 may become my favorite.
All that moss reminded me of Daria's moss comment yesterday. I told them the story and Bill said "Well, that's called star moss." and showed me a pic in his book. Hmmm... maybe I should get some Daria-smarts and get me a hand lens. And Bill's book.
We also went on trail 6, which I discovered is the trail I took the first time I came here maybe 4-5 years ago. I came with Spider Joe's Creative in Nature Meetup group. We hiked to the overlook and created stuff. A poem, a watercolor. I did a movement piece about the vultures I saw.
Learned the tower is a City of Austin emergency communications tower, and I realized I can see it from Mopac.
Learned about the catzebo at the House. Must get historic photos of it!! This is where it used to be...
Saturday the 13th - Regular Hike with 40+ people.
75-80, humid and sticky, very light rain overnight
I came expecting to just be a visitor, but 'the other Nancy' was late, so I helped Nancy W sign people in and round people up. I stayed at the back with the other Nancy and had great conversations with 2 families.
I realized I now know some things about the plants, and that I don't know how to calm down a child whining "No! I want to go home NOW!" Daria (the whiner), was a trouper up to that point. She was full of questions and wanted to look at everything. She held her hand lens to moss and said "It looks like starfish".
Saw a completely dead photinia - brown leaves - fungus, perhaps? Many photinias have some degree of this. Any chance it's an avenue toward killing them?
Widow's tears are still out - been out all summer. The other Nancy said it's a good year for them. Last month a visitor said "It looks like they're floating". Their stems are long and thin, and leaves far apart, that they do tend to disappear and just pop that blue up 2 feet in the air for us to enjoy.
I named my first species - White galls (aka golf balls). Definitely not endemic. Definitely invasive.
I learned red salvia up at the house smells good. I need to remember to touch and smell more.
Sunday the 14th - Regular Hike with just me, Patricia and Bill. I guess everybody showed up yesterday.
cool 70 - moderate rain overnight
So glad no one showed! I got to pick Patricia and Bill's brains!
And we took trail 4. Even keeping in mind it just rained for awhile, this is mostly north slope and looks to be the dampest area of the preserve. Ferns, shrooms, moss galore. It also has the most urban refuse - both modern from the highway and old ruins - building remnants (much more than you realize - take a look at what all that moss is growing on), tin cans, an old 40's open top spin washer, etc.
Check this shroom out- from a small white ball about 1/2" diameter, a 6" pink schlong emerges!
Who knew mushrooms could be so sexy! I think trail 4 may become my favorite.
All that moss reminded me of Daria's moss comment yesterday. I told them the story and Bill said "Well, that's called star moss." and showed me a pic in his book. Hmmm... maybe I should get some Daria-smarts and get me a hand lens. And Bill's book.
We also went on trail 6, which I discovered is the trail I took the first time I came here maybe 4-5 years ago. I came with Spider Joe's Creative in Nature Meetup group. We hiked to the overlook and created stuff. A poem, a watercolor. I did a movement piece about the vultures I saw.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
If you have a glass bottle in your hand, break it.
I firmly believe that if I were to remove all the bits and
pieces of man-junk/// um. Let me rephrase that.
I firmly believe that if I were to remove all the bits and
pieces of man-made junk that is lying around, in and under my yard, the whole
yard would sink by 6 inches.
Mostly it’s broken glass. I swear all males have a “if you have a glass bottle in your
hand, break it” gene on their Y chromosome. I’ve found all colors – some even opalescent. I’ve also found a pot lid, a thing that
could be a drawer handle, but I sure wish it to be a fancy spur. But mostly it’s glass. Pieces of glass. So far, this is my favorite:
The shard says
Ttled
n our
ary plant
__________________
bottle sterilized
___________________
nts 10 fluid ounces
maid ice cr
ridder, la
And I just had to research it!!
After just seconds of googling, I found:
Dixie Maid Ice Cream Co De Ridder,La
206 E 2nd St Deridder, LA 70634
Oddly, google maps satellite view is extremely fuzzy. I can make out a 2-story white wood
building with a red roof.
But after hours of googling, I’m annoyed I couldn’t find a
single pic of Dixie Maid ice cream bottles (or any kind of DM bottles). Here’s a Barq’s bottle from the 1940’s.
Given the font, and that it advertises it’s pasteurized, my
best guess is mine is from the 1940s.
Which fits right into the lore that it was the 1940’s when
people came to quarry limestone from Mt. Lucas. (More on that in a post to
come.)
But I did find some cool history.
Here’s the face of one of it’s salesman, and his obituary:
Marcus T. Kern moved to DeRidder with his family when he was
two years old, and lived all his life in DeRidder. He ws a graduate of DeRidder
High School and was enrolled in L.S.U. when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on
December 7, 1941. He served in the Army Air Force for twenty months; then he
was transferred to the 9th Infantry Division where he served as a rifleman and
B.A.R. (Browning Automatic Rifle) operator in the Battle of the Buldge in
Germany till the end of the war in Germany. He returned to DeRidder and was
employed as Sales Manager and Route Supervisor for DeRidder Coca Cola and Dixie
Maid Ice Cream Company for eight years. He then decided that DeRidder needed a
good sporting goods store, so he opened Kern’s Sporting Goods. Along with Frenchie Governale [cool
name!], he organized Little League Baseball (Little Boys Baseball) started the
DeRidder Golf Course (Country Club). He was a Charter Member of the J.C.’s and
a member of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church also the Knights of Columbus and the
V.F.W. He was a past member of the DeRidder Lions Club, DeRidder Rotary Club,
and the American Legion.
Given that he sold for Dixie Maid from 1945ish to 1955ish,
he may have sold my bottle to the limestone quarriers. And here’s a Christmas card they
sent to their customers in the 1950’s.
In 1965, ten years after Kern worked at Dixie Maid –
probably when Kern’s Sporting Goods was open, De Ridder looked like this:
Burton's Hardware & Paint Store advertised its location
at 2025 Metairie Road (in the row of businesses which now includes Oscar's,
Mark Twain Pizza, and the Great Wall Chinese Restaurant). Also on Metairie Road was the Beverly
Food Store at 2561 and Shrewsbury Laundry and Cleaners at "106 Severn at
Metairie Rd.". Darrell De
Moss offered "Artistic Designs in Fine Portraiture at 3225 Metairie
Rd. Dixie Maid served "Soft
Ice Cream, Soft Drinks, Malts & Shakes, Sandwiches at 1613 Metairie Rd.
This storefront in town that closed in 1972 and the
building was torn down.
And then finally, this:
But Cool! Jerry
Kern, one of Marcus’ sons, was the General Manager when they went out of
business in 2008, so it became a family affair for 50 years.
And so, the Dixie Maid is made no more.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Bird Watching
A screened porch allows cats to watch birds - and me to watch cats watching birds - with no bloodshed.
This morning, it was a female cardinal with her short, sharp chirps. She was foraging in the ground vines about 10 feet away from the porch.
These poor vincas flourished in the spring - I swear I could watch it grow! But then the caterpillars came. Each one curled a leaf up into a nest. Every single leaf of the vines. We're talking an area 20 x 20 feet. And every single leaf died. I'm assuming the caterpillars turned into moths and flew away. (Wouldn't it be cool if they all flew on the same night, like coral releasing their polyps?) But I didn't see that happen once. I just had leafless vine stems. Hmmm.. Still green vine stems... Then, the leaves started growing back! And not only that, but many times, each place there had been a leaf, now 2 were growing, producing a new vine offshoot. Clever plant!
The cardinals love the caterpillars. (Not in a boy/girl kind of way. More in a steak, pizza or ice cream kind of way.) So they forage a lot in the vines. Even now that the old dead leaves/caterpillar nests are gone. So perhaps some caterpillars didn't successfully transform - their leaves just dropped to the ground with a dead caterpiller in it, and that's now what the cardinals are loving. I imagine the meal the cardinals find now is like the fermented walrus or seal stuff the eskimoes eat after burying it in the ground for awhile.
So... the cats got to watch all this happening.
And I got to watch the cats.
This morning, it was a female cardinal with her short, sharp chirps. She was foraging in the ground vines about 10 feet away from the porch.
These poor vincas flourished in the spring - I swear I could watch it grow! But then the caterpillars came. Each one curled a leaf up into a nest. Every single leaf of the vines. We're talking an area 20 x 20 feet. And every single leaf died. I'm assuming the caterpillars turned into moths and flew away. (Wouldn't it be cool if they all flew on the same night, like coral releasing their polyps?) But I didn't see that happen once. I just had leafless vine stems. Hmmm.. Still green vine stems... Then, the leaves started growing back! And not only that, but many times, each place there had been a leaf, now 2 were growing, producing a new vine offshoot. Clever plant!
The cardinals love the caterpillars. (Not in a boy/girl kind of way. More in a steak, pizza or ice cream kind of way.) So they forage a lot in the vines. Even now that the old dead leaves/caterpillar nests are gone. So perhaps some caterpillars didn't successfully transform - their leaves just dropped to the ground with a dead caterpiller in it, and that's now what the cardinals are loving. I imagine the meal the cardinals find now is like the fermented walrus or seal stuff the eskimoes eat after burying it in the ground for awhile.
So... the cats got to watch all this happening.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
So. An Outdoor Room. And a Sleeping Room.
What I arrived at.
Looking out towards the back yard:
Cliffside. At the bottom is Dry Creek, which is, ironically, rarely dry.
My new main entrance:
The porch connects to my cedar Sleeping Room:
Dawn from inside my front door:
And again, wider:
What I arrived at.
Looking out towards the back yard:
Oh- and for my dad
The view above. I can't see stars through it, but the corrugated plastic acts like ocean waves on the full moon - the reflection repeats and repeats into a bright line of moonbeams. And each morning, Jupiter and Venus peak in my Sleeping Room window.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Birth of an Outdoor Room
So, I found my dream cabin on Mt. Lucas. Except it quickly became a nightmare.
One of the many nightmare episodes was that this was a duplex cabin.
My duplex neighbor is quite nice. But he's a boy.
We can hear everything (and I mean everything) the other person does. And since he has a one room efficiency, and I have a 2 room "one bedroom", I was way too close to him. Our beds were 4 feet away from each other, with only 2 layers of drywall between us (no insulation). And he had the habit of coming home between 11pm and 2:30am. Sometimes (more and more) with his girlfriend. Who isn't quiet. If I was a guy, I suppose I'd just join in and masturbate. But I'm not. A guy.
The guy isn't an asshole. He's just a boy. Let's the toilet seat fall shut - I can hear it. Slams the front door every time - I can hear it. Drops things instead of placing things - I can hear it. Scoots furniture (oddly frequently) - I can hear it. On the good side, he doesn't blast his music or tv, and doesn't have really loud phone conversations. And no yelling at the girlfriend. Like I said - not an asshole - just a boy. Who made it so I couldn't sleep.
It was so bad, I slept in my tent for 2 months, as far back in my backyard as I could get.
Back there, next to the bench.
Something had to give.
So, here was my goal:
But, given my budget, I thought I'd go for something more like this:
Yes, it's a chicken coop. See, "Screened porch" was a bit hi-faluten to me. Ok - really just high-priced. But I really did like the small brick patio, row of big rocks and raised bed garden that were already in my yard. What I wanted was no mosquitoes. And a barrier so that deer, rats, raccoons, snakes, frogs, armadillos, foxes and coyotes couldn't get in while I slept out there. So I decided what I was really going for was an Outdoor Room.
So, I found my dream cabin on Mt. Lucas. Except it quickly became a nightmare.
One of the many nightmare episodes was that this was a duplex cabin.
My duplex neighbor is quite nice. But he's a boy.
We can hear everything (and I mean everything) the other person does. And since he has a one room efficiency, and I have a 2 room "one bedroom", I was way too close to him. Our beds were 4 feet away from each other, with only 2 layers of drywall between us (no insulation). And he had the habit of coming home between 11pm and 2:30am. Sometimes (more and more) with his girlfriend. Who isn't quiet. If I was a guy, I suppose I'd just join in and masturbate. But I'm not. A guy.
The guy isn't an asshole. He's just a boy. Let's the toilet seat fall shut - I can hear it. Slams the front door every time - I can hear it. Drops things instead of placing things - I can hear it. Scoots furniture (oddly frequently) - I can hear it. On the good side, he doesn't blast his music or tv, and doesn't have really loud phone conversations. And no yelling at the girlfriend. Like I said - not an asshole - just a boy. Who made it so I couldn't sleep.
It was so bad, I slept in my tent for 2 months, as far back in my backyard as I could get.
Back there, next to the bench.
Something had to give.
So, here was my goal:
But, given my budget, I thought I'd go for something more like this:
Yes, it's a chicken coop. See, "Screened porch" was a bit hi-faluten to me. Ok - really just high-priced. But I really did like the small brick patio, row of big rocks and raised bed garden that were already in my yard. What I wanted was no mosquitoes. And a barrier so that deer, rats, raccoons, snakes, frogs, armadillos, foxes and coyotes couldn't get in while I slept out there. So I decided what I was really going for was an Outdoor Room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)