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!
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