Category Archives: California

Weekly Roundup – April 6th – 12th

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Bats in the bedroom? Flickers in the gutter?

7 Gentle Ways to Use a Broom in Spring in the current issue of Orion Magazine tells how to deal with both, plus a few other unwanted visitors.

Female Ladder-Backed Woodpecker Photo Credit: Dave Betzler

Female Ladder-Backed Woodpecker
Photo Credit: Dave Betzler

At my house this week we have woodpeckers at the back patio and eagles in the kitchen via a live feed from Decorah, Iowa.  The third egg hatched last week and the adults are allowing the eaglets, especially the oldest one, a little more time out in the sunshine, but it will still be weeks before they are ready to try their wings.

Today I spotted my first hummingbird of the season at my nectar feeder. According to  Anne Schmauss, in this article in the New Mexican, they arrived right on schedule.  She provides all of the information you need to attract hummers to your backyard.

On a  more serious note there has been lots of news coming out of California the last few days about the ongoing drought and  new restrictions on water use. Drought Tests History of Endless Growth in The New York Times is an in-depth look at the challenges the state faces.

And finally, in celebration of spring and National Poetry Month, a recitation by Tom O’Bedlam of Daffodils by William Wordsworth.

Enjoy your week and let me know if you have seen any hummingbirds in your neighborhood!

The California Drought and the Ridiculously Resilient Ridge

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Photo Credit: P. Nixon

I spent the last week traveling in California.

On the drive from San Diego to Sacramento through the San Joaquin Valley no sign of blossoms on the fruit and nut trees, but the fields and hills were green.   Near Wasco flocks of sheep grazed, knobby-kneed lambs staying close to their mothers.   Dave made a u-turn so I could get a picture of this wary ewe and her baby.

Heavy autumn rains had started to ease the drought in some parts of the state until the spigot shut off in December.  Why did the rain stop?   This story on Friday’s edition of The California Report says it could be due to the return of the Ridiculously Resilient Ridge or Triple R, a high pressure system trapped over California that keeps conditions dry.  This atmospheric phenomenon was identified and named by Stanford PhD candidate, Daniel Swain, in 2013.  He says in a recent post on his blog that this year’s condition is not quite the same . . . yet.

Whatever the reason it looks like California could be headed into a fourth year of drought.

 

 

 

 

 

Mapping the Urban Forest

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I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues.
–Dr. Suess

 

Howard Street Tree Photo by: P. Nixon

Howard Street Tree
Photo by: P. Nixon

This tree is visible from a window in the San Francisco office where  Dave and I spend  a few days each month. For years I have looked around it, walked past it, taken pictures of the green neon shamrocks above it, but  never once did I give it a second glance.

It took this sign posted on a barricade protecting a newly planted tree on the other side of town to make me take a closer look at my neighborhood.

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

Friends of the Urban Forest is affiliated with a mapping project that began five years ago–its goal to identify and catalog all of  San Francisco’s trees with the help of city government, nonprofits, and citizens.  The result, the  urban forest map, quantifies CO2 reduction, water and energy conserved, and pollutants reduced because of the trees.

I went to the online map certain that my newly discovered tree on Howard Street between First and Second would be on it and it was.  Tree number 150163.  That was it.  No species identification, no trunk diameter to calculate it’s ecological impact.  Just the number, waiting for someone to finish its profile.

Suddenly, it became my tree.

I walked over to get a closer look.  The lone tree stands in front of the Southside Spirit House, a small bar in a one-story building huddled together with four or five other old structures in a neighborhood filled with cranes busily erecting office buildings and condominium towers.

I took pictures and studied the trunk and leaves.  Sitting down at my computer I used the urban tree identification guide, step-by-step, but couldn’t figure it out.

Dave went with me to take another look.   We gathered leaves and seed pods.

Back at the computer, this time armed with samples, I tried again.  Were the leaves compound or simple?  I followed both paths, but still couldn’t identify the tree.   Was it a floss silk or a cape chestnut or a Chinese fringe?  Maybe it was a ficus, my first guess.  I couldn’t be sure so for now it will have to wait.

On my next visit I’ll go into the spirit house, order a beer and ask the bartender if she knows when the tree blooms and what color.  For now I am calling it the truffala tree in honor of the Lorax.

Santa Fe Market Report

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My favorite podcast, Good Food, comes out of the public radio station KCRW in Santa Monica, California.  Over the years I have discovered where to find tiny, tasty, caramel pies in Beverly Hills; have followed the host Evan as she baked a pie a day, one summer; and have even learned how to stuff a pumpkin with “everything delicious”.

But, the best part of the show, especially when the snow is flying in Santa Fe, is the market report.   Each week the manager of the Santa Monica Farmers’ Market  (held on Wednesday and Saturday mornings) walks through the tables loaded with produce, talks to the farmers, and describes in detail what’s available.

Santa Fe also has a year round farmers’ market and, once again, it has moved outside for the late spring, summer, and early fall seasons (held on Tuesday and Saturday mornings).  I made my first trip last week and came home with Swiss chard, spring onions, cilantro, arugula, and radishes.   When I checked to see what was in season at the Santa Monica market, I found  apricots, peaches, nectarines, berries, and lots of summer herbs.

So . . . I’m curious.  Have you been to your local farmers’ market yet and, if so, what did you bring home?

 

 

 

Friday Afternoon on the 101

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The white feather was what caught my eye.  A small dark bird was perched on a highway sign with the piece of fluff in its beak, waiting . . .

Photo Credit: poeloq via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: poeloq via Compfight cc

We were all waiting.  Dave and I had made the slow crawl north out of San Jose and had finally reached our exit.  Sitting at a red light, I watched the bird make its move: a short flight to an opening, several feet above the street, in the large steel post that held the traffic signal.  Too soon . . . another bird poked its head out of the hole .

The bird took the feather back to its perch.  The light turned green–I wouldn’t see the outcome.

Photo Credit: rogersanderson via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: rogersanderson via Compfight cc

What kind of a bird builds a nest in a hollow pole in the middle of six or eight lanes of traffic?  Chiccadee and BarnSwallow at WhatBird.com answered the question as best they could, based on my description and the urban setting–maybe a purple martin or perhaps a northern rough-coated swallow.

Soon, an observant commuter might witness a fledgling balancing on the thin steel edge, gathering the courage to take wing.

The Great Egret of Delano

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Picture these long legs . . .

Photo Credit: SivamDesign via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: SivamDesign via Compfight cc

Stalking bugs here. . .

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

If not for the flat tire, I would not have seen him . . .

Rain finally came to California last week.  What was just a drizzle when Dave and I landed on Wednesday night in Los Angeles turned into a downpour by the time we passed through the northernmost suburbs of LA on our way to Delano.

Even on a dark, wet night the four lanes of Interstate 5 were busy:  semi trucks stayed to the right, straining to haul heavy loads over the Tehachapi Mountains while nimble sedans and sport utility vehicles raced each other to the summit of Tejon Pass.

I twirled the knob on the radio dial looking . . . Thunk.   Flap, flap, flap . . . Then the slow motion effort to cross all of those lanes of traffic hoping to coordinate our arrival in the far right lane with an exit.  We just missed it, but got far enough off the road to avoid getting splashed.

Next, the drill:  rain slicker and galoshes donned; suitcases thrown into the back seat; tire iron, jack, and spare unloaded.  I rifled through my suitcase and found not one, but two flashlights. Clutching an umbrella in one hand and the light for Dave in the other, the irony didn’t escape me. Just two weeks ago  I wrote about a rainy February night on another California highway,  changing a flat tire.  Twenty-eight years later the only thing missing was the whiskey.

We eased back out into the traffic and  gingerly made our way up to the 4100 foot apex of the pass on the tiny spare, before we descended through Grapevine Canyon and into the south end of the San Joaquin Valley, breathing a sigh of relief when we finally saw the lights of Bakersfield, our stop for the night.

The next morning  the air was clear, smog washed away, a break between storms.  We hoped it would last long enough  to travel north to Delano and then back south into the heart of LA before heading east into San Bernardino County and finally south to Chula Vista just north of the Mexican Border–almost 400 miles.  But first we needed a new tire.

Dave spotted the great egret (Ardea alba) on a pile of rubble as we pulled into the parking lot of Pacific Tire just off California Highway 99.  Fumbling with my camera, I missed my chance to get a shot, but the big bird hadn’t gone far, just over to the highway embankment looking for breakfast.

The crew changing the tire expressed no surprise at seeing a woman in a skirt and heels focusing a pair of binoculars on  . . . what?  Something just out of their line of sight, they turned their attention back to the job at hand.

By the time the egret moved too far south for me to continue to watch him,  the new tire had been mounted.  We were ready to go.

 

 

 

Memories of Monterey

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It was a Thursday, and it was one of those days in Monterey when the air is washed and polished like a lens, so that you can see the houses in Santa Cruz twenty miles across the bay and you can see the redwood trees on a mountain above Watsonville.  The stone point at Fremont’s Peak, clear the other side of Salinas, stands up nobly against the east.  The sunshine had a goldy look and red geraniums burned the air around them.  The delphiniums were like little openings in the sky. From Sweet Thursday by John Steinback

Photo Credit: betta design via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: betta design via Compfight cc

It’s February in northern New Mexico.  The trees are bare and with the exception of a recently installed “forever” lawn in front of an office building on Paseo de Peralta, there isn’t a blade of green grass in sight.  Nothing is blooming.  It’s been unusually warm, but it doesn’t feel right to wish for an early spring when we desperately need snow.

So instead, I am rereading Sweet Thursday.  I can picture the rocky coastline along Monterey Bay, cypress trees yawning east, where Doc in his rubber boots, wooden pail in hand, is collecting samples from the tide pools.  When he returns to Cannery Row, Mack and the gang will be waiting, hoping to bum a dollar or two for beer.

I was in Monterey in February once. In pouring rain we drove down from San Francisco and had a flat.  Dave changed the tire on the side of a dark road.  A stranger watched and shared his umbrella and bottle of whiskey.  I think it was a Thursday.

By Saturday, the day of the wedding that we had come for, the air was clear and bracing and smelled clean and briny.  Wearing a scarlet dress I posed with the bride for a photo on the emerald lawn outside the chapel, our satin heels sinking into the damp dirt. It was a magical place where sea otters played in the bay and geraniums bloomed in the middle of winter.

I look back across the years and miles, longing to return, but I know it wouldn’t be the same.  California is suffering from a drought as bad or worse than New Mexico’s.  The forecast in Monterey today is for a high of sixty-five, cloudy with no chance of rain.

Downstairs by the French doors I have three big clay pots on wheels, planted with geraniums.  Too long indoors, the leaves are leggy, large and pale, pressing towards the glass, reaching for the sun.  Today I will give them a drink of water, but it will be weeks before the last threat of frost of has passed and I can roll them outside.

 

 

 

Eating Crab Cocktail in San Francisco

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Last week I rode one of the classic streetcars down Market Street and around the Embarcadero to Fisherman’s Wharf. It was a festive trip, as it usually is. Visitors were holding on to the leather straps studying the Muni transfers given to them by the driver in exchange for two dollars; looking up, occasionally, to take in the sights as we rolled down the street; and consulting with their travel mates as to the best place to disembark.

San Francisco’s waterfront offers endless possibilities: shopping for picnic supplies at the Ferry Building, taking photos of the resident sea lions at Pier 39, or savoring a crab cocktail at the wharf.

Dungeness crabs at Fisherman's Wharf

Dungeness crabs at Fisherman’s Wharf

What the visitors probably don’t realize, just as I didn’t for a long time,  is that the crabs on display today are not local crabs. A vendor confirmed, when I asked at one of the many seafood stands lined up along the wharf, that commercial Dungeness crab season will open on November 15th. It runs through June, although most of the crabs (only males over 5 3/4″) are caught by the end of December.  Crab season along the Pacific Coast from central California up to Alaska is staggered throughout the year so there never seems to be a shortage of crab cocktail at the wharf.

If you order a one of the little cardboard containers filled with the sweet seafood doused in cocktail sauce to eat while you enjoy a walk along the piers, be on the lookout for these bad boys.

Seagull

Seagull

If one of them snatches your lunch out of your hand, you won’t get a refund or any sympathy.

Warning

Warning

Lunch hour in Redwood Park

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With such a short stay in San Francisco this week I don’t have time to visit the coast redwoods in their native habitat in Muir Woods.  The next best thing is this peaceful park in the heart of the Financial District.

Out on Montgomery everyone is in a hurry, hustling down the street with a carryout lunch to take back to the office.  Cab drivers vie for position with motorcycles and pedestrians, honking when someone doesn’t move fast enough.

Inside the park a fountain muffles the street noise and tourists sit on benches, pens poised over postcards.

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The grove of redwoods tower overhead. How tall are they?  I try to gauge based on the buildings behind them, but I’m not sure–my best guess is 150 plus feet.  They are the tallest trees on earth and can reach 300 feet.

I could stay here all day, but will venture back out to the street to catch a bus.

The Sea Lions of San Francisco

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Corn dogs.  Cotton candy.  Caricature artists.  It’s all at Pier 39–San Francisco’s nonstop carnival for the last 35 years.

Photo Credit: Benson Kua via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: Benson Kua via Compfight cc

It was tempting, but I kept walking past the churro stand and carousel to the railing at the back of the pier.  Sunlight glinted on the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge was visible in the distance, but I didn’t linger.  What I wanted to see was around the corner and I could already hear the barking and yelping.

Photo Credit: towneplaceturningpoint.com VOTE for my pic on p.6 via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: towneplaceturningpoint.com

I had to wait a few minutes for a spot to open up next to the railing, almost every person with a camera pointed toward the California sea lions (Zalophus californianus).  About twenty feet away was a wooden float with fifteen or so of the huge marine mammals napping, flipper to flipper.

They haven’t always been at Pier 39, but began to show up a few months after the October 1989 Loma Prieto earthquake that crumpled a portion of the  Bay Bridge and disrupted a World Series game at Candlestick Park.  That was more than twenty-three years ago and no one knows for sure if the two events were related.

K-Dock was originally a boat dock when the pinnipeds took up residence, but over time the boats were relocated and the sea lions were allowed to stay.   With a ready source of herring and other food available in the bay and none of their predators, great white sharks and Orcas, present  it has become a favorite spot for the males to hang out.  The females tend to stay near their breeding grounds in the Channel Islands.

While I stood at the rail juggling my camera and recorder trying not to drop either in the water, a constant stream of visitors flowed around me.  A breeze kept the strong fishy smell at bay.

Two youngsters, judging by their size,  hauled up into the group of  sleeping adults,  ignoring several empty floats just a few feet away.  They shook themselves dry, shoving and biting each other.  The napping sea lions barked in protest, rolled over, and soon the two juveniles were back in the water, chasing each other around the bay.

Pier 39 provides a twenty-four hour sea lion webcam and if you scroll to the bottom of this article on the Marine Mammal Center’s website you can also get a sense of what it sounds like out on the west side of the pier.  The only thing missing is the smell!