May Flowers

Snapdragons. Photo By: Paula Nixon

Portland snapdragons
Photo By: Paula Nixon

I was in Portland a couple of weeks ago.  It’s a once a month thing.  Dave looks at a construction project and I get to walk around a nearby neighborhood with killer flowers.  In late March it was tulips and daffodils and grape hyacinths.  I took dozens of pictures.

On the April trip I was just going to enjoy the cool, quiet morning, no photos, but before I had walked a block I had my cell phone out taking shots. Bearded iris, delicate stems of lavender, and trees with blossoms I couldn’t identify.

I think my love of flowers came from Mom.  She has been planting and nurturing them as long as I can remember.   Sweet peas along the back fence on Fairview.  Geraniums in the front planter on Windsor.  Most recently, dahlias and larkspur in her backyard in Colorado.

But I’m not much of a gardener, especially since I moved to New Mexico—content to leave the landscape as is.  My ‘yard’ is mostly natural with native plants, piñon and juniper, chamisa and prickly pear.  A couple of patches of iris, a few scraggly lilacs, and a forsythia bush, planted by a former owner, survive, and in wet years thrive.

Tulips. Photo by: Paula Nixon

Tulips.
Photo by: Paula Nixon

I’m perfectly happy to enjoy other people’s labors: the rose garden at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, hanging baskets filled with trailing petunias on the Plaza, and my neighbor’s morning glories that have migrated to my side of the fence.

I keep track of what is blooming in the city and where, so when Mom visits I can take her on the tour.  Last month we drove around admiring the decked-out trees: peach, pear, redbud.

To my surprise I found tulips blooming in my backyard when I returned from Portland.  I planted the bulbs long ago in an old whiskey barrel.  They’ve never done much, but this spring some mysterious combination of snow and sunshine awakened them.  For a week I have enjoyed their beauty wishing Mom was here to see them.

 

 

Here’s to Spring

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another.
The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
Fisherman’s Luck by Henry Van Dyke

Yellow tulips. Photo: Paula Nixon

Yellow tulips.
Photo: Paula Nixon

I just returned from a short trip to California and Nevada where spring is not holding back.  In Los Angeles hibiscus, azaleas, and birds of paradise were in full bloom; mounds of scarlet bougainvillea, visible from the freeway, decorated the hillsides.  On a morning walk in Boulder City, red roses spilling over onto the sidewalk tempted me to stop.

Back in Santa Fe, the arrival of spring is more cautious.  The willows are decked out in bright green and tiny purple crocus poke their heads up out of last fall’s leaf litter, but the robins, now visiting my birdbath daily, sometimes find a layer of ice if they show up too early.  After nearly twenty springs in northern New Mexico I would be more surprised than not if it didn’t snow another time or two.

But the countdown is on.  With each passing day there is a minute or two more of sunlight. Another tree unfurls its leaves and within weeks I’ll fill the glass feeder with sugar water to welcome back the hummingbirds.

 

Gaudi and Nature

“The great book, always open and which we should make an effort to read, is that of Nature” —Antoni Gaudí

Door Detail-La Sagrada Familia Photo by: Paula Nixon

Door Detail-Sagrada Familia
Photo by: Paula Nixon

Still woozy with jet lag, Dave and I stopped as we emerged from the metro tunnel to take in our first view of La Sagrada Familia.  The day was sunny and hot, busloads of tourists swarmed, and sidewalk vendors clicked bright red castanets attached to their fingers, hoping to entice us to buy a souvenir.   I gazed up and tried to find the words to describe it.

The unfinished cathedral, designed by Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí, with its numerous bell towers is prominent on the Barcelona skyline. He took over the project in 1883 when the original architect resigned.  It became his life’s work.

Dave photographed it from all sides and every angle he could get to—outside the fence.  Entry tickets were sold out for the day.  It was a good thing.  I wasn’t ready to fully appreciate Gaudí’s masterpiece.

Another metro trip and we emerged in the much calmer Gracia neighborhood and lined up for the tour of Casa Mila, a Gaudí design originally built as a private residence/apartment house.  We started on the roof, took pictures of each other standing in tile-wrapped arches, and admired the fanciful chimney and vent covers.

Chimneys at Casa Mila. Photo by Paula Nixon

Chimneys at Casa Mila.
Photo by Paula Nixon

By the time we descended into the attic, framed with catenary arches, I was enchanted.  Originally used to hang the laundry, the space is now filled with exhibits outlining Gaudí’s design methods and highlighting his influences, many directly from nature.  I studied the skeleton of a snake housed in a glass case.  It looked strikingly similar to the arches we were standing under.

A few days later, rested, with tickets in hand we returned to La Sagrada Familia.  Two hours, three hours, I lost track of  time trying to take in the intricacies of Gaudí’s design—doors covered with leaves populated with beetles and butterflies; columns designed to mimic the structure of trees; gargoyles, in the form of lizards and frogs, represented creatures displaced by the construction of the massive cathedral.

Back  home I continued to think about Gaudí and his devotion to nature.  In Gijs Van Hensbergen’s 2001 biography of the architect he addresses the extremes that Gaudí went to.  “When preparing the decoration of the façade, what [he] wanted was an exact copy of nature, so he roamed the parish for years looking for the right models.”

This search for the perfect models went beyond humans and extended to animal depictions as well:

“Chickens and turkeys were chloroformed, greased and quickly cast in plaster before coming round again. [A] donkey was trussed up and lifted in a harness, where it could be more easily modelled. A dead owl found one morning was quickly used by Gaudí as a perfect emblem for Night.”

The architect’s life was cut short when he was killed by a trolley car in 1926, leaving La Sagrada Familia unfinished.  But the work continues.  By the time we turned in our audio tour headsets late in the afternoon the tile setters and stone masons had returned from lunch to pick up where they had left off–bringing to life the vision of Antoni Gaudí.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Garlic

. . . if you grow good garlic people will love you for it.
Stanley Crawford

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

Photo Credit: P. Nixon

“Are you Stan?”  I blurted out the words before I had time to think it through.

Tuesday morning at the farmers’ market—I have not yet settled on one shopping strategy.  Should I look at every string bean and head of lettuce and then return to make my purchases, or should  I buy whatever strikes my fancy on the first pass.  Both have their merits but on this day, at the height of the growing season, I opted for the former and found that the gorgeous tomato with purple streaks I had admired as I walked by the first time was in someone else’s hand when I returned.

My tomato regret was forgotten by the time I got back to Crawford’s garlic stand.  I had noticed the  mounds of fragrant bulbs as I strolled by and somewhere along the way, without consciously working it out, all of the pieces had assembled themselves in my mind by the time I returned.

Mr. Crawford, seated at the rear of the stand behind the lug crates heaped with garlic, was gracious.  He nodded in answer to my question and inquired who I was.  Slightly embarrassed, I introduced myself and told him I had read his books about farming in New Mexico—ten or fifteen years ago.

Crawford’s garlic bears little resemblance to the dried out bulbs from the grocery store that I make do with too many months of the year.  One of my favorite ways to appreciate this local treasure is to  top thick slices of fresh-baked farmhouse or sourdough bread with a mix of chopped heirloom tomatoes (purple streaks optional), a clove or two of peeled and minced garlic, a sprinkle of  salt, a drizzle of olive oil, a splash of balsamic vinegar.  This summer treat is best savored outdoors, sitting in the sun.

On my next trip to the market I’ll take my copy of A Garlic Testament for Stan to sign and I’ll try not to ask any stupid questions about vampires.

 

Weekly Roundup – Kids Rule!

Monty_EleanorW

Note:  If the links to Facebook do not open automatically below, click on the date and you will be directed to the post.

Earlier this year I was a judge for the third annual Mexican wolf pup naming contestThe drawings and essays submitted by kids from around the country amazed me with their knowledge and thoughtfulness.  Pictured above is one of the winning entries.  Eleanor’s name, Monty, was given to male pup (mp)1386 (his official identification) a member of the Prieto Pack, a family of wolves that runs and hunts in the mountains of New Mexico.

A former winner in the naming contest, Turner Burns, started a Facebook page, Kids for Wolves,  several years ago after meeting Atka, one of the ambassador wolves at the Wolf Conservation Center (WCC).  Today, he has over 4000 followers and uses his page to educate both kids and adults about wolves in the United States and Canada.  In a post earlier this week, he reminded me that I needed to make a call to my representative in Congress about a pending bill that would remove protections for  endangered wolves.

Atka is also an inspiration to Peyton, seen howling in this video with the Arctic wolf.

Run Like A Wolf

11 year-old Peyton is helping to save the wolves by running 13.1 miles this October to support the Wolf Conservation Center and raise awareness for the importance and plight of the wild predators. Please check out Peyton’s CrowdRise page and support his effort here: http://bit.ly/1FIrv2bWith kiddos like Peyton, the world is looking a little brighter, Thank you, Peyton!

Posted by Wolf Conservation Center on Sunday, June 28, 2015

 

But it’s not just wolves.  Every few days I see stories about kids finding creative ways to help wildlife, trees, homeless pets.

Best friends, Caroline and Claire, raised money with a bake sale and donated the money to Friends of the Urban Forest in San Francisco.

Caroline (a sixth-grader) and Claire (a fifth-grader) sent us a donation accompanied by this adorable note. Thank you!Inspired? We appreciate donations of any amount: http://fuf.net/donate

Posted by Friends of the Urban Forest on Tuesday, May 26, 2015

In New Mexico Dezirae saves her money from chores to give to the Santa Fe Animal Shelter.

We are so thankful for Dezirae! This 15-year-old amazing teen saves her money from chores and donates incredible treats,…

Posted by Santa Fe Animal Shelter & Humane Society on Friday, July 3, 2015

It starts with field trips and camp outs: kids learning about  bats and butterflies, sunflowers and saguaros. I wouldn’t be surprised to see this little guy doing something great in the next few years!

Here’s a cute video of a kid telling us all about what he learned about bats with us here during Pollinator Week!

Posted by Santa Ana National Wildlife Refuge on Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Thanks to each one of these kids for being an inspiration to us all!

The Whiskey Tree

Always carry a flagon of whiskey in case of snakebite, and furthermore, always carry a small snake.” —W.C. Fields

Victorian Box Tree Photo Credit: Paula Nixon

I admit it. I watched way too many episodes of Cheers in the eighties.  When I called the Southside Spirit House I was certain that Coach or some 2015 version of him would answer the phone.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  Let me back up.  A few months ago I wrote about trying to identify this tree in San Francisco. I was stumped until Ben at Friends of the Urban Forest (FUF) saw my post and had their arborists look at the photo.  They thought it was a Victorian box tree.  What did I think?

I compared the field guide with my photo and it looked like the same tree, but I wanted to see it again before confirming and completing the online profile for the urban forest map.

It was late in January before I returned, a Tuesday; happy hour was just getting started.  Four twenty-something guys were sharing a pitcher of beer at Southside’s window table.  Trying not to attract their attention, I took a tape measure out of my pocket and eyeballed a spot four feet up from the ground and measured the trunk’s circumference.  Studying the tree, it did appear to be a Victorian box: smooth, gray trunk with narrow, wavy-edged, dark-green leaves. It was covered with buds, all tightly closed.

I wanted to see the creamy white petals and inhale the orange blossom scent, just to be sure it really was a Victorian box, but by the time the blossoms opened I would be back in New Mexico. That’s when I had what I thought was a great idea.

I waited about a week to give the tree time to go into full flower.

The telephone rang and I could picture Coach wiping his hands on a bar towel and  answering, Cliff and Norm looking on over the tops of their beers.  He grumbles a little, but listens and then sets the receiver down on the bar.

He shrugs and says to Sam, “Some nut wants to know what the flowers smell like,” and shuffles across the bar out the door and disappears up the stairs.

But it didn’t happen that way.  The telephone at Southside rang a few times until voice mail picked up with a message advising that they rarely answer the phone or check the messages, best to send an email.

So, I did.  And within a couple of days I received a reply from the manager; she hadn’t noticed any flowers on the tree.

More weeks passed. Back in San Francisco I was impatient to see the tree,   It was blooming, but not showy—lots of small white blossoms nestled in the glossy leaves, smelling faintly of oranges, easy to miss unless you stopped to look and take a deep breath.

Tree #150163, a thirty-foot tall Victorian box, on Howard Street in front of a busy bar quietly does its job intercepting more than 400 gallons of storm water per year (if it rains, that is) and reducing carbon monoxide by 77 pounds.

I’ll lift a glass to that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weekly Roundup–Earth Day 2015

Interim
by Lola Ridge

The earth is motionless
And poised in space . . .
A great bird resting in its flight
Between the alley of the stars.
It is the wind’s hour off . . .
The wind has nestled down among the corn . . .
The two speak privately together,
Awaiting the whirr of wings.

 

Napa County. Photo By: Paula Nixon

Napa County.
Photo By: Paula Nixon

I didn’t spend Earth Day planting a tree or picking up trash, but traveling—from Sacramento to Stockton to San Francisco.  At a stop in Napa County, not in a picturesque vineyard, but in an industrial park where two huge yellow earth movers were silent, finished with their work for the day. A breeze riffled a small field of wild flowers just off the road and a pair of red-winged blackbirds flitted from cattail to fencepost and back again.  I am always amazed at how the natural world carries on, constantly adapting , until it no longer can, to  our improvements and developments.

Back in the car, Earth Day stories filled the airways and newspapers.  A few of my favorites:

This NPR story tells how the day got its name from Julian Koenig, the same adman who came up with  “it takes a licking and keeps on ticking” for Timex watches.  His simple “earth day” was a big improvement over the original “environmental teach-in” or “ecology day”.

On Talk of the Nation, host Neal Conan interviewed Lester Brown, the president of the Earth Policy Institute, about how the politics and focus of Earth Day have shifted over the years.

In the Santa Fe Reporter, this week’s cover story was “Oh, Beehave!” It was encouraging to read about those in New Mexico working to save honeybees after the dire warnings about the collapse of their populations.

Tickle bees are not endangered like honeybees, but this is a fun story with a video out of Portland about ground-nesting bees and an elementary school that has adopted them.

Happy Earth Day!

 

 

 

 

 

Weekly Roundup – March 31st – April 6th

I’ve never been a big fan of reality television, but I’m hooked on this 24-hour feed from a camera trained on an eagle’s nest in northeast Iowa.  The female laid three eggs in February and by the time I started watching two had hatched.  The eaglets are tiny (much smaller than the one pictured below) and the parents take turns sitting on the remaining egg that has yet to hatch and the two babies.  Once every hour or so, the adult on duty gets up and tears small bites off a dead fish that they have stashed nearby to feed the little ones. What patience.

Photo Credit: nikonlarry via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: nikonlarry via Compfight cc

Today is the final day of women’s history month. The US Fish and Wildlife Southwest Region did  a series of “science woman” profiles on their Facebook page, focusing at the end of last week on nine women who work in the Mexican Wolf Recovery Program. Not only do they work with the endangered wolves, but also with the community—it may take a few days, but I can always count on them to answer my questions about wolves and the reintroduction program.

In all, USFWS interviewed over 200 women doing a wide variety of jobs across the country and each of their profiles is posted here.

Neil deGrasse Tyson, dubbed the rock star astrophysicist, will soon have his own late-night talk show.   Hemispheres recently interviewed Tyson about “Star Talk” and he discussed how he plans to use a blend of comedy and science to engage the public.

And finally, this mini-documentary,The Journey of a 9/11 Tree, tells the story of the tree that survived the devastation at the World Trade Center.  If it sounds familiar, I wrote a post about it after a trip to the memorial.  Spring may not have made it to Manhattan yet, but when it does the hardy pear tree will once again bloom.

Have a great week and enjoy some time outdoors!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring!

The First Dandelion
Simple and fresh and fair from winter’s close emerging,
As if no artifice of fashion, business, politics, had ever been,
Forth from its sunny nook of shelter’d grass—innocent, golden,
calm as the dawn,
The spring’s first dandelion shows its trustful face.
Walt Whitman

 Photo Credit: Shardayyy via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: Shardayyy via Compfight cc

Dashing around Santa Fe last week, running errands, I saw signs of spring everywhere:  delicate pinkish-white blossoms dressing up the gnarled apricot trees on McKenzie Street, daffodils nodding in front of the First Presbyterian Church, and two dandelions poking their yellow heads out of the grass next to the front door of Cedarwood Veterinary Clinic.

Reviled as they were when I was a kid—Mom had a long-handled tool with a forked end that we dubbed “the toad stabber” to keep the pests from taking up residence in our bluegrass lawn—the first sight of the cheery golden blossoms is as thrilling to me as the first crocus.

On the day after Whitman’s poem* was published in the New York Herald  in March of 1888 a blizzard buried the city.  The poet took heat from irate readers. That’s the spring I know.

Winter is likely to make a snowy, cold comeback in the coming weeks, but I’m willing to bet those two dandelions will be standing tall, ready for wishes, by the time I return to the vet clinic to buy more cat treats.

 *The Walt Whitman Archive

Weekly Roundup – January 18th

Photo Credit:  Eli Nixon https://www.flickr.com/photos/really_still_photography

Photo Credit: Eli Nixon

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.
–Martin Luther King, Jr.

I’m off to a very slow start in the new year, but the news keeps on coming! I will try this for a week or two:  a roundup of stories and photos,  most nature-related, some as follow-up my prior posts.

It was hard to miss this story– 2014 was the warmest year on record according to both NASA and NOAA.

In northern New Mexico we had a couple of cold, foggy days early in the week along with two or three of inches of snow helping, I hope, our new piñon trees put down roots.  But according to this article in the Santa Fe New Mexican the long term outlook for the Southwest’s piñon forests is dire.  As temperatures continue to warm the prediction is that we will experience longer droughts and the loss of our trees along with wildlife, like the squawking jays at our backyard feeder, that depend upon them for sustenance and cover.

The other big news in our region was this press release from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service (USFWS) about changes to the management of the Mexican gray wolf recovery program.

Some of it was good news.  The wolves, a subspecies of the gray wolf (Canis lupus), got their own separate listing as an endangered subspecies (Canis lupus baileyi) which will allow them to receive continued protection under the law even if the gray wolf is delisted.  The bad news is that the lobos will not be allowed to roam and  establish territory north of Interstate 40 in areas like the Grand Canyon where prime habitat exists for them to live and hunt.  This editorial  favoring more robust protection of the wolves, as I do, was published at azcentral.com  and covers more of the pros and cons of the new rule.

In California a few days into Tommy Caldwell  and Kevin Jorgeson’s barehanded climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, their story was covered on NBC Nightly News, capturing the world’s imagination.  I thought about them each day and was thrilled to hear that they succeeded.  Here is the New York Times article about their adventure.  And for another take on it, this poem published at PoetryFoundation.org.

And finally, how lovely is this soaring golden eagle captured on camera by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology.

Have a good week!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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