Winter is Coming

Yes, it is now technically winter. But those dark and rainy days counterbalanced by warm embers in the fireplace and hot soupy meals for dinner are a bit elusive. Dark, yes, we've got dark, but no real rain so far. And a warm fire in the fireplace is not permitted for reasons of bad air quality.

But the dawn redwood in the Mountain View Cemetery is working through its annual cycle, as always. I have not followed this particular tree's habits and schedule enough to know if this is early or late; all I know is that the tree is now losing its needles for the winter. We are so unused to seeing a deciduous conifer that it almost seems as though the tree is dying. But just you wait 'til next year...

Have a Wonderful New Year!

Branching Out

Between March 12th and March 27th, I visited the spectacular dawn redwood (Metasequoia glyptostroboides) at Mountain View Cemetery. It is a rarity in nature - a deciduous conifer. Closely related to the coastal redwoods and giant redwoods of the west coast (these guys stay evergreen all year round), it grows tall and straight like its cousins.

Dawn redwood trees are old - as much as 50 million years - so yes, they did meet up with dinosaurs once upon a time. It was first "discovered" in China in the 1940's. There still exist small stands of dawn redwoods in China, but if you have the space, you may purchase one and have a bit, albeit a big bit, of history in your own yard, too.

Get 'Em While You Can

Mountain View Cemetery, 2015

Gardeners in colder climates indulge in imaginary gardening in January when the seed catalogues show up in the mailbox. Me? I m a complete sucker for the glossy bulb offerings which appear in early summer. I'm not allowed to read them in bed because I drool all over the sheets.

For many years I planted a great big pot of tulips each fall for next spring's entertainment. And since "winter" here has very little meaning, once the blooms are over, pretty much the only thing to do is throw the tulips away and buy new next year.  Other bulbs - narcissus, daffodils, hyacinth, crocus, etc. all do a very good job of naturalizing. (The narcissus are great, but get a little confused and start blooming in October in my yard.)

This year I'm ordering my bulbs early from Fedco Bulbs. It won't stop me from continuing to look at the catalogues, but it may prevent me from changing my order each day. And although I'll be putting a small dent in the budget this month, by next year, I won't remember a thing. Just happy springtime.

Bulbs in a Pot, February, 2010

Wild Turkey

photo courtesy of Kathy Kenny

We all know what we are supposed to do this Thursday - eat and eat and eat ourselves silly. And then have sandwiches a few hours later, with football or perhaps the National Dog Show filling in the gaps. 

All in honor of Meleagris gallopavo, the wild turkey of North American. Benjamin Franklin confided to his daughter in 1784 that he considered the wild turkey to be far superior to the bald eagle as a symbol of this country.  He wrote, 

"For in Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true original Native of America... He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a red Coat on."

Ben, however, was not quite correct - the wild turkey is not native to all of America.  At least not in California for the past 10,000 years or so. Though in all fairness, at the time that he was writing, California was not part of "America" either.

If someone asked me, I would have guessed that the turkey arrived in California along with all those other nineteenth century immigrants on the Oregon Trail. (There is a wonderful poem, "Turkeys" by Mary Mackey, which describes her great uncles driving - as in shepherding, propelling, pushing forward - their turkeys to market. And I thought herding cats was hard.)

But turkeys got here along a different route. They didn't come with the pioneers. And attempts to introduce them in the 1870's and again in the 1920's were unsuccessful.  It wasn't until the 1970's when California Dept. of Fish and Game introduced a subspecies from along the Rio Grande - small, tough immigrants from a different part of North America - that the birds decided to stay. And flourish: an estimated 240,000 turkeys now live in the state.

You don't have to go far to see wild turkeys in Oakland. I've seen small flocks along College Ave. in the Elmwood and in Rockridge, and Mountain View cemetery has enough turkeys to supply a small food bank. Although, during the week before Thanksgiving, not a one of those "Birds of Courage" was to be seen. They may not be as brave as Ben thought, but they aren't silly either.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sources:

Bay Nature
KQED Quest

Shameless Plug #3: Kathy Kenny

If you want to find me on a Tuesday morning (and not many people usually do,  but that's OK, I can handle it), go over to  Mountain View Cemetery and most often I'll be walking with my friend, Kathy Kenny.

Kathy does other stuff too.  Like make wonderful jewelry out of her very own handmade glass beads, along with vintage beads, buttons and other cool findings.  On-line, her work can be seen on Etsy.

But if you happen to be around here this Friday (that's the 6th), you can see her work in person.  She will be participating in this month's Oakland Art Murmur, a most amazing "art walk" which takes place every first Friday night of each month of the year.  Kathy will be showing her work at Uptown Body and Fender, 401 26th St..

I'm planning on going, and even considering going on my bicycle (don't tell my husband; he'll just laugh and roll his eyes. Most juvenile and rude.).   It gets busy there and parking can be tight, so plan ahead - wear your helmet, or consider public transit.  Just don't do both.

Springtime (Again? For Real? At last?)

Well, it's supposed to be spring now, and lately there have been a few minutes, even hours, when it seems that spring has arrived.  Here are a few of my favorite signs that it really is spring (and not just a silly little hiccup before the fog comes in for the next four months).

Fava Beans

The bees think it's spring, although they've been thinking that since February, when they started appearing on the fava beans in the front yard (you remember February, before the winter rains started). But now, along with the bees, we too are getting the benefits of that November planting: risotto with favas, fava bean salad, and simply favas with favas (add a little olive oil and salt).

Wisteria

Need I say more? If only you could smell it here. And if you get a chance, go stand under the stone arbor at the Mountain View Cemetery. There you can smell it for another week or so.

Apples in Bloom

This Gravenstein apple tree was planted in 1984, and hasn't failed us yet. Last year was a banner year for apples on this tree, which usually means that this year's crop should be more modest. But who really cares when you can dress up like that?