The Color Purple:

Just where does it begin? Or end?

"She's Nutty as Squirrel Poo."

-- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

December, 2017. San Diego Botanic Garden. I was the squirrel.

The nuts - acorns from a cork oak (Querus suber), an evergreen oak, native to the Mediterranean basin. And important to a wide range of life forms, including the common wine drinker (Homo sapiens potator).

Obviously, cork is used as a stopper for wine, as well as for flooring and other useful things. What's critical is that cork can be harvested from the bark of the tree without harming the tree: the tree lives on to grow another layer of cork bark for future harvests.

Acorns w/tap roots

For me, I just wanted to see whether I could get them to sprout. So I loaded up my pockets and planted them in two large pots and waited. And waited.

And waited until I got so impatient (hard to believe, I know) that I dumped out one of the pots and was shocked by the long and sturdy tap root emerging from many of the seeds. Now what?

Reload the pot and wait some more. That was late March. A month later, baby oak trees started peeking out of the soil.

Now I did not need to be reminded (ahem, Michael) that we have no room for another tree. But there are people, a few of whom we know, who have space for a really cool, drought tolerant and handsome tree in Sonoma County. May they live long and prosper there!

Springtime in the Deserts of Oakland

The Heads on Stakes are in bloom. The bright orange-red flower belongs to an expanding peanut cactus (Chamaecereus slivestrii). Pieces of this little guy were given to me (yup, freebies) once upon a time by some generous helper-person at Westbrae Nursery. I took them somewhat reluctantly - just what I didn't need was yet another thing to feed and water. In this case, though, little need to feed, and only requires water every three weeks. So perhaps we will have a satisfying long-term relationship.

The big blooming white jobbie is Echinopsis spps. 'Dominos'. It's supposed to only bloom at night, and only for the one night (perhaps its nickname should be the 'One Night Stand Cactus'?), but this particular one had other ideas. Bloomed for two days. Days, not nights, and then the blossom flopped over and fell off. I'm not complaining. Maybe he'll even call me again?

Oh No! No Wildcat!

What a surprise this morning when the most recent post appeared on my iPad without the video!

Blame me, blame Blogger (let's not go into the frustrations of Blogger right now), blame whoever you like (your lawyer? Your not-really-my-lawyer lawyer?) but let me try and make it right.

First, if you click on the title of the post, you will be taken to the blog where you can see the video (I checked. It's really there.)

Second, I have, once again, attached Ati's video here. I've crossed my fingers, lit some candles and now hope that maybe it will show up here.

Third, it's probably best just to click on the post's title to see the video. And if that doesn't work, light some candles, pour a glass of wine, take a deep breath and remember that it's only Tuesday.

Wild Cat!

Hah! Now I bet that you're thinking that this piece will be all about Princess the Cat. You know, the reigning Rodent Slayer and DoodleFart of Love? But you'd be wrong. In truth, I'd have bet on Princess too, given that her name comes up here every so often.

Anchuela del Campo

Neither is this wild cat an out-of-control feral cat (Felis catus or Felis silvestris catus) that one encounters in cities, parks, fields and neighborhoods around most of the world.

Rather it's the European wildcat (Felis silvestris), a truly wild - as in, not domesticated and apparently not domesticable - cat who probably couldn't even conceive of a litter box. 

Larger than a typical housecat, the European wildcat quietly and secretly lives throughout much of Europe and has recently been caught on film in Spain, near Anchuela del Campo.

Atilano Lima Sauz, really known as our good friend Ati, has kept his Bushnell camera busy. I can't say for sure, but I'm thinking that there was many a night when the camera came up empty. Until at last, this wildcat showed up:

Congratulations, Ati!

Bad Photos of Fun Flying Things

When you're the tag-along on a teaching trip to Mendocino, you have to be able to entertain yourself. Generally in Mendocino, that's not a problem.

But recording the fun time with photos may be more difficult. So trust me, I was happy, even though it was a little chilly and blustery and the photos stink.

The Common egret didn't seem to mind the wind and the blurry female kestrel in the tree could not be distracted from her search for breakfast. I also saw a Common merganser bobbing like a colorful cork in the high surf, but no way was that photo going to turn out with my little camera.

I got lucky with the Wood ducks. Never mind the lousy photo - just seeing them is pretty special. They are generally shy birds, and those two males hiding behind the larger female Mallard duck were no exception. My excuse for the Yellow-faced bumblebee? Those buggers are really fast!

The Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens  was the site for the art installation of giant dinosaur/bird eggs (concrete?) in an appropriately-scaled nest of branches. If it had been any windier, I might have climbed inside for warmth. It sure would be some photo if they were ever to hatch out and fly away...

Belated Holiday Blooms

Last year, the amaryllis didn't do caca. Maybe two really dinky flower stalks, and no additional summer blooms.

Now this plant has been sharing space here for at least ten years, and probably closer to fifteen (yup, these days, time is delineated in five-year intervals. Anything briefer, unless it is something from last week, is just too hard to measure) and should be paying its way.

So I gave it a talking to, a warning, and a deadline: shape up by next year or it's the compost pile for you. 

And for a teenager, it gave me a very respectable response. Nine flower stalks, all with great shape and size. Now we just need to work on the timing.

Cannellini Runner Beans - Maybe Yes/Probably No

They were beautiful, these cannellini runner beans, and they bloomed all summer long. It should have been a big success, but it wasn't. Big plants, but not many beans. I guess the bees were in love somewhere else.

Overall, I got around one cup of beans. Oh well, not a whole lot for all that vegetation. One might say, "try again next year." More likely, I'll try my luck with something else instead.

However, once those babies had their overnight soak, they magically became two cups of beans.  Cooking them was quick and easy, and with a simple dressing - a splash of rosemary olive oil, juice from a lemon, some red onion, salt and pepper - they were damn good.

I'm still going to try something else in their place.

February in the Northeast

He withers all in silence, and in his hand

Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.

William Blake,  To Winter

Update #8

Before - Right. After - Left.

Time flies, whether you are having fun or not, it seems. And while time has been flying, the Leite Liqueur has been slowly filtering.  When it starts, the concoction looks like something that even Princess the cat wouldn't bring home. But by the end, it sure goes down smoothly.

The broccoli has been cruising along, although very few snap peas would germinate. I've only planted them three times... Isn't the third time supposed to be the charm?

And the tule elk at Point Reyes also seem to be doing well. I don't know how the time passes for them, especially on those cold and windy nights. The rutting season is over, so the females look like they're simply waiting for the next generation to appear.

As for the ceramic mice? A group is called a "mischief" of mice and it seems we have one.












And for mischief without mice? My mom fell and broke her hip over the holidays, so I will be heading out for a visit very soon. In anticipation of an upstate New York winter stay with someone who isn't allowed out for at least three months, I've started a big and complicated knitting project. With any luck, time in captivity will just fly by.