27 September 11
Point Reyes in Fall
Sunday was the fall Yolo Audubon Society trip to Point Reyes. The birding was pretty slow, with nothing more exciting than several palm warblers, and I spent a good bit of time sketching. At left is a little watercolor of the view of the Point Reyes North Beach from the Point Reyes Lighthouse. 
Next at right is a bright yellow-and-black caterpillar we saw chowing down on a willow leaf by Drake’s Beach. Looking it up I think it’s from a Spotted Tussock Moth (Lophocampa maculata). Finally, at bottom is a sketch for the antenna book. It is part of the HF antenna farm at the old RCA communications site. In times gone by this was an important location for radio communications with merchant ships in the Pacific. 
24 June 11
Ted the Stinky Titan
The Titan arum is blooming again, for the fourth time (once every two years). We saw the first bloom and I thought I’d go over again and sketch it this time. It wasn’t particularly stinky, but little wafts of unpleasantness came my way here and there as I worked my watercolors…
22 June 11
John Ruskin, Meteorologist
I just finished reading Paul N. Edwards’ excellent book A Vast Machine: Computer Models, Climate Data, and the Politics of Global Warming. This book is a history of the information infrastructure that has grown as the sciences of meteorology and climatology have developed since the 19th century. The title of the book comes from the following quote, which Edwards uses as the book’s epigraph:
The meteorologist is impotent if alone; his observations are useless; for they are made upon a point, while the speculation to be derived from them must be on space…The Meteorological Society, therefore, has been formed not for a city, nor for a kingdom, but for the world. It wishes to be the central point, the moving power, of a vast machine, and it feels that unless it can be this, it must be powerless; if it cannot do all it can do nothing. It desires to have at its command, at stated periods, perfect systems of methodical and simultaneous observations; it wishes its influence and its power to be omnipresent over the globe so that it may be able to know, at any given instant, the state of the atmosphere on every point on its surface. — John Ruskin (1839).
John Ruskin as a twenty-year-old was into meteorology. Who knew?
17 June 11
Life Atmospheric Phenomenon
Seeing crepuscular rays at sunset is unusual, but I can remember a few in my fifty-odd years. Seeing a single beam of light going straight up is one I’ve never seen before. Known as a buddha ray, it probably has engendered numerous UFO-calls today from northern California.
This month the birth, enlightenment, and death of the Buddha are celebrated. The theory goes that any merit gained during this lunar month is magnified. May our thoughts turn to generosity and to the light.
15 May 11
Sketching Through The Weekend
Several sketches from a long weekend. The first at right is of a barn about a mile-and-a-half southeast of here on Eggert Road; I cycled out past there on Friday. 
The second at left is a scene from the Davis Farmers Market; Pete Scully who organizes the Davis Sketchcrawl chose the Farmers Market as the monthly venue for it on Saturday.
The final sketch is a little watercolor I did this afternoon showing today’s unstable skies. Mount Diablo to the south is the peak in the sketch. There were several thundershowers throughout the day. We went for a walk in the morning and got hailed upon. 
20 February 11
February Sketchcrawl
Following the passage of a cold front, I woke up yesterday to the sight of snow sprinkled on the Vaca Mountains, and with wet-looking clouds still blowing on through this month’s Davis Sketchcrawl called for dressing warmly. Several of us sketchers met on campus at the Death Star AKA the Social Sciences and Humanities Building. The sketch at left are two views of this odd maze of a building. Fingers frozen, we headed to a nearby cafe for lunch and finished up the day only a couple hundred yards from where we began at the bus circle near the student union.
22 January 11
SketchCrawl 30
Today was the 30th Worldwide SketchCrawl. I’m not sure how many of these I’ve participated in, somewhere between five and ten I would guess. Pete Scully organized the Davis edition of this event; a number of us meeting at E Street Plaza in downtown Davis at 11 AM. It was a beautiful day, beckoning of spring, temperature in the mid-60s, breezy in the afternoon. That helped with the turnout, which was huge: at least 25 sketchers. We stayed within a couple of blocks of the starting point, my furthest journey being out to Ace Hardware to add a sketch to my antenna book . Pica arrived in the afternoon following leading a children’s bird count event. We sauntered forth after our traditional Saturday lunch of a burrito and soft tacos and stayed to the event’s finish at 3:30.
19 December 10
A Little Bit Inclement
Today was the Putah Creek Christmas Bird Count. At four I got up and it was pouring; went back to bed; got up again at 4:30, still the same. We eschewed our tentative plans to go owling and ended up getting to the base of Thompson Canyon at the very tardy hour of 9:15. It was a quagmire.
We ended up seeing really more cows than birds in oak woodland chaparral, which is not where you generally expect to see cows around here. Most of the birds on our list were heard-only. After we threw in the towel with mud up to our knees we went over to the bridge to see if we could see the dipper that’s been hanging around (no luck) but did get to see a spectacular male Barrow’s goldeneye.
Three entirely new species were added to the count list today: great-tailed grackle, evening grosbeak, warbling vireo. Tallymeister Joan Humphrey couldn’t remember a time after about the first 10 years of the count when that many new species were added. And this on a day when many people bailed early because of driving rain (it did clear up a bit in the afternoon but by then many of us had moved on to hot showers or a nap).
10 October 10
10.10.10 -- On this day, in this place
I lay in bed and pressed my feet together, trying to stretch my left hip. Charlie Cat heard me rustle the cover and jumped on my bladder.
I got up at 7, emptied said bladder, and fed the cats and put the tea on.
I got out the silk scarf I was knitting for an exchange and knit 20 rows.
Noticed a tortie feral cat in the alfalfa, a day after Mary took her last two cats (outdoor) to southern California. Interesting timing, yes?
I went across the road to let the chickens out, feed them, water them, watch them. They are in heavy moult, having been wormed. They all looked up, alarmed, when the yellow-billed magpies gave a three-note alarm call. False. They resumed pecking at the scratch.
I went back across the street — noticing the sparrows in Mary’s ceanothus, thinking I should draw them — and saw that Numenius was out with the cats. Diego was getting stoned on catmint, the catnip now being entirely dried out, and Charlie was on another gopher which he didn’t catch, which is most of the time.
I had breakfast at around 9:30 am, cooked nine-grain cereal with fruits, nuts, yoghurt, same as every morning. It’s usually cold by the time I get to it. I love it anyway.
Numenius went out to do a 15-minute bird count and I moved on to the sock I’m knitting, a merino-bamboo handwash-only mystery sock whose pattern is released as a series of weekly clues on Friday. I’ve nearly finished the second clue for both socks, so I’ll be well ahead of the Friday deadline. It’s looking like a gansey sampler sock but I think I’ll call mine “Nanobot in the Garden.”
I called my mother and my friend Linda, neither of whom were in. I told Mum’s answering machine I expected she was on her 3-mile Sunday walk to get the paper and I told Linda’s I’d seen the mega-rare sharp-tailed sandpiper on Wednesday, when it got called a pectoral. I hadn’t just seen it: I’d spotted it first. (Note to self: don’t just take the word of people who are “better” birders…)
Numenius went in to work. I cut up a large pile of nightshades from the garden along with zucchini and pattypans and put them in the solar cooker for a ratatouille. I washed out the three large (3- and 5-gallon) water containers that have sat outside for months so we can fill them up at the Coop’s 11% sale next weekend. Then I got on my bike and went to work too.
At work, I watered all the plants, read my email, scanned my feed reader, put some pdfs in a folder to upload (conference proceedings from last week), worked on the Audubon newsletter, farted around on Ravelry which is far more compelling than Facebook and for me much less of a timesink.
Came home and made a sandwich from natural ground peanut butter from the Coop. For a treat, I added raspberry jelly which I never do. Harry and David. I think the last time that jar was opened was the last time Linda was here, at this point years ago, she not ever considering peanut butter without jelly. That reminded me to email her that the sharp-tailed sandpiper WAS in fact seen yesterday at the bypass. She has over 750 ABA birds but that’s not one of them. She’s 3,000 miles away. I am losing my credentials as a birder fast. Somehow, this doesn’t distress me.
Turned on the Giants game after the national anthem (phew) but before the first pitch (Phew). Picked up my sock. Numenius comes in during the first inning.
We listen to the entire game, agony and all, missing god bless america but catching take me out to the ballgame, which is so very much as it should be. Giants win, 3-2. Nothing about this is easy. Game 4 tomorrow, still in Atlanta, we’ll have to put up with that horrific tomahawk chop again, makes me stabby. During the 5th inning I get the quinoa on, chopped onions (half of the insides are rotten and fetid, will make fantastic compost) sauteed in organic extra virgin olive oil from Napa.
After the game I call Andrew then Chris about delivering my ratatouille and quinoa to them as brand-new parents. Baby is still in hospital with jaundice. Andrew is getting the cable people sorted out so I see Chris and Rafael the baby, complete with purple eyemask and UV bed (needs his bilirubin count to rise before he can be allowed home). Veterinarians make bizarre mothers: they see their babies as patients.
Go to the Coop and put in a bulk order, for the 11% sale, for 25-pound bags of beans, rice, 9-grain cereal, lentils, and a 2-lb bag of Irish Breakfast tea. On the way home I shut the chickens back into their coop (it’s now dark, a waning crescent moon on its way to setting). I say goodnight, ladies, like I do every night.
Get home and serve myself some ratatouille over quinoa with a glass of Chilean red. When I get the parmesan out Diego mugs me for it.
Sit down to write a blog. This is quite the longest one in ages. Great questions of the day: will I ever be able to sit comfortably on the floor, cross-legged? And have I really entered menopause, rather than all. these. false. alarms.? Stay tuned. .
6 August 10
Mr. Ibis Returns
Judging by older blog posts we have a pattern here. In August when they cut the alfalfa and irrigate, the white-faced ibis having recently returned to the area from their summertime jaunts find the flooded fields and settle in for an hour or several of feeding. Often they show up quite close to the house, as they do here.