Service Award

Day 110: When we arrived at the office this morning, Kevin handed me a blue envelope and said, "Happy birthday!" Birthday? That was last month! Upon opening the envelope, a shiny brass service award fell into my hands along with an employee window sticker. Yes, I've only worked two days since I returned to Mt. Rainier National Park as a volunteer this month, but the award reflects the hours I could document via my journals from my previous employment thirty years ago at Carbon River. In fact, my time at Carbon gives me a strong in-road toward a 1000-hour pin. Now if Kevin would just order my nametag, I could wear this above my shirt pocket!

It is also worth mention that I'm updating my uniforms to the new circular volunteer patch, similar to the small one shown here on my new hat. I'm proud to be a Volunteers In Parks VIP again!

The Pasture

Day 109: I talk a lot about "the pasture." This is it. I cannot remember when it had livestock in it, but I do remember the barn and the little house which stood beside it. In my recollection, they were always only a few gusts of wind short of tumbling down, home only to coyotes and other small varmints. Still, it was a sad day when the property owners turned the structures over to the fire department for a training burn.

That said, the pasture now provides feed for three distinct elk populations, not as numerous in these last few years as they once were. I personally counted 108 on one occasion, and a neighbor swears he saw at least 120. Hawks and Turkey Vultures fly overhead, searching out mice and moles, and deer occasionally browse apart from their larger cervine cousins. As habitat goes, the open field has much to offer, moreso since a stream runs against the base of the hills on the far side. Thistles bloom abundantly here, unmanaged by county weed control, and although they're considered a nuisance, their pale lavender heads are spectacular en masse. This evening, a rainbow arched above the open land, quietly painting a brush stroke of ephemeral and transient beauty across cloud and land alike. Perhaps I don't miss that old ramshackle barn as much as I thought I did.

Pig And Penknife

Day 108: How my maternal grandfather's brown and gold ceramic piggybank has survived all these years is anyone's guess. I often played with it when I was a child, my mother trusting me to refrain from damaging the slot as I extracted coins from it with a pair of tweezers. No cork in this fellow's tummy! He was meant for serious savers because who would have wanted to smash him with a hammer for the sake of a few dollars in change?

When my mother passed away several years ago, Grandpa's gold-handled penknife came into my possession, its blades firmly rusted in place. I was glad to discover that repeated treatments with good old WD-40 freed the hinges.

Snow Dragon

Day 107: Draco rainierensis (Snow Dragon or Glacier Dragon) is not hatched in fire as are so many of its more illustrious and well-known cousins. The species is known to occur only upon the slopes of volcanoes, principally Mt. Rainier where it was first discovered high on the slopes of Curtis Ridge by an alpinist who prefers to remain anonymous. It is thought to feed exclusively on ice worms, although one report claims that a young male (identifiable by its forehead "bindi" beauty mark) was seen ravaging a backpack at 7800'. Despite having wings, this diminuitive species is flightless and protects itself by scurrying rapidly between gaps in talus fields. Adult pairs produce but one egg every fifty years.

Mashell Eagle

Day 106: A cold morning found me in downtown Eatonville on a photo shoot, one leg of which was to take me to the farthest end of Smallwood Park and a colony of Cladonia. The trail reaches the riverbank very soon after you leave the parking area and affords a view of the eagles' favorite tree as soon as you crest a small rise. Today, there were two birds, the second mostly concealed by one trunk, and both were facing away from the camera. Since I had the tripod with me (a rare occurrence), I set it up and zoomed in at 74x (digital), hoping that without shake, I'd be able to get a decent capture. Patience was the key, because an eagle is always surveying his environment. I only had to wait until Baldy turned his far-side eye toward the construction to the north. Such a handsome fellow he is, don't you think?

French Pussywillows

Day 105: After the ice storm debris was cleared from the roads, I went for a drive to assess the extent of the damage in Flatland. On a side road, I discovered a number of French pussywillow bushes, one of which had lost a limb approximately ten feet long. The tips lay on the ground, the broken end still hung up in the tree beside a deserted driveway. A fortuitous find, I could not have reached the branches otherwise. I broke off several twigs and put them in a Mason jar in the hopes of rooting them, a project I've done successfully once before.

These are not the small pussywillow which is often found growing in local fields. The French varieties have catkins as large as the end of my thumb, tightly packed at the tips of the twigs. The branches are less supple than the common variety which probably accounts for the breakage.

American Kestrel, Falco Sparverius

Day 104: The American Kestrel ("Sparrow Hawk") is the smallest accipiter you'll find in the Pacific Northwest, and easily recognizable by the colorful facial markings and rufous back. Males have blue-grey wings. The species subsists on a diet of insects, small mammals (mice and shrews) and smaller birds, and is most often found where grassland is abundant.

This young lady had Ohop Valley staked out and was patrolling from telephone pole to telephone pole, keeping her sharp eyes peeled for unsuspecting mice. With Ohop Creek running at capacity, many of the little rodents who make their homes in the streambank have taken to the fields. I suspect Ms. Falco went home with a full tummy at sunset.

Chain Up For Safety

Day 103: Between being sick and being snowed in, I hadn't been on the trail this month, so since I had to turn in some paperwork at the entrance this morning, I decided freezing rain was not going to keep me from taking at least a short hike. I'd brought foul-weather gear but not snowshoes, so I strapped on the boot chains which are one of the perks of my job. For the most part, the Kautz Creek trail was already packed firmly by snowshoers. Keeping to the most used track, I only postholed a couple of times in the mile to Kautz Creek crossing where I sat to take this picture. Sure did feel good to be out there for a while, cold rain or not!

View From The Office

Day 102: This is the view from "my" office, the office which as the Volunteer Program Assistant I share with the program's coordinator. Share? Well, today it was more like "occupy" since my first duties as a volunteer at Mt. Rainier National Park required most of the skimpy space as I laid out two years' backlog of filing. More than once, Kevin had to step over me or reach across an open filing cabinet, and while he was in a meeting, I took full advantage of his absence to use his chair as a repository for a box of folders. Ah, but you can't beat the view! My only regret is that I missed that big icicle's plunge to the ground when the afternoon sun loosened its attachments.

You Cain't Get Heah From Theah

Day 101: Short on kitty food, crow food and orange juice, I made my way to town today through a series of detours. Even major roads such as Hwy 161 are still closed by downed power lines and fallen trees, and many smaller side streets have had to be cleared by local residents with chain saws and winches. Today, the issues were exacerbated by wind gusts to 35 MPH which blew even more debris onto roadways. I saw branches and trees laying across lines in a number of locations, and sometimes driving was hazardous due to stub ends of sawn trees projecting into the traffic lane. Crews are working as fast as they can to restore power to the thousands of customers who are still without lights, a number which includes several of my friends.

Always Eat Your Peas First

Day 100: As a child, I despised peas, loathed peas, hated peas, and like most children, I would push them to the back of my plate in the hopes of using the excuse that I was too full after eating the rest of my dinner to avoid having to consume the dreaded peas. No parent was ever fooled by that statement, so my mother tried appealing to my logical side. "If you eat your peas first, then you can rinse the taste out of your mouth with something you like." In that way, we reached something of a compromise. As long as I ate a small serving of peas, she was satisfied, and I had to admit that her solution worked.

In later years, the phrase "Always eat your peas first" took on another meaning in my family: do the task you least want to do first and save the more enjoyable ones for dessert. It became a life philosophy which has guided me to this day. That said, I still hate peas.

Storm Blues

Day 99: The Breakfast Batch numbered close to two dozen this morning as availability of food is becoming more of an issue. They arrived in a flock before I got the door closed behind me, waiting patiently until I'd gone inside before massing on the crow board to gobble down dog kibble. The jays nosed in whenever they flew away, started by something, and in less than ten minutes, the goodies were gone and tummies weren't yet filled.

Feeding the crows and other birds is not solely my self-assumed neighborhood responsibility. Clyde also provides. Sometimes his offerings will be nothing more than table scraps, but in conditions such as we're now experiencing, he often buys a bag of cracked corn at a local feed store and spreads it by the half-gallon in his driveway. Not a speck will go to waste, and keeping the larger birds full allows the smaller ones to enjoy their ration of seeds at leisure.

Longing For Spring

Day 98: During the months of winter, I do not lack birds at my feeders. I only lack variety among the species. Most prevalent of the visitors, the Dark-Eyed Juncos come by the dozen. In fact, many locals call them "snow birds" for their consistent presence. That said, you can't help but feel sorry for these little fellows as they scrabble for seed in the snow, however well equipped they may be for survival. This little chap seemed wistful as he sat in the twisted branches of the contorted filbert, as if asking, "Isn't it ever going to be Spring?" With snow now falling heavily, it's a thought I echo in my own mind.

Outback Station

Day 97: When I'm snowed in as I am now, I enjoy curling up with the massed works of a favorite author rather than just a favorite book. There are two I find particularly enjoyable under these conditions, and since Charles Dickens is more suited to the pre-Christmas season, I am now ensconced with Arthur Upfield and his superlative half-Aboriginal detective, Napoleon Bonaparte.

Bony is a man after my own heart, disdainful of authority when his eye is focused on the greater goal, brilliant and talented, capable of blending into almost any social strata. He is charming and witty and clever, and at the core of his being exists a strong link with his forebears which allows him to see matters from a unique perspective. Upfield based the character on a real-life personage he knew well, and the author's own experiences working on sheep and cattle stations allows him to write about them with consummate accuracy. If you are at all interested in Things Australian, I encourage you to check your local library for Upfield's works.

Oh, and by the way, the "Kelly Gang" is no kin to infamous outlaw, Ned Kelly!

Men In White Hats

Day 96: Men in white hats. Those are the good guys, right? That describes my neighbor Clyde even though his fenceposts are the ones with the hats on. Not only has he plowed his own driveway and mine, he's headed up the hill with the "quad" on a trailer, preparatory to plowing out any friend who asks, and quickly before we get another foot or more on top of what's there now!

Our first real winter storm moved in yesterday afternoon, dumping eight inches or so throughout the day. Once the sun went down, it began to snow in earnest and this morning found us figuratively up to the eyeballs in white. More is expected tonight and tomorrow.

Footnote: Posts from January 10 through January 17 were published in two batches due to my internet service being down. The dates have been adjusted to read chronologically; however, it should be noted that each image was taken on the day currently shown for the post, i.e., one photo each day.

Snow Song

Day 95: While I waited for a new modem to arrive, I began to appreciate just how much I've come to rely on the internet for keeping in contact with the outside world. One of the most notable instances occurring in the last few days was the frustrating lack of a "spot" weather forecast for my area. The only station I could pull in on the WeatheRadio was based in Olympia, and when it began talking about sea-level snow, I knew I was in for a siege.

The first wave has left twenty inches in the yard as of this writing, and another fifteen is expected in the next 36 hours. The road is clear and my driveway is plowed (thank you, Clyde!), but my morning was spent sweeping off the flat portion of the roof and making a pathway to the bird feeders.

The little ones are expectant, gathering in a flock which has no bearing on species; towhees, sparrows and juncos mingling together in search of food. Occasionally, a squabble will erupt between two territorial male juncos, but no rivalries have erupted otherwise. Feed is in plentiful supply. Wish I could say the same for my stock of milk and taco chips!

Frog Spirit Mask

Day 94: In cultures as widely disparate as those of the Pacific Northwest coastal tribes and the Aboriginal peoples of Australia, frog magic is often directly associated with the ecology, specifically that regarding purity or quantity of water. In modern times, we have discovered that frogs are among the first creatures to respond to environmental change. Science and magic meet on a common ground!

The Utter Absence Of Little Blinking Lights

Day 93: I am writing this entry on a friend's computer. When I arrived home on the evening of January 10, I turned on the computer, expecting to have internet access despite the fact that it had been dicey over the previous few days. Calls to my ISP had been nonproductive, anything from a recorded message acknowledging that they were having "connectivity issues" to a smart-aleck support representative who seemed only interested in impressing me with her superior knowledge. I did not expect, however, to find that my modem had apparently given up the ghost, victim of one too many power outages.

Another call to my ISP left me feeling frustrated but hopeful. I had put in an order for overnight delivery of a new modem and, by their own admission, this model had been slated for replacement for some time. I wondered why that hadn't been mentioned during my previous calls. Hm! Two days went by, and no new modem showed up. I saw the mail go down. I saw both UPS and FedEx pass by. I put in another call. The service rep had to round up a supervisor to track down the problem, and I was not happy...not happy at all!...to learn that the order had been lost.

With a holiday falling on Monday, it will be Tuesday or Wednesday before I have my computer back up and running. I asked if it was possible for me to replace the bum modem with one purchased at a retail outlet and was told yes, but with the understanding that were I to do so, I would no longer have technical support should I need it. Now, in the profound absence of little blinking lights, I am finding the barrel over which they have me rather an uncomfortable place to wait.

Sharon's Surprise

Day 92: For the last year, my Canadian counterpart Sharon Drummond and I have been engaged in a project to create one photographic diptych per week based on a theme we alternated choosing. I was sad to see the project come to an end, but elated when she suggested "changing up" to a different assignment format for 2012, continuining our collaboration. At the time, I had no idea this book was in the works. When my mail arrived and an unexpected parcel was crammed into the box, I looked first at the shipping address. It was nothing I recognized. When I opened the envelope, my jaw dropped to the floor with an audible CLUNK! Here was our Jabberwock & Snark project immortalized for posterity!

With my computer out of service with a bad modem and an order for a new one which somehow went missing, I am taking advantage of a friend's machine to catch up on a backlog of emails and blog entries and, of course, to thank Sharon for a super birthday present!

Totally Too Scrumptious

Day 91: Absolutely sinful, that's what these are! They were a Christmas gift from a friend in Minneapolis and came from a store called Fannie May. The centers are smooth and far too rich to be good for you, and each delicious candy is rolled in finely powdered nutmeg, some with just a dusting, others crusted with the aromatic, delicious spice. I am rationing myself to no more than one per day!

Secret Instructions

Day 90: Codes and ciphers have always intrigued me, but as a geocacher, they took on a whole new level of meaning when they were employed to create "puzzle caches" which must be solved in order to ascertain the true coordinates necessary to locate a hidden container. Although I am now retired from the sport, caching friends often seek my help in solving puzzles which can range from a simple linear rotation of the alphabet which shifts one letter to another (ROT-13, for example) to more complex encryptions such as those requiring a code wheel or an Enigma machine to decrypt. Sometimes the creator of a puzzle will employ one or more red herrings to distract the solver, leading them down a false avenue and perhaps even to a wrong solution which can only be discerned by testing the coordinates on a map. Sometimes, secret instructions are provided within encrypted text. Mysterious messages! Secret ciphers! A little exercise is good for the brain as well as the body.

Crow

Day 89: A fully feathered Crow is what you see here, literally if somewhat faintly scented with old-fashioned naphthalene moth balls, and wishing the circumstances could have been happier for donning the uniform of a National Park Service volunteer. The tie was borrowed; an item which was never part of my regular backcountry attire. Missing was a nametag because that changed since last I pinned it above my pocket, but the creases in my trousers were as sharp as I ever wore them because even in the backcountry, I had my Park to represent. Whether I now go to sit behind a desk to answer visitors' questions, roam the alpine meadows or work at a computer in a dusty corner of the museum, I am proud to be an active part of the Park Service family again.

Teasel Tans

Day 88: Dipsacum fullonum (Common Teasel or Fuller's Teasel) is an invasive plant, therefore you should feel no guilt for cutting bouquets of the seed heads as long as you take care to prevent accidental dispersal of seeds. Sprayed with metallic paint or even clear varnish, these three-inch cones are a lovely addition to dried arrangements. When in bloom, the green head often shows a ring of small lavender flowers encircling it like a ballerina's tutu, rising on stalks which attain heights of six feet or more. The thorns are sharp, but can be easily removed by scraping with a pocket knife.

Occupy Paradise

Day 87: "Occupy Paradise!" It is the rallying cry you hear echoing through the valleys and across the snow-filled meadows of Mt. Rainier National Park. It comes from the lips of every ranger, every concessionaire, every volunteer, every member of the maintenance staff, every trail crew worker, every dispatcher, naturalist, secretary, mountain guide, and it swells above the trees, rolls over the glaciers and shines like a beacon from the summit as the Park reopens to the public.

For the first time in thirty years, I will be putting on my uniform and joining with my colleagues and friends at Margaret Anderson's memorial on Tuesday. I had to get new trousers because the years show a bit too profoundly on my lower portions, and I bought two pair with a thought in the back of my mind. It is a thought I've entertained on quite a number of occasions during those three decades, but for one reason or another, never managed to put into action. My resolve has strengthened through this tragedy, and for all I wish the circumstances might have been different, I now have the motivation to inquire about a volunteer position with the Park.

Persephone's Return

Day 86: For me, nothing signifies Persephone's return to Earth more than pussywillows. To that end, I've mapped out a couple of spots where I know they bloom early, following the logic that once I've seen them, Spring is surely beginning. I noticed them at Spot #1 a week ago. Unless I parked in the homeowner's driveway, I'd have to walk half a mile on a narrow but busy road in order to be in position for a photo. Since I have no desire to end up as a statistic, I prefer Spot #2 although it too carries its own hazards.

At a bend in a rural road, the bush is in someone's yard and the nearest neighbors are rather far away. Parked at the bend, standing outside my car with the camera in hand, it would appear to anyone in the house that I was taking a picture of their home which, incidentally, is protected by a large and unfriendly dog. Two years in a row now, I've photographed their pussywillows and have been fortunate in that no one was at home, or at least not in a mood to challenge me for taking pictures of the scenery. All things considered, I sometimes wonder if it would be safer to pace the fog line to reach Spot #1.

Tracery

Day 85: Frost lingered late this morning, no doubt in anticipation of the snowflakes which fell during the afternoon hours. The sun's best efforts to dispel the thin rime were in vain. Even this leaf, caught in a beam which on any other day might have been warm, held onto its fragile tracery of ice.

Pride In Those Who Wear The Uniform

Day 84: Let this be a tribute to my friends and colleagues who are now trying to find solid earth beneath their feet. Let it acknowledge the anguish they have endured over the last several days, and their bravery. Let it be the symbol of a family beyond the ties of blood, and most of all, let it acknowledge one of our own who fell in the line of duty.

Remember Margaret Anderson.

Walking With Raven

Day 83: My walk up the hill this morning was accompanied by two old friends, Mister and Missus, and no avian profile is more recognizable than that of a raven. They were very relaxed with me, one of them hopping along from molehill to molehill in the pasture while the other perched in the brush growing up beside a telephone pole. It was a social occasion for the three of us, and I was pleased to have the healing presence of their escort.

A Sense Of Community

Day 82: Less than 48 hours had passed from the time Ranger Margaret Anderson was killed by a gunman in Mt. Rainier National Park and the moment this photo was taken. It seemed ever so much longer, an eon of friends grieving, trying to get their emotions under control, trying to find some stability in the world. There had been closure, finality, with the discovery of the shooter's body, but for two days, everyone had been going on adrenaline. Now that chapter is closed, and the more difficult one begins: learning to cope with the tragedy.

To that end, an employee debriefing was held at Park Headquarters this morning. I walked up even though I'm still sick, walked because one less car would mean someone else had a place to park, walked because...well, walked because I walk things off, both physical and psychological. I walked as a tribute to Margaret, thinking about her family, thinking about her friends in the greater Park Service community.

And what I found at the end of my walk were people quietly crying, others choked with emotion, some visibly enraged, but all bound by one thing: their dedication to Park Service and particularly to Mt. Rainier National Park. That sense of community extended across thirty years to touch me as well.

There will be a candlelight vigil in Eatonville tonight, but I cannot attend. I will, however, light a candle in my window for a woman whose bravery may well have spared others, a Ranger to the end.

List Of Symptoms

Day 81: "Unlike symptoms of a common cold, flu symptoms usually come on suddenly. It often starts with the abrupt onset of fever, headache, fatigue, and body aches. Here's a list of flu symptoms you might feel:

* fever (usually high)
* severe aches and pains in the joints and muscles and around the eyes
* generalized weakness
* ill appearance with warm, flushed skin and red, watery eyes
* headache
* dry cough
* sore throat and watery discharge from your nose"

And on that note, I'm going to go crawl back under the covers. I have them all.

A Cloud Over The Mountain

Day 80: Today has taken a very different turn than expected. I went out for a photo shoot early this morning and returned around noon to a steady stream of emergency vehicles heading toward Mt. Rainier National Park. Searching on line, I found several "breaking news" stories containing various amounts of misinformation, but the gist of the news was that a Park ranger had been shot. Identity and condition were not given. In touching base with one local contact, I was told that the Park employee had died, although it was some time before that was confirmed by any media source. Margaret Anderson, National Park ranger and mother of two young children, was fatally wounded by a gunman who as of this writing remains at large. Today, there is a cloud over the Mountain, and a mother, wife and colleague will not be going home.