Root

Day 200: Riffe Lake is an enormous reservoir formed when a hydroelectric dam was placed in the Cowlitz River. As such, its level is subject to the whims of water managers who have to strike a balance between flood rains, power production, recreational use and several other factors. Currently, the height of the lake is at mid-range, exposing a few of the remnants of the forests which once lined the slopes of the river valley. At the new public boat launch, the shingle was exposed to a point that I could go exploring without having to fight tall grass and hidden masses of driftwood, and it was on that shingle that I spotted this strange creature, seemingly making its way down to the shore. Whether it was simply searching for a drink or pursuing some lemming-like urge to return to the environment of its forebears, I do not know, but its purposeful ignorance of my footfalls left me feeling that it had some specific design.

Peony Picnic

Day 199: A red-and-black ant and a green peony bud with a wink of red just beginning to appear had too much color in it to be attractive, so I began dabbling with a monochrome, tone-mapping it rather heavily and then applying a cross-processing filter. The "rose gold" look had the effect of pulling the ant to the forefront as the primary subject without losing the drama of the hairs and veins in the bud. Something of a divergence from my accustomed style, I much prefer the metallic, science-fictiony feel of this version to the normally colored one.

Alien Garden

Day 198: This would be the gratuitous bleeding-heart shot without which no wildflower photographer's portfolio would be complete. That said, for as many different photographers as exist in the world, there are as many different ways of portraying this beautiful plant. I found mine on a short walk at Swofford Pond today.

The forest to the south of Swofford is largely "sun-fleck" habitat because for the better portion of the day, the sun is blocked by the hills. The overstory is dense and the ground is kept moist by seeps and small springs. It is the perfect habitat for ferns, Skunk Cabbage, Bleeding-Heart (Dicentra) and its cousin Corydalis. The leaves of the latter two species are easily confused, that of Bleeding-Heart being more finely divided and lacy. The two species are often found growing together. Today, a shaft of sunlight touched these two flower clusters briefly when I entered the glade, backlighting them to show the spurred structure of the flower. The setting's primaeval ambience was such that had a Diplodocus entered the scene, I would not have been surprised.

Crow's New Wings

Day 197: My last car-buying experience was a nightmare. I spent the entire day in the showroom and sales office, and even then had to wait six weeks before they delivered my vehicle. I was dreading having to go through that again, but it was time to start the process today. I left home expecting to find that a low-end Hyundai was going to extend me too far financially and was pleasantly surprised when the dealership offered me a good Blue Book return on my trade-in. A small degree of dickering and haggling soom brought a 2012 Accent within my reach. There was, however, one last hurdle to leap: would my bicycle fit inside, or would I have to purchase a bike rack? I left my Toyota at the dealership and drove all the way back home to test the fit. As you can see, it slid in easily, minus the knock-off front wheel. Back to the store I went, and signed the paperwork. Now, like the rest of America, I am in hock up to my eyeballs, but the Crow has new wings!

Salmonberries In Flower

Day 196: Here is cause for great gladness! In June, each of these pretty pink flowers will have transformed magically into a luscious orange or red berry, a little on the watery side for many peoples' tastes but that just means more for me. Salmonberries are excellent picked fresh from the vine, or they also make a delicious cobbler.

The plant is somewhat weedy; long stems with stiff thorns and widely spaced leaves. It grows to a height of eight feet or more, often forming impenetrable thickets in wetland areas. A very recognizable fruit, it's a favorite with Pacific Northwest hikers.

Hackelia, Stickseed

Day 195: Often improperly called a "forget-me-not," Stickseed certainly won't slip your mind after you've come home with your socks full of the burrs which give it its common name. Properly known as Hackelia, it is a separate species from Mysotis, the true Forget-me-not. The blossom is quite similar, leading people into the error of transplanting this invasive and obnoxious non-native plant to their gardens.

The Crow's Perspective (an editorial)

In June of 2011, volunteer Kevin Ford published a 31-page document called, "The impacts of climate change at Mt. Rainier National Park" (a pdf file). In reviewing material for the volunteer blog, the paper crossed my desk. I was so substantially impressed by his research that I have been working with him to make the document available in the public domain so that it may be read in its entirety by anyone concerned with the undeniable shifts of climate now being experienced globally.

Hoverfly on Rosy Spiraea

In this work, the reader will gain a better understanding of how every single species has its ecological niche, and how a seemingly small change here can lead to a greater change there, subsequently impacting yet another aspect of our natural world further up the chain. For example, you will learn how a slight alteration in global temperature allows plant species to intrude into higher elevations where they have not previously been known; forest replacing meadow, one bird species replacing another, habitat shifting to higher elevations or disappearing altogether. On one hand, you will see that species such as the pika, the marmot, the ptarmigan and others are sensitive to the reduction and fragmentation of alpine meadow while on the other, you discover that lower forests are in jeopardy from insect incursions, outburst flooding and increased danger of fire.

This paper is well worth a good, hard read. It moved me, and I hope it will move you as well. I encourage you to share it on Facebook, in your personal blogs, and with your friends. One square foot of lost habitat can make a difference, but so can one person. Be part of a positive change!

"Houses Have Shingles"

Day 194: How do you tell a House Finch (Carpodacus mexicanus) from a Purple Finch (Carpodacus purpureus)? It's easy! Houses have shingles, which is to say that the breast is streaked with dark markings, whereas the Purple Finch has a clear breast.

Roger Tory Peterson describes Purple Finch as looking like "a sparrow dipped in raspberry juice," a description which endears them to me. They are primarily a three-season bird, although some are reported to winter in the area. Like my other "yard birds," they love the protection offered by the contorted filbert.

Question Mark Comma

Day 193: Order Lepidoptera (Butterflies and Moths)
Family Nymphalidae (Brushfooted Butterflies)
Genus Polygonia (Commas, Question Mark)

"? ," you ask. Yes, really, and more specifically, I believe this is a Satyr Comma, a relatively common butterfly in my area. It measures approximately 1.75" from wingtip to wingtip and is particularly fond of alighting on gravel where it is in no way camouflaged when its wings are open. However, when the wings are closed, you could easily be fooled into believing it was nothing more than a shadow, so dark is the underside. Reported to feed on nettle nectar, its first appearance coincides with the early budding stages of the plant. Now that's something to think about the next time you brush up against a nettle: everything has a purpose somewhere in the natural chain.

Blue-Eyed Mary, Collinsia Rattanii

Day 192: After a short bike ride of 15 miles yesterday, I got up this morning with every intention of topping it off with a seven or eight mile hike in Pack Forest, but was suddenly seized by an impulse to hop back on the bike and ride a different trail. It was a good decision. Not only did I ride 35 miles, I found this lovely, teeny-tiny wildflower growing in a single area no more than six feet long by a foot and a half wide. I believe it is a first for me of this species, and that turns any day into a good day in my book.

Meet Blue-Eyed Mary, also known as Rattan's Collinsia. Mary is a native to Washington, and according to my field guide, she prefers moist areas. Why, then, was she growing on a dry Scotch broom prairie under the shade of Douglas firs? Her little flowers measure approximately 3/8" from tip-top of the pale petals to the bottom of her blue chin, and the only thing which saves her from being overlooked entirely is the intense sky-blue of those lower petals.

His Best Side

Day 191 (bonus edition): "Let me tell you of an interview
With an 'old-man' emu...
He's got a beak and feathers and things,
But the poor ol' feller ain't got no wings."

So goes a song on one of Lazy Harry's albums, and while it's not entirely accurate (emus do have vestigial wings), a further line is entirely true. Emu is heard to say,

"I can't fly, but I'm tellin' you
I can run the pants off a kangaroo."

Raising emus for meat and oil is growing in popularity in western Washington, and this old feller was going nowhere because he was behind a high farm fence beside the Foothills Trail, clearly marked with signs saying "Do Not Feed The Animals." As I passed back by in the afternoon, a family of four was sitting on the grass poking bits of granola bar through the mesh.

The photo is a composite of two. I couldn't decide which was his "best side."

Unusual Bicycling Hazards

Day 191: As a sport, bicycling is not as dangerous as sky-diving, mountaineering or roller-blading, although it does have certain hazards related to it. For example, debris on a paved trail or cracks in the pavement can upset a cyclist quite literally. On highways, motorists are always a concern, particularly those who are arguing with a spouse on their cell phone. Mountain biking has even more opportunities for serious injury, but for the most part, these can be avoided if a cyclist remains alert. It is unwise to ride through loose sand or gravel, to head down a steep hill toward a blackberry patch, or to ignore the Rules of the Road with respect to sharing trails with walkers, joggers and pit bulls. All things considered, the Foothills Trail which runs from South Prairie through McMillin alongside the Carbon and Puyallup Rivers might be deemed to be a bit more hazardous than other recreational sites in western Washington. "If you hear the lahar sirens, move quickly to high ground (at least 50 feet off the valley floor). Assist other trail users as best you can." I'd recommend 200 feet, and as fast as you can pedal!

Trillium Ovatum, Western Trillium

Day 190: The Western Trillium is one of the most recognizable and most loved wildflowers of damp Pacific Northwest forests. As the blossom ages, it will take on a pinkish hue, eventually turning a deep purple before it drops. A member of the lily family, Trillium does not transplant well and its numbers have declined over the last few decades due to over-collecting. I am fortunate that these grow in the woods adjacent to my home. I had only to wait for a break in the rain to capture their beauty.

Hummingbird Voices

Day 189 (short feature - see previous post): Someone once said that a hummingbird's vocabulary is 90% swear-words. This young lady was simply cussing mildly. When tempers get really hot over possession of the feeder ports, the language escalates to explosive proportions.

I was actually hoping to capture the Hum Swarm which appears at the feeders when the weather is a little brighter and warmer. Today has been rather cool and a little showery, so not as many of them were out.

Mr. Rufous H. Bird

Day 189: Elusive little stinker that he is, Mr. Rufous H. Bird sat still long enough for me to get him in the metaphorical bag this morning. Not his best side, so you don't get to see the metallic red sheen of his throat, but you are welcome to admire the rusty-red color which gives him his name, and from this angle, you can see the fan of his cheek feathers as it projects back over his shoulders.

Selasphorus rufus is the only hummer I've had visit my feeders, although other species have been reported in the area. I have no shortage of these little jewels this year! They've arrived in numbers which surpass the peak of last summer.

The female of the species can be seen in a Profile Of A Hummingbird.

Viola Orbiculata, Woods Violet

Day 188: Half a dozen or more species of yellow violet grow in the moist forests of Washington's Cascade mountains and surrounding lowlands, each with a distinctive leaf or petal shape or other distinguishing characteristic. The Woods Violet shown here has rounded leaves with scalloped edges and fine maroon stripes on only the lower three petals of the flower. It is our most common violet.

Now the question arises: why is a yellow-flowered plant called a violet? In fact, violet violets are rather uncommon here. There are also white violets, but yellow ones most certainly outnumber those of other colors. Regrettably, I don't have the answer to that question, a disturbing mystery for someone who loves language as much as I do. So much for getting any sleep tonight, and all because of a lovely little yellow flower!

Morning In Lichenopolis

Day 187: Backlit by early morning light, the structure of a tassel of lichen is revealed in all its fractal glory where it hangs from a budding branch of vine maple. These mysterious life-forms (a symbiosis of algae and fungus) are common in the Pacific Northwest to the point that no one gives them a second glance. The brush line which divides the pasture from the road is lined with lichen-covered shrubbery which, from a distance, resembles nothing more than tattered, pale green dishrags caught among the branches by the hundred. Yet seen up close, each plant is a garden in its own right, a microcosmic forest of an alien world. It is a magical place, Lichenopolis, when it is alive with diamonds of dew and soft morning light, a place of wonder in my own back yard.

Pacific Azure, Celastrina Echo Echo

Day 186 (special event): I took these two photos a couple of days ago, and have been waiting for identification assistance from BugGuide.net. The Azures are fairly difficult to tell apart, definitely not a species for amateurs such as myself. The experts have given their confirmation: this lovely blue butterfly bears the enchanting name of Celastrina echo echo, the Pacific Azure. It is a new species for my butterfly Life List. That's a pretty good way to start out the butterfly season!

The Forest Of Wilton

Day 186: There was a time when I did a lot of cake decorating, often helping a friend who created masterpieces for weddings. I did not have her skill, but it was not for lack of equipment. I think I owned every decorating tip Wilton ever made.

A few years back, I shipped the lot of them to ParkerRiverKid, certain that my decorating days had come to an end. I simply wasn't in a situation where I might have wanted to bake. At the time, PRK was renting, so the tips were stored in her mother's garage. When it came time to sort through things to move into a new home, she asked me if I'd like them returned. I'd only recently missed them when I needed to create a birthday cake for my fishing buddy, so I said yes, and she mailed them back to me. Since that day, I've used them twice, today being the second time. I got frosting all over the kitchen, all over me, and only narrowly spared the cats. I'd forgotten what a messy project decorating is, at least in my hands.

Angry Birds Tsunami

Day 185: My readers surely know by now that I am a great fan of Angry Birds. I have all four versions on my Kindle Fire (the original, Rio, Seasons and Space) and waste a lot of time wiping out pigs when I should be doing something more worthwhile. That said, somehow the memo about Angry Birds Tsunami slipped past me until I was walking on the beach today and spotted this little fellow racing in on a wave. In the next moment, he reappeared from beneath the water covered in green goo. I heard the sound of laughter, and you may say it was gulls if you will, but I believe most sincerely that there are no more swine on the beach after this assault.

Erodium Cicutarium, Red-Stemmed Filaree

Day 184: I went back over to Lake Scanewa today in the hopes of getting photos of chickadees because there had been quite a few of them in the area a few days ago. I even packed a bag of seed with me, thinking I might at least be able to entice one to land on the ground. As wee Rabbie Burns once said, "The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley," and so mine did. There was not a chickadee to be seen, period. I did have Alternate Plan B in the bag. Day before yesterday, I'd taken some photos of Red-Stemmed Filaree but already had made two posts, so put them aside. Today, I reshot the plant.

Erodium cicutarium (Filaree or Storksbill) is a non-native species which prefers sandy, disturbed soil. It is quite common on the shingle above the public swimming area at Scanewa, but does not seem to be invading other areas. It grows from a basal rosette of bluish green fern-like leaves. The blossoms are marked by a small darker purple star. And like "chickadee," at least it ends with a pair of e's. Small consolation, that.

A Clockwork Crow

Day 183: Baddiwad villains you want, oh my brothers, my little malchicks and devotchkas? I give you the horrorshow and dorogoy baboochka of our droogy little Alex, she who taught him well the flick of the britva and sang to him the Ninth, the glorious Ninth, Joy-joy-joy, as he lay spatting in his crib. Viddy well, oh my brothers, and go boo-hoo-hoo for her mercies should she find you out walking some fine nochy and all on your oddy-nocky.

If you have not read or seen Anthony Burgess' "A Clockwork Orange," the above paragraph will make no sense to you at all. Set in a future London, Burgess' villains speak a "slanguage" which combines Cockney with Russian and is narrated from the opening page by Alex, the ringleader of a gang of teenaged thugs. The reader feels somewhat at sea at first, but soon absorbs the peculiar idioms. The writing is brilliant in my opinion, even moreso because although the reader hates Alex passionately, a sympathy develops for him as he is badly "done" by the system.

Stanley Kubrick's film version of the book adheres beautifully to the storyline. The visuals are powerful and disturbing. Definitely not a family film, I feel it pushes "1984" and "Brave New World" into the background of futuristic visions.

This photo was created for a "villains" assignment, by the way. Just thought I'd better offer a little reassurance to my readers who might think I'd gone 'round the twist.

Roosevelt Elk

Day 182 (Part B): Fog lay on the pasture this morning when I went out to photograph the sunrise, and as the first warmth from the emerging light touched the mist, it began to thin. It was then that I noticed I was not alone. In the far end of the field, half a dozen elk were grazing the new shoots of grass. It was a moment of delight for me because they've been absent the last few days.

Profile Of A Hummingbird

Day 182 (Part A): These little buggers are so darn hard to photograph! They just fly right out of the frame before you can react to click the shutter. Not only that, they choose to show up when the light isn't good. Let a ray of sunshine fall on the feeder and they all head back to shelter. I suppose that's because they're native to the Pacific Northwest and sunshine frightens them.

I've given up trying to capture them from the back porch, although I've gotten a few decent shots. This photo was taken through an open window. I was running herd on cats with one hand (they're not allowed outdoors and they know it), trying to stabilize the camera on my knee with the other. The male wouldn't perch for more than a nanosecond, so here you see a female. She is a Rufous Hummingbird, Selasphorus rufus, no bigger than a man's thumb. I have more of them at the feeder now than I had at the peak of the season last year, eating me out of house and home. For tiny little things, they have huge appetites!

You might want to check out her mate, Mr. Rufous H. Bird.

A Grand Send-Off

Day 181: Today marked the grand send-off of our Chief of Interpretation Lee Taylor who has accepted a position as superintendent of San Juan Island National Historical Park. Employees were asked to dress for the party in "island attire," never mind that in the Pacific Northwest that would imply Goretex and long johns most of the year. The Community Building at Longmire was outfitted in festive colors, Japanese lanterns and origami decorating the tables and a portable photo studio which included a rather large canoe and an inflatable orca and two palm trees as props. Leis, hats and other tropical attire was available for those who had none. Good luck in your new position, Lee! We'll miss you.

Summerkraut Salad

Day 180 (bonus edition by request): Yesterday, I posted my recipe for sauerkraut salad. I've had a couple of requests for a photo of the finished product, so here it is, all marinated and drained and ready to eat! I omitted the carrot from the recipe because a) I was using three colors of bell pepper and b) ... 'cuz I forgot.

Singles Or Doubles

Day 180: Suddenly, I have daffodils. I didn't see them coming. I just got up one morning a few days ago, pulled back the drapes and...what the heck? What are those yellow things under the contorted filbert? Daffodils?

Usually, I get fair warning. The doubles in the front flowerbed (north side of the house) come into bloom first. I checked them next. Nope, just buds. Now where did these daffodils come from, the ones at Harry Lauder's feet?

They're what my mother always called "volunteers." I recall throwing some bulbs over that direction when I thinned the main bed out a couple of years ago with the thought that they'd either make it or not, as daffodils are wont to do. I didn't bother to scuff dirt over them, didn't water them in. I just threw them...whoosh!...and forgot about them almost immediately. And here they are, making me feel guilty for having been so callous, arising with undaunted enthusiasm and not a hint of reproach.

Traffic Bells

Day 179: We're having a potluck dinner at work this week, so after I decided to take my favorite sauerkraut salad, I realized I could pep...uh-oh, bad pun, unintentional...it up a little by adding three colors of bell pepper instead of one, and I'd get to use the bells as photo props before the chopping started. If you're wincing at the thought of sauerkraut, let me explain that the salad is actually rather sweet in the way coleslaw is sweet. It's also very colorful and festive. I'll post the recipe for you to try.

As for the photo, it was taken outdoors in bright sun, so I had to tone down the hot spots which were otherwise unavoidable, bringing them into an acceptable level. The white background was provided by a piece of cardstock, and the peppers were threaded on a piece of clear monofilament and then hung from a long stick where they wouldn't cast a shadow on the stock. I also brushed out the piece of mono which was barely visible between the red and yellow peppers.

Now here's that recipe I promised. Close your eyes and pretend you don't know it's sauerkraut. You'll love it on a hot summer afternoon.

1 16 oz. can of sauerkraut, drained and rinsed
1/2 cup diced green bell pepper
1 cup diced celery
1/2 cup chopped sweet onion
1/2 cup grated carrot (optional)
1 2 oz. jar of pimientos, drained
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. cooking oil
1/4 cup white vinegar
1/4 tsp. salt (optional)

Rinse the sauerkraut thoroughly with clear water and squeeze out any excess liquid. Combine all ingredients and chill for 24 hours. Drain before serving. It will keep in the fridge for several days, and only has 25 calories per 1/2 cup serving.

Photographing Children

Day 178: First let it be said that I am not a portrait photographer. Secondly, let it be said that any and all photography of childred should be considered candid because the little varmints will NOT hold still, will not smile, will not look at the camera, will not cooperate with you in any way, shape or form. That said, I did a photo shoot today centered on my fishing buddy's great-grandchildren. I came away with far more endearing poses than any human being has a right to expect in such a situation. I am featuring two of them here today. The first shot was posed. The second is candid, and I will be offering incense to the Photography Gods in great quantity tonight.

Soft Morning Light

Day 177: With a light frost crackling beneath the soles of my shoes, I stepped into a field of jewels upon entering the pasture. Or perhaps the glitter was the scattered notes of birdsong drifting down from the Parrot Tree to become transient yellow flashes as bright as the singers' feathers. It could have been frost cast by a mist from the creek at the bottom of the hillside, but such explanations do not take into account the magic incumbent with mornings such as these. There was more here than simple meteorological mechanics and physics of light. An enchantment lay on the sapless autumn grasses and tattered leaves of a season past. In joy of a sight meant for my eyes alone, I breathed in the chill air, and it filled my spirit for I am and always will be a person of the morning.

Mrs. Rufous H. Bird

Day 176: Mrs. Rufous H. Bird is hard to spot when she's nestled into the branches of the contorted filbert, a good 15 or 20 feet from my spot on the back porch. She's no bigger than your thumb, and the only thing which gives her away is her voice.

Someone once said that a hummingbird's vocabulary is 90% swear-words. If you've ever listened to a pair of them vying for possession of the feeder, you'd have to think that was an underestimate. They buzz at each other or utter a series of sharp "czip-czip-czips" which clearly aren't polite language. Boys and girls are equally coarse in their speech. Why, this young miss was saying words which would make a staff sergeant blush!

Portrait Of A Porch Parrot

Day 175 (Part B): I waited and waited. Finally, this oh-so-handsome Evening Grosbeak (Coccothraustes vespertinus) alighted on the top of the feeder and aligned himself with the background I'd chosen. As you can see from the color of his beak, mating season for this species is just beginning. The bills of both males and females turn from pink to bright chartreuse at that time. One of my all-time favorite birds, the nickname "porch parrot" was given them by my late husband. All my friends know exactly what I mean when I exult, "The porchies are back!"

White-Crowned Sparrow, Zonotrichia Leucophrys

Day 175 (Part A):
Little White-Crowned Sparrow (Zonotrichia leucophrys) is a busy fellow, not willing to hold still for his portrait until it's time hide in a tangle, safe from predators. He hops along in the grass, pausing only long enough to pick up a seed or an insect, always busy, always on the move. After watching him come and go for an hour or so, he finally rewarded me by perching in the contorted filbert. There in the safety of its twisted boughs, he was beautifully camouflaged by his coloration.

Rollos

Day 174: Wily and wary though he may be, the Easter Bunny was a little too slow. I nabbed him as he tried to run under a shelf in Walmart, relieved him of his burden and set him free again. Rollos! Milk chocolate on the outside with a soft caramel center! I'd prefer dark chocolate, but that commodity seems to be in short supply, at least on stores' Easter displays. Even Dove and Lindor were only represented in milky form, and me with my mouth set for some bittersweet with its crisp, hard snap and lingering aftertaste. Milk chocolate disappears on the tongue, warmed into oblivion untimely. Dark chocolate stays with you, lets you savor its full-bodied flavor. Maybe I snagged the wrong Easter Bunny. Is there more than one?

A Walk With A Friend

Day 173: Dear Diary: Today was a long series of computer malfunctions in our office, resulting in a cake of frustration frosted liberally with blue invective on the parts of both Kevin and myself. It began when my government laptop flatly refused to acknowledge either of us until it was rebooted, at which point it decided to disconnect from the printer out of spite. Once we had tamed that family of gremlins, a new series hatched in my email, freezing any download as solidly as if it had been left on the Arctic tundra. In the end result, an hour's work was done at the end of an eight-hour day, at which point some mutual bird-flipping was done in the direction of things technologic, and the two of us departed the building in sore need of natural refreshment. Upon returning from a brisk two-mile walk through the volunteer campground, we shut the door and went the hell home. Some days are like that.

Flicker On A Fencepost

Day 172 (bonus edition): This fellow has been at the feeder off and on all day, but he's a very shy chap and generally takes flight as soon as I blink an eye. Maybe it's because he's having an identity crisis. In some circles, he's called a Northern Flicker. In others, he's known as Red-Shafted. His Latin name confuses the issue even moreso by appending "auratus" (golden) to "Colaptes," making him sound like he's the cousin the Yellow-Shafted Flicker doesn't want to mention. I think he's a lovely bird with his rouged cheeks and spotted waistcoat.

The Black Blade

Day 172: She be called the Black Blade, mister, though some owns she was borned to the name o' Crow, or mayhap begat by one and I'll not be after speculatin'. On them rare days as she puts into port, best be hidin' the rum. Gets a might cranky, she does, when there's no piratin' to be done and only stores to be laid by between raids. They says oncet she captained a crew o' twenty, druv 'em like beasts beneath the cat 'til the lot of 'em mutinied and marooned her ladyship on an island full o' savages. 'Tweren't the last they saw of her, more's the pity. She turned the tides on the cannibals, boiled 'em 'til they was bare o' flesh, then lashed they bones together for a raft and made her way back home again wi' naught but her blade for a paddle. As for her crew, 'tis not a man Jack o' them alive today, so hard was her fury. Be ye not sayin' a word ag'in her, as she's kind to them wot needs it, widders and orphans an' all, but cross her not, or she'll be after press-gangin' ye to serve beneath the lash, ten years afore the mast and there's the truth o' it. Savvy?

Okay, I have to admit I've overdosed on Johnny Depp. How could I possibly have gone this many years without seeing "Pirates of the Caribbean?"

Rainy Rainey Creek Ride

Day 171: I got up this morning to Nature's own April Fool's Day prank: snow coming down in big, floppy flakes, trying to stick to the ground. My initial reaction was one of marked disgust. I'd been planning to go out on a photo shoot with a particular subject in mind. Snow was not supposed to be a factor in the equation. Nevertheless, I loaded my bike in the car, waited until a "sucker hole" appeared (one of those blue patches which Pacific Northwesterners use as excuses to get caught in the rain) and off I went. The top of the Divide had two inches of slippery slush on it and well down either side, and precipitation was falling rather heavily in Morton when I arrived. Dang. A few miles later, I arrived at the Rainey Creek trailhead, a place I love to walk when the mosquitoes aren't out, and the rain had stopped for the moment.

The trail begins as a gated and decaying old asphalt road, continues half a mile until it reaches Rainey Creek and a footbridge. From there, it returns to Nature so thoroughly that the way is almost impossible to follow when summer growth is at its peak. On any other day, I would have gone afoot this short distance, but today I rode. My purpose was achieved, Nature's mischief notwithstanding, and I passed back over the Divide with snowflakes scattering all around.