What are you looking at?

I upgraded my camera last week and gave it a trial run while visiting The Farm for Thanksgiving. It has a great 20x zoom that allowed me to get closer to this gal than she would've liked otherwise.

I can just envision her saying, "Good day, sir. I said good DAY!"

One of these things is not like the other

Remember that game where you have to circle the item in a sequence that doesn't belong?

These photos were taken in Utah—three of them are natural wonders in Canyonlands National Park. The odd man out is the row of oil derricks. As a parting blow from our Commander-in-Grief, 50,000 acres of oil leases near Canyonlands and Arches National Parks will go on the auction block Dec. 19.

"This is the fire sale, the Bush administration's last great gift to the oil and gas industry," said Stephen Bloch, a staff attorney for the Southern Utah Wilderness Alliance. "The tracts of land offered here, next to Arches National Park or above Desolation Canyon, these are the crown jewels of America's lands that the BLM is offering to the highest bidder."

Thanks, Georgie!


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Mesa arch, Canyonlands National Park
Oil derricks in Utah
Pothole Point, Canyonlands National Park
Ancient Indian petroglyphs, Canyonlands National Park
Royalty-free photos taken from CNP's Web site

Keeping hope alive

I'm not sure if there will be firm numbers on how many thousands of people volunteered for the recent political campaigns. But I believe it's safe to say that there was unprecedented involvement. As President-Elect Obama said in his victory speech Tuesday night, there is still work to do.

I predict that in the wake of this election, volunteerism will surge—among young people as well as older ones who had lost their faith. People longed for empowerment, and their efforts paid off.

No matter what issues are important to you—poverty, hunger, environmental protection, health care reform, youth mentoring, literacy, care of the aging, etc.—I think we've all learned that even an hour or two of one's time can be influential. Let us all resolve to contribute as much as we can afford. As the great fighter Muhammad Ali wisely said: "Service to others is the payment you make for your space here on earth."

Yes, we did.

Cactus

Sunday was the annual fall cookout in our neighborhood. It was an unexpected but delightful surprise to be joined this year by the adorable Cactus. With grace and patience, he gave gentle rides to many of the kids. Cactus is owned by one of our neighbors, who keeps him at a remote location. I wish Cactus could live here! But alas, the city only allows dogs and cats in this part of town.

Paving over paradise

Back in May, I wrote about an ongoing plant rescue taking place at the site of a future road extension project in Raleigh. Local conservationists and plant lovers were granted permission from city and state officials to dig and claim plants from the forested site—from diminutive spring wildflowers to larger shrubs and trees. Over a period of a few years, hundreds of people did just that. Tom Harville of the North Carolina Native Plant Society has compiled a list of at least 70 species of native plants that were collected. Tom took this photo of the site this week, where construction of the road is finally under way.

"I am saddened by this loss for many reasons, but I take a bit of solace in the fact that we did move thousands of native plants that would otherwise be gone," he says. "It also reinforces the idea that when we find a site like this, we should not procrastinate. If you know of a site that is going to be developed, let me know—please!" (You may contact Tom at tomhar@bellsouth.net.)

I'd like to use this forum to thank Tom for his tireless efforts throughout the project—for showing up mornings and afternoons to help us navigate the woods (in all seasons, rain or shine); for locating, identifying and pointing out specimens; for retrieving lost trowels, gloves and keys; and not least of all, for securing permission from the proper authorities and seamlessly coordinating the effort. He must be a real smooth talker to convince landowners that we're not all a bunch of loonies!

Black River, Sampson County, North Carolina

This is where I grew up. I'm a little bit homesick.

Willow-leaved sunflower

I took a quick snapshot of my perennial sunflowers before I went on vacation. I'd hoped to get a better photo when I returned, but most of them have flopped and gone to seed now. The willow-leaved sunflower, Helianthus salicifolius, is among several native perennial sunflowers that are, as garden author Peter Loewer puts it, “akin to many American originals: tough, rugged and, like the American skyscraper, tall and bold.”

The North Carolina Botanical Garden selected a cousin of the willow-leaved sunflower, the swamp sunflower (H. angustifolius), as the 2007 Wildflower of the Year, calling it “the giant exclamation point at the end of the growing season.” As its name suggests, swamp sunflower lives in the wild in swamps, marshes and savannas, but it will thrive in wet to average soil.

In exchange for a self-addressed stamped envelope, the Botanical Garden will give you free seeds of its Wildflower of the Year selections. The 2008 flower is white wood-aster. Send your request with SASE to: 2008 NCWFOY, North Carolina Botanical Garden, CB 3375 Totten Center, UNC-CH, Chapel Hill, NC 27599-3375. I don't know whether they still have any sunflower seed, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. You can e-mail them at ncbg@unc.edu.

Please press rewind

Back to work today. Sigh.

Happy camper

Husband. Flounder. 10/23/08. Lea Island, N.C.

Black skimmers ...

... at the south end of Lea Island tonight before sunset. According to Audubon North Carolina, there are 50-75 breeding pairs of black skimmers here during nesting season, along with the greatest number of least terns on the North Carolina coast. As best I can tell from The Google, Audubon and cooperating conservation groups are in negotion to buy this private island. I kayaked along the marsh side today and explored the beach on foot. Found two nice whelk shells, a sand dollar and an olive for Mama. Paddled back toward the inlet late afternoon, against a healthy wind, and met up with my brother and husband, who were fishing at the inlet. Shortly after I beached the boat, Ian caught a nice flounder and my brother followed suit with a bluefish. After sunset, we headed back to the cottage in the skiff (with my kayak as a hood ornament). Choppy and cold. Wet pants. Wet sneakers. Daddy had homemade shrimp gumbo waiting. Perfect. Tomorrow's our last full day. Sad. But a high of 71 is forecast, so at least it should be a nice one. And we have all vowed not to let another five years pass before taking a weeklong vacation. What were we thinking?

The stuff I don't know

Dad and I were on the little bike path again today and I saw two peculiar seed pods on a yucca plant I couldn't identify. They were eggplanty/brownish in color, sort of like a cucumber in shape, with three flat sides, about 5 inches in length. Of course, I stole one of them, brought it home and cut it into slices to see the insides. It smelled rank, and I didn't taste it, even though I have this bad habit of sampling wild plants. Once, I was on a field trip with a busload of naturalists. I saw a wildflower that had umbels, like something in the parsley family but not Queen Anne's lace. So I snapped a stem and touched the tip of my tongue to it. It did taste rather parsley-esque. Back on the bus, I raided the stash of field guides. The mystery plant was Conium maculatum: poison hemlock, which is said to cause respiratory collapse and death when consumed in any quantity. Yet I survived.

Before sunset I watched a heron in the marsh for a solid half hour through the scope. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting for it to strike a fish. I was going to give it 5 minutes, which turned into 10, and then 20. I felt that if the bird could wait, so could I. In a half hour it never moved a leg. First my neck started to hurt, then my shoulders, then my feet. And I was cold. And hungry. I gave up. Now here's the thing. You'd think as much time as I spent staring at that damn bird, I'd be able to identify it handily with a field guide. If I had to lay money, I'd say an adult little blue heron. But boy, do I feel ignorant.

Sitting on the table in front of me is a slab of a tri-color confection. I can quickly and easily identify it as Banana Split Fudge. Much tastier than poison hemlock. Decidedly less dangerous.

Postcards from the edge

These are the steps leading to the beach at high tide. Crazy, huh? We like to live dangerously. What is this thing they call vacation? It seems familiar. Like maybe in another lifetime we were here.

Ian has caught two bluefish in the surf, one yesterday and a larger one today. We baked the one from yesterday and shared it among the four of us. It was maybe 12-14 inches long. We are light eaters. Hah. Today he caught the smallest flounder he'd ever seen, about the size of a sand dollar. Needless to say, he sent that little fella back to its home.

Dad and I rode the beach cruisers yesterday and today. There are few things that make you feel more like a child than riding a bike with coaster brakes. The first time I rode, I forgot to tie my laces and one got hung in the pedal axle. That was a blast from the past. Daddy has a few aches and pains but he is spry at 78. I think he gets more exercise than I do.

It has been warm (for the season) and sunny so far. Yesterday, the high was about 69. Before sunset I took a swim. Bracing! I tried again today but I seized up from the cold. Hightailed it right back out of there.

As for birding, I'm way out of my depth. All those gulls and terns and plovers and sandpipers just confuse the hell out of me. Winter and summer plumages, juveniles and adults, males and females. The sanderlings are well-known to me though. They are in winter plumage. Is it too soon for that? I guess it will be winter soon.

I sneezed all day today, though according to the weather channel the pollen count is low. Mama gave me a Zyrtec tablet but I think it must have been a sugar pill. Tomorrow will be cooler but still sunny. There is a public kayak launch three blocks away. I think I see a marsh outing in the near future.

(Daddy just looked over my shoulder and asked me what this was. I said it was my blog. He said, "What's a blog?" I said it's like a diary without a key. I told him he was in it. He said that was fine, that I could write anything about him that I wanted to. Hmmm. I will have to ask Mama to tell me a scandalous story from his past.)

Prize jams and jellies

I'm on vacation this week, so I'll miss the annual State Fair. I found these photos I took of the food judging a few years ago. I had a "press pass" so I was allowed to come in and observe. Fifty judges put their taste buds to work sampling homemade canned vegetables, preserves, cakes, cookies, breads, pies, mincemeat, salsa, pickles, ketchup and other edibles in nearly 500 categories.

Culinary superintendent Charlotte Wyatt told me the staff keeps plenty of cold water, coffee, celery and saltines on hand to help judges cleanse their palates between bites. Sometimes the cake tasters will give a few of their leftovers to the "pickle people" and vice versa, "just to give them a little change in their taste," she says. Unfortunately, some foods aren't in their ideal state. "I admire the judges who judge a cold biscuit," said Wyatt, with a laugh. No exhibitors or other people are present for the judging, although Wyatt says there's been some talk of letting the culinary exhibitors watch the judging from behind glass.

I took these photos back before I had a decent camera. Also, the flash issue was a problem. Still, I like the image of the ladies, all in a row, sampling the cakes and cookies. Yum.