Brr. There’s a cold front visiting from Alaska, and the sky is thunderstorm cloudy and it’s cold. It’s been a somewhat cool June so far, but the thermometer dropped from 42 down to 40 degrees in the half hour I was walking around nuking wasp nests and suspected wasp nests.
We don’t usually countenance chemical weapons up here on the hill, but make an exception for wasp spray.
I try to take a live and let live stance up here, but when I come right up to a nest crawling with adults and grubs right out of a freaking nightmare, why, I just aim the nozzle and press the button and the bad dream goes away.
Nothing ruins your day like being stung by a wasp.
A light rain for a couple hours early yesterday morning. It has been a wet winter and spring, and it is good to see an extra splash or two before the hard light of a hot summer hits.
After so many years of drought, the trees are really responding to the good rains. The pines and oaks have a “leggy” look to them, as they race to grow as tall as fast as possible. They are not only shooting out new tips and leaves, but the main branches themselves are growing in between the places where other branches have forked off.
The picture above is a good illustration. The tree on the left is shooting out new growth up and out from the trunk at a furious rate, giving it a more stretched out look. It’s sibling to the right is more compact, not expending as much energy to grow out and taller.
Speaking of which, I’ve been reading a new book called “The Hidden Life of Trees” by a German forester named Peter Wohlleben. Quick review: Broken into small, easily digestible chapters, this book discusses how trees exist together as a community in forests and live alone in urban centers as street foliage or in parks. It’s a good book, folks who spend time outdoors under the canopies of trees would do well to read it. It’s been a real eye opener, I’ve been totally rethinking how to coexist with the forest which surrounds the cabin on the hill, as well as seeing the forest and the trees with new eyes.
An example is demonstrated by the picture above. The two trees are cooperating in a mutual growth strategy. The tree on the left is the one which is utilizing the local common water and nutrient resources to sustain a burst of growth while its sibling to the right is content to grow at a more conservative rate. It is in fact likely that the tree on the right is contributing the sugars produced by its leaves through the underground root and fungus network to the tree on the right to “help” it grow.
I love this place.
A nice spring rain for a couple of hours in mid May.
Go, wildflowers, go!
It’s been getting warmer for the last few days, and all around the hill, a few of the more daring oaks have started sprouting buds and getting ready to unfurl this years leaves.
Around breakfast time, the turkey troop came up onto the hill pecking at the ground. The kitchen window afforded an excellent front row seat, so I sat with my coffee and admired the show.
Though the toms are more flamboyant, the hens also possess iridescent feathers, and break out in unexpected patches of colors sometimes when they move and the light is just so.
The day started getting cloudy, then breaking out into light scattered rain. In between showers, the local birds carried on making a living.
Birds love perching on the kindling and logs around the fire pit in the front of the house when they sweep by to peck around for food.
This is a black phoebe.
The true sign of spring, a robin sitting among the buds of an oak.
Then a thunderstorm blew in, with near constant lightning, and hail suddenly started to fall hard, loud rapping on the metal roof overhead, for about half an hour. Some of the hail was an inch or so in size. Glad I was inside!
Okay, what a day.
Wow. This has been a pretty great critter day, additionally so because I have the new crazy amazing Nikon Coolpix P900 camera up here.
I managed to capture a blue jay during the dawn patrol shift of feeding birds which visit the hilltop here in view of the kitchen windows.
After working all day hauling dirt to make a nice flat spot, I was sitting out under a large oak coppice when the late afternoon patrol of feeding birds flew in to catch some dinner in the trees surrounding the oak.
Maybe a female Yellow-Rumped Warbler?
A male Western Bluebird. This feller looks a little aggravated about something.
A Yellow-Rumped Warbler.
A red-breasted nuthatch.
Being still for a few minutes on a plot of land with no dogs is great. Stuff happens, like this squirrel who came over to some pine trees about 40 feet away from where I was sitting quietly. It went under a pine tree, grabbed a pine cone, put it in its mouth, then climbed the pine tree, where it safely ate the pine nuts out of the cone, then tossed it to the ground and then scrabbled down to the ground and repeated with another pine cone until I stood up and it scampered down the hill. A little later, I saw it at the bottom of the hill, a slash of gray, about 300 feet away and snapped the picture above. Have I mentioned what a cool frikken’ camera this is??
It rained for three days straight, and the wind blew in gusts and sustained driving rushes. In the middle of a pelting wet blow, I see a small bird perched nonchalantly at the top of a waving pine tree. It’s always a marvel at how something so small and lightweight can exist in the sky at all, much less in such a tempest, while even the trees are bent and in some cases cast down.
Boy did a lot of rain fall. All the creeks were flowing like mad.
All the low places were filled with water in puddles and small shallow ponds.
There are a number of oaks in the meadow at the bottom of the hill which are old, but stunted and twisted. After some pondering, it was decided they were victims of a low water table in the meadow, drowning victims.
And yup, each of them were sitting in large bodies of water fed by multiple creeks. In some places at the base of the hill, gopher holes were gushing water, unwitting parts of the land’s drainage system.
It stopped raining yesterday morning, so this morning I went out to burn some brush piles near the cabin.
I was working on a pile of old dead wet manzanita when the temperature started to drop, around 10 degrees in half an hour, and then suddenly it started to snow.
This has been a weird, wet winter.
California is looking plump and green and pleased with itself. On the way up to the cabin, the San Joaquin, Fresno and Merced Rivers had water in them, and every passing lake, pond, creek and reservoir was either full or overflowing.
The creeks are certainly running up here, and sadly, the road up to the cabin needs repair and attention to drainage before the next storm.
It was late afternoon by the time I arrived, and the sky was filled with some of the darkest, most foreboding clouds I’ve seen up here. The slanting sun broke through for a while and illuminated a fantastical, dramatic scene.
Then the rainbow happened.
I laughed out loud when I saw it so unexpected and perfect towards the end of the day. And then, as evening started to fall and the light to drain from the sky, Youngest Daughter’s hummingbird ornaments started to glow.