Life and death in the Bird Park

Lots of commotion in the Bird Park this morning after a hawk burst out of a tree. By the keen lament that followed, I'd say she managed to grab one of the quail. Currently, a couple of large families spend a lot of time here. These guys scurry after one another in a constant effort to stay together. They define the tight-knit family. The youngsters even nap cuddled in row touching, as their parents keep watch. So this morning the family huddled beneath the lilac bush and mourned and we mourned with them, coffee cups in hand, watching through the window, knowing somewhere the hawk was feeding her children, and that was good, but taking no pleasure in any of it.


Quail dust bath party, 2006

Thornburg Canyon

I'm beat. We did an eight hour hike in the Sierra today, eleven miles over a 2500 ft. elevation gain. That's slow but I don't care. It's not like I punch a time clock in the forest. Today's destination was a saddleback at 8400 ft located at the top of Thornburg Canyon. Great views of valleys and mountains beyond mountains. Even a cobalt blue lake nestled in a far away forest. I found some petrified wood along the ridge, a generally unfriendly place for trees given the beating of wind and weather, but who knows what conditions were like there a million years ago? I picked up four chunks but on our way down gave one to a mammoth tree under which we stopped to rest. This tree must have been at least thousand years old itself and still robust. It is an honor to take shelter of a being who has witnessed the passing of so many centuries. I felt very safe and extremely small, like a firefly. Photos to follow but at the moment I am lying on the bed with my laptop ... winding down ... listening to crickets .... looking forward to sleep.

After five

Tonight, having written nothing new, all I have for today is a fragment from a notebook sitting nearby.

Photo source: Trevor's Blog

half in
half out
turning around
to better see
who
what
I am becoming
or is that you
coming after
consuming me
as I go?

Insane

Seattle walkabout, part 4

Fisherman's Terminal - Salmon Bay, Seattle

The docks at Fisherman Terminal   were home briefly in my twenties.
It wasn't a good time in my life

so during our recent trip to Seattle

I had to visit the place again,

put old ghosts to rest or perhaps

bring them home.

They are welcome with me.

"Glorified One" by Leo Kenney
Taken at Seattle Art Museum, July '08

Salon mouseover madness

Slate has published a very cool mouseover diagramming the roles a few people in the Bush Administration played in five of the many high crimes and misdemeanors committed during the Republican reign of terror. It's fun, in a gallows humor kind of way. Check it out.


Slate mouseover crimes and misdemeanors Bush Gonzales Cheney

Dog years

See it? Don't miss it.

Synopsis: "Ben 39, Leo, castrated mongrel needs love, G.S.O.H essential."


DOG YEARS


Link to Dog Years 2. "It's definitely a dog day afternoon for one mutt who gets a surprise visit from his vet's finger."

Official Dog Years site here.

Sink hole

Whew! I thought my camera died this morning but this test photo confirms otherwise. I did, however, fail the first maxim of troubleshooting. Always begin at the simplest, most obvious point. After much mucking about, M. Lee came in, pulled the battery and reseated it. Thank you, Mr. Lee.

And it's not just me that gets in a cluster fuck over thinking things. I knew a guy who drove himself beyond despair wrestling with a fucked up computer. He couldn't, wouldn't, take a break and come back fresh the next day. He had wrestled with it for three long days by the time I dropped by. I can take no credit for solving the problem. It was pure luck and, in fact, it even seemed to make matters worse when I happened to notice that the damn thing was just switched off.


But sadly, half way through the year, I have blown my New Year's resolution to keep my office organized. My other desk is in no better shape. In fact, I am surrounded by desks and they are all cluttered. This is very bad. My office is a sink hole. I had a little reprieve in Seattle but the minute we got back home, I fell into my old ways, go to Huffpo and comment, check my blog stats, back to Huffpo, comment, Daily Kos, stats, tinker with photos, stats, blog post, stats, email, stats... It was so much easier in Seattle. I actually made some progress on a poem I've been working on for a while. I am in big fat RUT. When I'm alone, I'm in bad company. Set it here. Lay it there. Pick it up in a minute. Lies. All lies. And I fall for it every time. I hope that when, if, we go to Central America this fall, I will shake off some of this crust. When all else fails, travel.

Lonesome George

We're home from Seattle to Lonesome George calling from the rooftop. I've never mentioned him before, though I've meant to. Lonesome George is the one poor fellow who does not have a mate this year. He spends a lot of time on the rooftops calling out over the valley while the quail couples wiggle and snuggle in their dirt baths below. The one mitigating thought I have is that Lonesome George could fly away and win a mate somewhere else if he wanted to. Perhaps he likes his home more? It is pretty sweet between Dwayne's giant, sprawling willow tree of life and the Bird Park. It is good to be home.

Frank and Sukie

I couldn't resist teasing Frank and Sukie with toast the other morning but they know I'll succumb to their charms and share bites so are quite willing to play along with the game.

UPDATE: I did an annotated version if this video but it only plays on YouTube.


Tasty bites

Seattle seagull french fry party

Seagulls love french fries and I like feeding them. Together we make a perfect loop.



UPDATE:
As Don mentioned in the comments, the party's at Ivar's. I should have included that. So go there. The seagulls are waiting.

Seattle walkabout, part 1

Seattle hillside in the spring.

The dogs and us are finally settled into something of a routine here in Seattle. We have become a tight little pack taking lots of walks and even a few rides in the car for good measure. That's the high point, even for Frank who, I am told, doesn't generally like going in the car. We are flattered. Plus M. Lee and I have managed to take long walks on our own nearly every day, mile upon winding mile, so here are a few more photos from those.

Seattle Public Library. I've posted photos of both their weird escalator art and the delicious red hallway during other visits here. They are part of my regular loop. The face in the elevator was not particularly welcoming but I took her picture anyway.

Also, this rust stain on the sidewalk in Chinatown caught my eye. It looked like a forlorn ghost which made me think of my grandfather who used to live in this neighborhood during the final days of his alcoholic life.

Then this hotel lobby also seemed haunted. Perhaps my grandfather stayed here from time to time during those last sad years, when he could afford a room. In my mind's eye, I could see him carefully descending the stair, hand on the railing, briefcase in hand, going out into the day to sell ballpoint pens from from it. Five for a dollar. We used to correspond occasionally.Perhaps a letter from me was waiting for him behind the desk when he came back in the evening.

You gonna eat all that?

But none of this seems to occur to Suki or Frank. Dogs are good company for a melancholic like me.