mother nature

Respecting Nature’s Boundaries

A fight broke out on the adjacent hillside, just after daybreak. The animals’ movements were cloaked by dense chapparel, but their battle cries echoed through the canyon. First, the bark-howl of a surprised coyote, followed closely by the low pitched, guttural growls of a bobcat (similar to, but more robust than a domestic cat). It seemed to me a territorial dispute, which the coyote apparently won, because as the bobcat’s angry yowls faded, the coyote’s yip-howls got louder.

As if on cue, a stranger rolled up in his late-model sports car. I watched from my picture window as he rushed out of the drivers’ side door, cell phone poised for snapshots. His timing was impeccable, from his point of view, but he apparently left his common sense at home.

“Here, boy,” the man called out, as he inched his way into the bushes where the coyote was singing his victory song. He responded to the yip-howls with kissing noises. “Come,” he said, followed by whistles, ignoring completely the coyote’s territorial warning as he advanced. 

When nature refused to answer his beck and call, the man threw up his hands and retreated. As I watched him climb back into his convertible, I couldn’t help but wonder how far removed from nature we sometimes are, to assume a scene from nature begins and ends with us.

(I didn’t want to encroach on the coyote’s territory with my camera, so I offer you instead a zoomed-in photograph of a hummingbird who helps stitch together the wildflowers on the hillside and the cultivars in my garden.)

World Wildlife Day 2019: #DoOneThingToday for #LifeBelowWater

This year, for the first time ever, World Wildlife Day is turning the spotlight on “Life Below Water.”

You know already that I’m a nature girl. Whether I’m posting photos of hummingbirds  or harbor seals, I love sharing with you the treasures that come into view when I slow my roll and zoom the camera a little closer.  No surprise, then, I’m happy to promote this landmark occasion. Such a wonderful opportunity to celebrate biodiversity with the global community!

Is it possible to transform this one-day fete into something even more powerful and sustainable? I think so. We can support ocean-friendly legislation, while also giving license to our own imaginations. As the WWD suggests: “Every person’s small actions add up to a much larger solution – making the difference between a species surviving or disappearing forever. Just #DoOneThingToday to make a difference and help wildlife conservation.”

I invite you, dear readers, to consider your daily lifestyle choices, and the myriad ways they impact marine animals and their habitats. What mindless habits can we change, to affect positive change? Think: self-awareness, not sharp rebukes.  Can we give up plastic straws and bottled water? Bypass single-use packaging and toxic chemicals, in favor of organically grown, locally sourced produce? Join beach cleanup crews and carry away our own garbage? Let’s make a pact to  choose at least one new way of doing things. Each one, teaching one, showing by example our shared commitment. When multiplied by all the participants in #WWD (including you), we can make a whale of a difference!  It’s a gift to ourselves, really, given that we are all interconnected, and very much dependent on a healthy ocean.

Hope as antidote for suffering

Very few Monarch eggs survive to adulthood–mortality rates hover in the range of 90% or even higher! And still, the female Monarch lays new eggs every day–an average of 500 in her lifetime.

I’ve learned to respect Mother Nature’s ways, even when I don’t fully understand them. Even so, I do what I can to help offset those seemingly insurmountable odds. It’s how I’m wired, I guess. I’ve replaced our thirsty grass with drought-tolerant milkweed and nectar plants. I shield their nursery from weather extremes, and I guard against aphids and pesticide overspray, carried into my garden on ocean breezes.

Here, the story of Hope itself: struggles, persistence, endurance.

Helen Keller once said, “Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.” We see this in our daily lives: hurricanes, flooding, wildfires, diseases, natural and man-made disasters. A microcosm of this truth is borne out everyday, in my little Monarch Waystation.

Because I’ve witnessed firsthand their potential for suffering, I appreciate each wriggling, hungry little caterpillar as a marvel unto itself.

Because I’ve wept over the sweeping losses caused by predators, I greet with joy each new chrysalis–perfectly shaped jewel boxes, housing secret transformations within.

And the metamorphosis of a microscopic, pearlescent egg into this Monarch butterfly? Nothing short of a miracle.

#BeLikeFreckles

Life isn’t a pailful of herring, you know. Not for Freckles the harbor seal, any more than it is for the rest of us.

Not for nothing does Freckles have this spindle-shaped sleekness. He forages the Pacific Ocean for hours at a time every day, grabbing snacks on the go because he’s also got to keep an eye out for predators. Manmade dangers, too–like gill nets and ship propellers.

Freckles navigates rough waters every day, so no surprise! When he finally hauls ashore, he’s exhausted. But as leader of this pinniped posse, it also falls to Freckles to defend their onshore habitat.

You might be wondering: How does he manage? 

Look deep into those liquid brown eyes, and you’ll find your answer. There’s wisdom in that sleepy-eyed gaze of his, not fear. He’s been around the tide pools a few times, our Freckles. He’s earned every one of those grey spots. 

He’s not afraid to go nose-to-nose with his problems, but he also knows when and how to chill.

You’d never guess, for instance, that he’d just squared off with Clancy, the interloper up front. Once Freckles laid down the ground rules, he nestled himself into the algae-softened rocks again, angled strategically between his long time friends and this brazen newcomer.  Peaceable kingdom, restored.

That’s how Freckles rolls. He just takes care of business, tra la la, and then settles in for another nap. 

We could all take some cues from Freckles, now couldn’t we? Tuned in, blissed out…finding our happy place, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves. 

Rainy days and Mondays, included.

On the morning after Donald Trump became the GOP’s presumptive nominee

Be still, and the world is bound to turn herself inside out to entertain you. Everywhere you look, joyful noise is clanging to drown out quiet desperation. –Barbara Kingsolver

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This handsome hummingbird made his presence known while I was sitting in my backyard this morning, savoring a steaming mug of coffee. With a flash of his red gorget, he somehow managed to pull me away from the hyperbolic headlines and to notice, instead, the beauty that surrounds me.

When he preened, his gorget flipped. Voilà: Bozo the Clown.  Tend to the things that matter, he seemed to say, but never lose your sense of humor.

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Fight or flight? Given the stakes in this election, I see only one choice. But first, I had to get quiet. We do our best work, I think, when we’re attuned to nature’s beauty, and to the joyful noises all around us.

The KKK rally in Anaheim, Part II: What was I thinking?

Whether or not they supported the counter-protest (or read my takeaways from that event), a handful of people expressed real concerns about my having attended the KKK rally in Anaheim. Some talked to me privately; still others confronted me outright. What on earth were you thinking?  It seems so out of character, they said.

I disagreed. It’s all of a piece, I said, and I invited them to look a little deeper. I’ll answer those questions here (as often as you’d like…), if you’ll permit me to come at them sideways.

We are multi-faceted beings, every one of us. I’m captivated by Mother Nature’s most exquisite creations, but–and–I also have within my heart an innate desire to cradle “the least of them,” within and beyond my own garden gates.

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I watch hummingbirds out my kitchen window every morning, see them wage fierce battles mid-air, iridescent wings shimmering in the afternoon sun as they chase away intruders. Inspired by their courage, I run outside, flailing my arms as I shout, “Shoo! Go away!” to the murder of crows on the neighboring hillside.

I’m swept away by a robin’s song, and I carry within my heart an anthem: Cheer cheer, cheerily, cheer up…change is gonna come.  

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I twist the lens until the mourning dove comes into focus, and use Lightroom to scrub the poop plops on the fence. It’s more pleasant that way, don’t you think?

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When the water shortage deepened, we replaced our backyard sod with drought-friendly flowers, all of which attract butterflies, honeybees, and songbirds. It’s a small space, and our switchover to drip irrigation isn’t going to refill the aquifers.  But it helps prevent runoff from polluting our ocean, and it’s more than enough to fill the birdbaths again every morning.

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Between the lavender and penstemon, we’ve planted this sign. It’s an honor to be designated as a Monarch Waystation, in recognition of the work we’re doing to help support the earth and her inhabitants. Bare minimum, it’s a conversation piece. Each one, teach one. We learn from each other.

Exactly one week after the KKK rally, I plant milkweed seeds with my little friend Sara. It’s in short supply now, due to overzealous pesticide applications and misguided/misinformed land management practices.  The consequences are devastating: Since milkweed’s the sole food source for monarch caterpillars, and the only plant on which monarch butterflies lays its egg, the monarch population has plummeted. We’re doing our part to help save these winged beauties from the threat of extinction.

I know from experience (and the parable of the sower) that the things we sow don’t always take root and grow. Even so, as we tuck tiny seeds into peat pockets, I say a silent benediction: Let hope be renewed, and peace be restored, within our own hearts and the habitats we share. And I remember, then as always, the African proverb: “When you pray, move your feet.”

Long answer made short?

This is how it feels to work together on behalf of something bigger than ourselves–something that has potentially positive effects, on our own lives and that of future generations.

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Art Challenge of the week: LOVE

Once upon a time, a consortium of artisans (poets, musicians, artists, and the like) tried to translate this complex emotion into words. But as someone wise once said, the language of love has many dialects.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, our Art Challenge theme o’ the week is (cue the harp music) LOVE. And lucky me, I get to host it.

Here, an opportunity to translate your own thoughts into images, using your favorite art form(s) and media. I enjoy photography, so I’ll be working with my camera. But Art Challenges are for all-comers. Painting, sewing, drawing, cooking…express your creativity any way you like, so long as you share your finished work in pictures.

Let your imagination run free! Picture yourself and your beloved, for instance, doing something that sparks your inner passions. (Hint: It doesn’t have to be romantic.)

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LOVE isn’t all chocolate and roses, although it could be. It can be sweet as these hummingbird hatchlings, in a cottony-soft nest…

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Or as absurd as this peacock, oblivious to its surroundings.

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LOVE can be dangerous at times, and prickly.

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Clingy or trusting? Reveal to us your vantage point, in literal or figurative ways.

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There are countless approaches you might take, when it comes to this theme o’ the week. No rules;  limitless boundaries. But may I offer you one suggestion? Leave no stone unturned in your quest for LOVE!

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One last thing: Be sure to link your project to the blog entry I post this Friday.

Note: This Art Challenge is not a contest, and you most certainly don’t need to be a pro to participate. This is art for its own sake, no judgment or restrictions. So c’mon, share the love.

Monarch Butterflies are overwintering in Orange County, California

When we stopped by last Saturday, Leslie Gibson was pruning her butterfly garden, pausing now and again to introduce her Monarch caterpillars to curious passersby. A former puppeteer and special education teacher, it was this gentle but intrepid woman who led the charge to restore Huntington Beach’s Gibbs Park to its former beauty, and to reimagine it as a Monarch Waystation and overwintering site.

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“Our Monarchs are hanging out in Central Park Library Amphitheater this year,” Leslie told us when we visited. A handful of butterfly scouts hovered around Gibbs Park earlier in the fall, but they found the grove less hospitable than in previous years, given a tree-trimming crew had removed their sheltering branches.

We were glad for Leslie’s tip–happy, too to find ourselves among nature lovers of all ages. Such a rare and magical experience, to see this final stage of a butterfly’s metamorphosis in progress! We raised and answered questions amongst ourselves, and snapped lots of photos. And yes, we were also transformed, each in our own ways, by the miracles we’d witnessed.

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For instance: When Monarchs undergo their egg-to-butterfly metamorphosis someplace West of the Rockies, they tend to overwinter along the California coast. Their migration patterns lead them to standing groves of eucalyptus trees, Monterey pines and cypress. Unless you know where to look, you might not see them–with their colorful orange wings folded inward, they’re well camouflaged by variegated tree bark and pointed leaves. In fact, we served as ad hoc docents on more than one occasion, pointing out the butterfly clusters to those who happened upon the eucalyptus grove during a serendipitous walk through the park.

Overwintering Monarchs are typically sluggish, as you can easily see in the picture below. Their inactivity serves as camouflage in this, more vulnerable state.

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But when the sun comes out, they unfurl their wings and gradually drift away from the cluster, like flower petals in the breeze.

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Subtle flutterings that eventually become a riot of color.

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A magic trick of the highest order, it carries your breath away.

In the lower branches, we saw a handful of butterflies that sported a Monarch Alert tag. Such was the case with this lovely specimen, released just yesterday by a charming little girl for whom raising the Monarch population is an ongoing backyard project.

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Three to five generations of Monarch butterflies are born every spring and summer. Most will survive for just a few weeks. Some of you might remember that I was lucky enough to record this metamorphosis in real time, in my own backyard.

This last generation of 2015 will live upwards of 8 months. They typically mate in early spring, when the life cycle begins anew.

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I’d like to think that “my” Monarchs found themselves among the group that migrates to overwintering sites in California and Mexico. In any case, I feel privileged to have witnessed firsthand this magical phenomenon, nearby and easily accessible!

El Niño’s going to be dropping some serious rain this week, so the Monarchs will probably hunker down. Or hang loose, as some locals might say. (This is Surf City, USA we’re talking about, after all….) I’ll wait out the storms, same as the Monarchs, but when the sun reappears, I’ll make my way back to the eucalyptus groves, and to the Butterfly garden in Gibbs Park. If it’s not too far to travel, I hope see you there!

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