
…when you find a large dead seal on the beach?
Bark at it. Because of course.
An inquisitive old fart with a camera
General observations, generally during dog walks
…when you find a large dead seal on the beach?
Bark at it. Because of course.
Busy little ants harvesting acacia flowers, with a brief interruption from Jordan.
The other day I saw a hornero nest, broken, on the railing of a walkway through the dunes to the beach. You can see pieces on the ground. Probably broken by a human being of the juvenile variety, it begs a question: how could the hornero birds who built it think this was a good location?
Today I saw this: two hornero nests, side by side. Years ago I was told that horneros used to build their nests with the opening facing east for the morning sun, but with the increase in electromagnetic pollution, they had lost that sense of direction. I don’t know if it’s true, but the opening of the upper nest is pointing north.
When you come out in the morning and realize that *something* has been wandering around on your glass table.
Time has told. Despite the tree now posing no threat, they arrived early this morning to destroy it. Why, I asked. Because orders.
And so, just like that, the end of a tree that sprouted around 1936.
Our neighbor had requested the removal of a dry, dead tree for four years. Yesterday they showed up and removed it (was to the right, half the height of this one) then started cutting branches off this beast. I can’t remember how many times over the years that I heard of a storm approaching, and photographed this tree, expecting to see it on the ground the next day. It had two parrot nests. No parrots were harmed, but a few of them flew around afterwards, squawking loudly (as they always do anyway).
Now that the wind resistance is drastically reduced, the tree should be no threat. Does that mean they’re through with it? Time will tell.
Somebody who obviously doesn’t have a chainsaw has decided that the tree that fell six weeks ago is now their property. Couple days ago a woman, presumably from the house behind, was scrawling on them with a piece of charcoal NO TOCAR LA LEÑA.
Don’t touch the firewood. Long-dead pine that will probably burn like cardboard. OK lady, it’s a deal.
My wife asked me just last night when we get our first frost, and I said usually in June.
First frost of 2022: June 1.
Last year it was July 5.
In 2019 it was July 7.
2018: June 25.
2017: June 20.
2016: June 11.
You can almost feel the ice caps melting.
Long expected, this huge dead tree went down in a windstorm last week, taking with it a parrot nest. I saw one dead parrot, and of course there could be several more.
The tree had a double trunk. One side fell on one side of the power pole, and one side on the other. But the power line was still there! How was that possible?
It took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out that the power company had already been out to repair the line: note the shiny new clamps on the darker pole….
The rest of the harvest from my strange volunteer hybrid squash plants that grew out of a non-compost bin.