One more post for today, this time to mention a somber anniversary.
Exactly ten years ago, I got a phone call informing me that my mom had been found dead at home. She would be joined the following year by my dad, who died in a hospital up in Roseville with both sons at his side.
For years afterward, I would often see people who reminded me enough of my mom that I'd do a double-take. That never happened with my dad though.
My initial reaction to the news was an icy kind of shock. I had just gotten back from a photo shoot in Oakland involving the band High On Fire and a bunch of snakes (I provided the snakes, hence my involvement). The snakes were spread around my studio apartment in travel cages (my apartment was small, so all of the snakes lived up at camp), and I remember leaving my snake-filled apartment and driving to my mom's house. I had to confirm that the body was actually hers, and I had to make the hardest phone calls I've ever had to make, to my brother and my dad. I was in too much shock to even cry.
Life goes on for the rest of us though, and suddenly it's ten years later.
Sunday, January 26, 2020
The Hermit Thrush Returns
I saw the Hermit Thrush in the yard again today. I figured I'd mention it because seeing it on the Winter Solstice is what provided the incentive to start posting here again. I don't think it's living in our yard this winter though, because I've only seen it three times since the solstice. The recent daily birds seem to be a pair of California Towhees, a Yellow-rumped Warbler, and an assortment of Robins. A Bewick's Wren visits every once in awhile, as do some House Finches and a Black Phoebe.
I spent the week at our Cupertino site, cramming five days worth of instruction into four days. Or, to be more honest, dispensing with most of my usual lessons and spending more time simply hiking. There was no rain to speak of, and Steven's Creek reservoir is looking low (unlike Lake Ranch reservoir). Piccheti pond is empty as well, although I didn't visit it, preferring instead a long hike past the reservoir and then up to Maisie's peak, which is the highest point in the Fremont Older open space preserve. The view was partially obscured by some low valley fog, with the tops of the east bay hills peeking above it like inscrutable faces above bed sheets.
Willow is here this weekend, and we plan on going out later to hand in her old phone, since she got a new one on her mom's account,which she is paying for herself because she is gainfully employed. It will be nice to have one less bill to pay. There is nothing else on the agenda for today, at least not yet. Jeanine isn't working, so maybe we'll do something later.
Here are a few photos from the week:
An American Robin, bathing in Steven's Creek.
White-breasted Nuthatch.
Nuttall's Woodpecker.
Oak Titmouse.
Golden-crowned Sparrow, appearing to give directions.
I spent the week at our Cupertino site, cramming five days worth of instruction into four days. Or, to be more honest, dispensing with most of my usual lessons and spending more time simply hiking. There was no rain to speak of, and Steven's Creek reservoir is looking low (unlike Lake Ranch reservoir). Piccheti pond is empty as well, although I didn't visit it, preferring instead a long hike past the reservoir and then up to Maisie's peak, which is the highest point in the Fremont Older open space preserve. The view was partially obscured by some low valley fog, with the tops of the east bay hills peeking above it like inscrutable faces above bed sheets.
Willow is here this weekend, and we plan on going out later to hand in her old phone, since she got a new one on her mom's account,which she is paying for herself because she is gainfully employed. It will be nice to have one less bill to pay. There is nothing else on the agenda for today, at least not yet. Jeanine isn't working, so maybe we'll do something later.
Here are a few photos from the week:
An American Robin, bathing in Steven's Creek.
White-breasted Nuthatch.
Nuttall's Woodpecker.
Oak Titmouse.
Golden-crowned Sparrow, appearing to give directions.
Tuesday, January 21, 2020
Coincidence
Sometimes, for fun, I look back at my old posts here, usually in some neatly rounded off increment of time. I just looked back at a post from exactly a decade ago, and discovered that I was listening to the same band that I was listening to earlier this evening.
One would expect this kind of coincidence to involve a favorite band, a band that I listen to often, but this wasn't the case. I don't often listen to Black Tape For A Blue Girl, and don't consider them to be among my absolute favorites, so it's a weird coincidence, but ultimately a meaningless one, I suppose.
One would expect this kind of coincidence to involve a favorite band, a band that I listen to often, but this wasn't the case. I don't often listen to Black Tape For A Blue Girl, and don't consider them to be among my absolute favorites, so it's a weird coincidence, but ultimately a meaningless one, I suppose.
Monday, January 20, 2020
Name Change
I just changed the title of this blog to something more appropriate. The old name, "The Continuation of Life As We Know It", was overlong and kind of weak. I'm not sure why I kept it for nearly 18 years. Actually, I am sure. I have a tendency to accept things as they are, which often reveals itself as a kind of weird complacency.
The new name, "Antisocial Media", isn't so much a criticism of social media (although there are definitely a long list of criticisms that could be leveled at it) as a description of having a "blog" in 2020. If I was writing on parchment with a quill pen, I wouldn't be too much more out of date. I'm under the impression that nobody much reads this (especially after me writing next to nothing for over a year), so it's not like there is any real social element to it.
Also, I do have antisocial tendencies. I'm an introvert. I don't go to parties very often, and I find that as I get older, I'm happier staying at home than going out. I have huge libraries of books, records, and films to entertain me.
These days, when I do go out, it's usually into the wild(ish) places with my camera. Sometimes Jeanine comes along. More often she doesn't. She works on weekends, after all.
The new name, "Antisocial Media", isn't so much a criticism of social media (although there are definitely a long list of criticisms that could be leveled at it) as a description of having a "blog" in 2020. If I was writing on parchment with a quill pen, I wouldn't be too much more out of date. I'm under the impression that nobody much reads this (especially after me writing next to nothing for over a year), so it's not like there is any real social element to it.
Also, I do have antisocial tendencies. I'm an introvert. I don't go to parties very often, and I find that as I get older, I'm happier staying at home than going out. I have huge libraries of books, records, and films to entertain me.
These days, when I do go out, it's usually into the wild(ish) places with my camera. Sometimes Jeanine comes along. More often she doesn't. She works on weekends, after all.
More Blathering About Birds
We're 20 days into 2020 now. As I type, the sky is gray and the heater is on. We had a bit of rain this week, exclusively on the day of the 5.5 hour hike called the "epic journey". I combined my group with another one, into a combined force of over 40 kids, 4 cabin leaders, and 2 field instructors. The dumping rain and the plummeting temperature reduced a portion of the group to shivering misery, so we turned around, did a game inside for awhile (Coyote Dodgeball), and then took advantage of a break in the weather and tried again.
It hailed on us.
Fortunately, this proved to be the most exciting part of the hike for the majority of the kids. We danced as we were pelted by shards of ice.
I had a girl in my group who had arrived from Kenya just last Wednesday. She seemed to know only a few words of English, but the smile she had on her face was evidence that the week was a successful one, as far as she was concerned.
Saturday, I went over to Palo Alto Baylands for a few hours. I missed the Murray Bowles celebration at Gilman St. yesterday, (he passed away last month) and in fact, never left the house (I watched four episodes of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes and listened to music, among other things). Today is Martin Luther King day, so I'm home typing rather than out hiking. The beginning of my work week seems to coincide with more rain.
Here are some photos from the last week.
California Scrub Jay in the garden:
Yellow-rumped Warbler sitting in a tree on the trail we refer to as Ranger Road:
The Red Crossbills were back for a second week in a row, but without the Pine Siskins in tow:
I still don't have a great picture of a Cedar Waxwing, but for now, this will do:
Dark-eyed Juncos are the most common bird at camp, perhaps because they don't seem to mind the presence of people as much as some birds do, and so are less likely to vacate the scene before they're spotted. In fact, it feels like we're constantly in danger of tripping over them.
Tying for the "most common bird" award is the Steller's Jay:
The fire pit, after Thursday's storm:
Female Northern Flicker:
Our resident Red-tailed Hawk has a friend now:
At Palo Alto Baylands, I got photos of a couple of birds I hadn't yet photographed, namely the Canvasback and Greater Scaup.
I've decided to finally start learning the difference between different species of gulls. This is a Ring-billed Gull, I think:
Male and female Common Yellowthroat:
Great Blue Heron:
Bushtit:
A Northern Harrier, uncooperatively being just far enough away so I couldn't get a good shot:
Currently listening to Low "A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-sides & Rarities"
It hailed on us.
Fortunately, this proved to be the most exciting part of the hike for the majority of the kids. We danced as we were pelted by shards of ice.
I had a girl in my group who had arrived from Kenya just last Wednesday. She seemed to know only a few words of English, but the smile she had on her face was evidence that the week was a successful one, as far as she was concerned.
Saturday, I went over to Palo Alto Baylands for a few hours. I missed the Murray Bowles celebration at Gilman St. yesterday, (he passed away last month) and in fact, never left the house (I watched four episodes of The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes and listened to music, among other things). Today is Martin Luther King day, so I'm home typing rather than out hiking. The beginning of my work week seems to coincide with more rain.
Here are some photos from the last week.
California Scrub Jay in the garden:
Yellow-rumped Warbler sitting in a tree on the trail we refer to as Ranger Road:
The Red Crossbills were back for a second week in a row, but without the Pine Siskins in tow:
I still don't have a great picture of a Cedar Waxwing, but for now, this will do:
Dark-eyed Juncos are the most common bird at camp, perhaps because they don't seem to mind the presence of people as much as some birds do, and so are less likely to vacate the scene before they're spotted. In fact, it feels like we're constantly in danger of tripping over them.
Tying for the "most common bird" award is the Steller's Jay:
The fire pit, after Thursday's storm:
Female Northern Flicker:
Our resident Red-tailed Hawk has a friend now:
At Palo Alto Baylands, I got photos of a couple of birds I hadn't yet photographed, namely the Canvasback and Greater Scaup.
I've decided to finally start learning the difference between different species of gulls. This is a Ring-billed Gull, I think:
Male and female Common Yellowthroat:
Great Blue Heron:
Bushtit:
A Northern Harrier, uncooperatively being just far enough away so I couldn't get a good shot:
Currently listening to Low "A Lifetime of Temporary Relief: 10 Years of B-sides & Rarities"
Saturday, January 11, 2020
New Year, New Birds
While leading a tour for the first group of kids to arrive at camp for the new year, a loud group of yellow and red birds descended on the tree near the bathrooms. They proved to be Red Crossbills, which I had only seen once before (the last day of camp before the break, actually), so I ran and got my camera.
The females are more of a yellow color. It's pretty fucking typical that the common name only references the males. The "crossbill" part of their name references their can-opener like bills, used for prying cones apart to get at seeds.
I saw them again later, and then again the next day. There were a few Pine Siskins mixed in with the flock, which was a bonus. On Friday, there was a lone crossbill singing from the top of a tree. I'm not sure if sightings will become a regular occurrence this season, or if the flock will move on.
When the whole flock was up in the fir trees, their voracious eating and poor table (er, branch?) manners resulted in a sound not unlike newly inundated rice crispies,and the sight of a hail of dropped cones. It was also interesting watching them jockey for position along the rain gutter they were using as a trough.
The females are more of a yellow color. It's pretty fucking typical that the common name only references the males. The "crossbill" part of their name references their can-opener like bills, used for prying cones apart to get at seeds.
I saw them again later, and then again the next day. There were a few Pine Siskins mixed in with the flock, which was a bonus. On Friday, there was a lone crossbill singing from the top of a tree. I'm not sure if sightings will become a regular occurrence this season, or if the flock will move on.
When the whole flock was up in the fir trees, their voracious eating and poor table (er, branch?) manners resulted in a sound not unlike newly inundated rice crispies,and the sight of a hail of dropped cones. It was also interesting watching them jockey for position along the rain gutter they were using as a trough.
Saturday, January 04, 2020
Far Away So Close
I'm currently listening to a CD of people meowing. What are you doing with *your* Saturday evening?
Several days into the new year, and our garbage disposal has called it quits. The political situation still sucks, and there is a very real possibility of war heating up again in the middle east, and Australia is on fire. Not that I'm equating the first item with the other ones, but it does illustrate how close-by minor inconveniences often share equal headspace with distant disasters. I'm also not going to complain about the year being off to a shitty start. We live on a continuum, not the discrete chunks of time brutally imposed upon us by calendars and clocks.
Several days into the new year, and our garbage disposal has called it quits. The political situation still sucks, and there is a very real possibility of war heating up again in the middle east, and Australia is on fire. Not that I'm equating the first item with the other ones, but it does illustrate how close-by minor inconveniences often share equal headspace with distant disasters. I'm also not going to complain about the year being off to a shitty start. We live on a continuum, not the discrete chunks of time brutally imposed upon us by calendars and clocks.
Wednesday, January 01, 2020
Roaring Twenties?
A smattering of explosions preceded and followed midnight, eventually trailing off into silence and poor air quality alerts. I hadn't planned to stay up until midnight, but did anyway.
I'm in the middle of reading the 9th Malazan Book of the Fallen novel, Dust of Dreams (I keep wanting to call it Dust of Time, but that's an Angelopoulos film). It's actually so long that it's spread out over two books, each well over a thousand pages in length. I've decided not to do a reading challenge this year because I find that I delay reading longer books in order to inflate my numbers before the end of the year. Maybe I take fun challenges too seriously. It's not like I need a challenge to encourage reading anyway.
I re-watched two films last night, Werner Herzog's Where The Green Ants Dream, and when Jeanine came home, John Carpenter's Halloween II. Strange double feature.
The last bird I saw in 2019 was a California Towhee, and the first bird I saw in 2020 was a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Neither was unexpected.
The first music of the new year is: irr.app.(ext.) "Fiddly Bits 1.x"
Happy New Decade. I wonder if mentally compartmentalizing time makes it seem to go faster. I'm guessing not, if my two weeks off for the holidays are any indication.
I'm in the middle of reading the 9th Malazan Book of the Fallen novel, Dust of Dreams (I keep wanting to call it Dust of Time, but that's an Angelopoulos film). It's actually so long that it's spread out over two books, each well over a thousand pages in length. I've decided not to do a reading challenge this year because I find that I delay reading longer books in order to inflate my numbers before the end of the year. Maybe I take fun challenges too seriously. It's not like I need a challenge to encourage reading anyway.
I re-watched two films last night, Werner Herzog's Where The Green Ants Dream, and when Jeanine came home, John Carpenter's Halloween II. Strange double feature.
The last bird I saw in 2019 was a California Towhee, and the first bird I saw in 2020 was a Yellow-rumped Warbler. Neither was unexpected.
The first music of the new year is: irr.app.(ext.) "Fiddly Bits 1.x"
Happy New Decade. I wonder if mentally compartmentalizing time makes it seem to go faster. I'm guessing not, if my two weeks off for the holidays are any indication.