Today Instagram meets _americanature_

The iPhone has entered my life and taken control. I've had it for about two years now. What an amazing device to be able to carry around: it's a computer; it's a camera; it's a device connected to the infinite Internet... 

...and apps... and social media... and it's always with me. So, it does almost everything this blog can do. Only in a much easier way. 

So, it's no wonder Instagram has stolen the thunder of the americanature blog. This is my first post here since January, but I've had numerous since then on Instagram. 

I've been using it like this medium, to capture photographs and videos of things that make me laugh, things that make me go "hmm", mostly related to America, Americana, and things that inspire me from nature. Kind of like this site. 

I've decided it's time to change my Instagram handle to _americanature_. I've linked this blog in the profile. I will likely continue to post film camera images to this page; and of course, post iPhone 5s photos to Instagram, but some crossover will occur. 

What Instagram can't do is allow me to type with a full keyboard. And it can't convey the effect of some film photographs the way that I prefer to convey them here, with a full screen on which to view them. 

I think people change their Instagram handles all the time, but it seems like a big deal to me for some reason.

If you don't have a smart phone, or aren't on Instagram, you can check out my Instagram profile and posts here: 
https://www.instagram.com/_americanature_/

The change is made!

The Valley Oak near us

Nearby Valley Oak, from our San Rafael backyard.

The valley oak (Quercus lobata) that grows within view of our backyard towers high over the block. Here, a tuft of passing storm cloud gives it a timeless backdrop. This cloud is sweeping from right to left, as the wavelike pattern on its top edge might indicate. This was during our first rain event of the fall, about two months ago. (And the blaze of color is thanks to this being the 37th frame on a 36-exposure roll of film.)

We are lucky to live in a microclimate warm enough for the valley oak to tolerate. Where we lived until August last year, in Tamalpais Valley, just on the other side of the 2,572-foot-tall Mount Tamalpais, it was too cool and fog-influenced for this species. That was less than 7 miles away, but as the name implied, it was in a valley, which tends to trap cooler air. This was noticeable in the summer, when fog would sometimes roll in from the nearby Pacific by 4pm on summer days--if it was sunny at all.

Here, in San Rafael, we and our neighbors own window-unit air conditioners that stay very busy in July and August; but we get to enjoy the presence of the valley oak. This tree can rise to a height over 100 feet, and boast a trunk over six feet thick. According to my naturalist friend Josiah, the valley oaks in the area are the reason that we frequently enjoy a pair of white-breasted nuthatches visiting our backyard. This, too, is a species that would be nearly unthinkable to see in Tam Valley.

For my birthday last year, my friend Mike gave me the excellent Oaks of California (Cachuma Press, 1991). This paperback is a wonderful guide for those interested in California's oak diversity, wildlife associated with oaks, indigenous peoples' use of oaks, and where to find the eight oaks of California. I recommend it for anyone (even if not in California) interested in the overall majesty of the oak.

When I first received this book, I had little knowledge of the valley oak or where it lived. I had no idea I'd be able to see one from my backyard in a year. I longed to see what was described in the passage below, quoted on page 11 of the book. It was written by surveyor William Brewer in 1861:

First I passed through a wild canyon, then over hills covered with oats, with here and there trees -- oaks and pines. Some of these oaks were noble ones indeed. How I wish one stood in our yard at home. ... I measured one, with wide and spreading and cragged branches, that was 26.5 feet in circumference. Another had a diameter of over six feet, and the branches spread over 75 feet each way. I lay beneath its shade a little while before going on.

In our neighborhood, redwood and sequoia trees have also been planted. I imagine they were planted by those inspired by seeing them in regions of California where they take on their full majesty. Here, they are wind-pruned and stunted. The only giant here is the valley oak.

Summer in Review

Summer 2015 has been busy. So, this blog has been a little quiet for several months. Here's a brief review of the summer's events.

June: Drive to Washington State...

Redding, CA. Despite the name, we didn't stay here. We stayed at the Thunderbird down the street, and it served us just fine. We rolled in at 2am with no reservation; they were dog-friendly and the room was clean.

Heavenly Donuts, Redding, CA. The donuts were heavenly, the breakfast bagel was not.

...to get married (photo: Jenny Jimenez).

Hanging out with family for a few days in La Conner.

Kiket island, low tide, June 2015.

 Brief Ritchlips Road Trip (a few more photos here on Instagram).

Ice for sale (for beer and fish), Nordland/Marrowstone, WA. Across the street from this is one of the most comprehensive and well displayed General Stores I've ever visited.

Former site of the Elwha dam, a must-see destination for restoration tourists like ourselves. This is the largest dam removal site in US history.

Enormous driftwood at South Beach, Olympic National Park.

July: Back home with visitor Mabel.

Special visitors from ABQ.

August: Back to Work. The ring holds up to gardener work.

Go hang out in Canada for a week.

Yes, we had our limousine driver stop at McDonald's. The good times were only beginning!

This is a screen shot from my iPhone, which counts your steps. The lull in the middle of this graph represents our time at Balsam Lake. I wasn't as much of a sloth as it appears -- I just didn't have my phone with me, or on, most of the time. I think the spike was the day that Andrew, Lila, and I went to the Blue Jays game and kicked around Toronto.

Late August: Move. 

Original reservation with U-Haul: check out truck at 8am, return by 9pm. Reality: We returned the truck at 6:56am after pulling an all-nighter of packing as we moved. Lessons were learned!

Now, it's late September, our new place is still on a room-by-room basis, but we're happy here. Fairly regular (?) posts from americanature will resume. I've been having fun with instagram, too.

Tellima grandiflora, depth of field

Tellima grandiflora (with a visitor), Miwok Trail, Marin County, February 2015.

 Tellima grandiflora, or fringecups, is one of the gems of Marin County's native flora. Like many, it shows itself in the spring, adding color that is easily overlooked to the woodland understory and streambanks. But upon closer study, one notices a transition in color from the base of the panicle (flower spike) to the top; looking closer, one can see delicate fringes on the tips of its petals. It's kind of a marvel. It is the kind of thing that makes me wonder -- why? Why the detail? Does this help this plant survive somehow? Maybe it doesn't matter; beauty is subjective. But, perhaps it has made it this far in the face of so deleterious a species as the human being because of its beauty. Perhaps it will help save woodlands and streambanks from the pressures we put on their native ecosystem types.

Then again, maybe its beauty has led to it being planted elsewhere in the world, outside of its native range. And, maybe now, like other plants that have performed similar feats, it has become invasive somewhere and loathed by native plant community defenders elsewhere in the world. I am pleased that a quick google for "tellima grandiflora invasive" only yielded results indicating that fringecups is a desired plant that must be saved from invasives. 

At any rate, when I encountered a few individuals of this species on the Miwok Trail a few miles from my house, I was faced with a challenge. I only had one lens -- a 90mm. But I wanted to get as close to the flower as possible. I got a few individuals from many angles. On the one below, I took four separate shots and changed the focus as I stood above it. I started at the bottom and began focusing my way up the top. Light was limited and I had no tripod, so I needed to keep my shutter speed no slower than 1/60 second. So I opened up my aperture all the way and embraced my narrow depth of field (could that be a metaphor for something?).

Then, after developing my film and receiving my photos on CD from Photoworks SF,  I combined the four images into an animated.gif with the free software PhotoScape. (The animation repeats continuously.)

Tellima DOF GIF, Marin County, February 2015.

For the full length HD link to PBS' documentary adaptation of Michael Pollan's The Botany of Desire -- click here.

Glitterpoop at Oakwood Valley

Watch out, Beardog! That's glitterpoop!

It makes me chuckle to think that there is a person out there who does this. He or she embarks on their regular hike at Oakwood Valley with a glitter dispenser and a keen eye for rogue dog poops. Those that catch his or her eye get a little sprinkle. 

I have only seen this here, on this particular Marin County trail, and I have seen it done for a few years. 

Is this:

1) A citizen's arrest of sorts, calling out irresponsible dog owners who don't tend their pets' excrement?

2) art/protest?

3)  another form of littering?

You decide. 

Cool Yard Mushrooms

In response to the rain from two weeks ago, a couple of cool mushrooms have popped up in the yard.

Catey discovered this one, growing in a dirt scrape under our front porch where Beardog often prefers to hang out. It is probably one of the cooler places of our yard, but always dry. I think this mushroom is still emerging and may have to wait to identify it. The closest I can come up with is shaggy mane, Coprinus comatus. 

Next up, emerging under a pine in our yard which had a small crop of these two years ago, is what I believe is Amanita muscaria. 

It will also be fun to watch this one mature, providing the squirrels or skunks don't get to it again. The reddish color should intensify and it should continue to have white spots. This is a famous mushroom.

Per Wikipedia:

"In remote areas of Lithuania Amanita muscaria has been consumed at wedding feasts, in which mushrooms were mixed with vodka." Sounds like quite a party!

UPDATE, 2/24:

I think they were both the same species, 

Amanita muscaria. One was eaten at the base of the stalk, and died. The other burgeons beautifully. 

Odd dew on Poppies -- My first iPhone post

OK, a new era has truly begun as I sit here and post from my new iPhone.  After only a few weeks of ownership, this thing is changing my life. Catey just pointed this out, with a chuckle, as I sent her a web address I wanted to share with her via text message, no words spoken. (Would one consider this "over the Internet and through the room"?)

What does this mean for americanature? 

1. More frequent posts, most likely. 

2, Possibly some strange formatting and careless grammar. 

3. More reliance on digital photos. But I will continue to shoot film and post selected photos here, as previously. 

The above image shows a strange occurrence that has taken place on the poppies in our planter box lately. Each of the leaflets has tiny droplets on them. It may be hard to see this in the photo, but I did my best. 

I assume this is a method the plant has of regulating moisture, but I can't imagine why. We are in a record warm spell, and despite December rains heavy enough to cause widespread flooding, the winter has been very dry. These plants. Like the rest of our backyard natives, receive occasional dish rinse water, but have not lately; their soil is very dry. 

Any ideas out there as to what this phenomenon might be?

A New Decade, tiny mushrooms, time and knowledge.

Thank you, family and friends, near and far, for ringing in my 40s with me over the past weekend. It feels different than I thought it would. I don't feel old. I just feel here. I enjoy each new day more than the last, just as I did in my teens, twenties, thirties. So why would I not want to get older? (We have no choice anyway!)

As days continue, I hope to appreciate small things; accept all outcomes; validate all those with whom I interact; be confident in myself; continue to strengthen my partnership with Catey; and I look forward to more shared experiences with family, hers and mine. 

Here's a picture of a tiny mushroom from my last roll of film. (See the tiny one? Look up and left, into the shadows, and find an even tinier one). These guys showed up on the pear tree in our backyard after the first rains. We hope this doesn't mean bad things for the tree...but it may. But it means good things for the mushroom (which, by the way, I am unable to identify). Because the mushroom is a fruiting body, it is merely a small expression of the entire living organism. It's like an acorn on an invisible tree of mycelia, in a way. The mycelia are alive throughout the tree.

Tiny mushroom on pear, December 2014.

Life comes in so many forms, and we, as humans, have the ability, more than any other form, to appreciate and understand so many of the others. It takes a lifetime to even begin to learn about all the stuff out there, and we spend so much time focused on the Human World. It wasn't so long ago that humans were much closer connected to nature. I think it's important to maintain that connection, at the very least to respect that it's complicated out there. And, know or like it or not, we need lots of things to work out there for our own survival to continue.

With the heavy rain we had in the Bay Area last month, mushrooms have been appearing. I grabbed All that the Rain Promises, and More off my shelf and have been using it to identify a few mushrooms out there, just for fun. My new coworkers at San Francisco Recreation and Parks have taken on the challenge collectively, on our lunch breaks. We've made a few spore prints in our break room.  

This is a hilarious book: the photographs would be enough, but the narrative adds to it. And, if you read closely enough, you'll find some philosophy in this book. I read one of the passages about collecting boletes, or Porcini, mushrooms. There is an essay about Italian-American mushroom hunters. They are old, know the land, and are very slow and methodical at their craft. They are secretive about their locations. The essay calls attention to a way of life that is quite un-American. The definition of success, in the eyes of the Old World mushroom collector, is, by the end of your life, to have lots of time, and lots of knowledge. 

It was a fitting idea to ponder on my 40th.

Many tiny mushrooms on pear, December 2014.

Many tiny mushrooms on pear, December 2014.

I have been getting up too early

Fog condensed on Lonicera hispidula, November 2014.

Bay Area Fall Color: Madia and Anaphalis

The faded stalks and flower parts of this year's non-native wild oats (Avena sp.) serve as a blurry context to the green and yellow coast tarweed (Madea sativa) in this photograph. It was a windy day, and I used a tripod to stabilize the camera to create the blurry effect of the loose grasses. Since that was the effect I desired, I stopped down the aperture to allow a longer exposure.

The tarweed was growing vibrantly, its stiff stems resisting the same breeze that tossed around the grass stalks. This was on the Alta Trail, GGNRA, just uphill from Marin City, where a Best Buy just went out of business, and a now Halloween superstore seasonally squats. 

Tarweed and oats, Alta Trail (Marin), Fall 2014.

Here's a closeup of the tarweed itself.  This particular individual had a special symmetry to it. In general on this plant, I think the toothed petal tips are interesting.The black flower centers are loaded with seed to collect starting in October, if one can tolerate getting the sticky tar on one's fingers while extracting them. That tar gives the unopened flower on this plant its glistening appearance. 

Madia sativa closeup, Alta Trail (Marin), August 2014.

A few days prior, I had mountain biked home down the Julian Fire Road, the section of the Coastal Trail connecting Conzelman and Bunker Roads. This is a treat, rolling down toward the ocean, really only hearing wrentits, wind, and crunching gravel; sometimes seeing a bobcat on the lowest portion near the historic fire range. It is a treat that must be paid for in sweat and hard breathing. San Francisco and Marin Cyclists know the name Conzelman to be synonymous with exertion.

On that ride, I stopped to capture a picture of pearly everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea), shown below. This is another fall favorite, found across most of North America. It's named after its pearly white flower clusters, which remain into the winter and spring than one might expect. 

Pearly everlasting, Coastal Trail, August 2014.

This roll of film is proof that it may be better not to use old film that has been sitting in a garage for nearly a decade. It was free, yes, but seems to have literally lost its luster. In some ways, it's a cool effect (one may even call it "old-school"), but given the choice, I would opt for rich color. 

I hope you enjoy these two California native plants.

Different Views of Ivanpah Solar Energy Facility

Ivanpah Solar Energy Facility (from the northwest), April 2014.

Back in May of this year, I posted a photograph that I shot out of the window of the plane I had taken on my way into Las Vegas. At the time I didn't know what it was called, nor had I been able to locate it on Google Earth.

Well, I got the roll developed from the way home, and that revealed I'd taken another photo of it. So, that led me to decide that I needed to learn more about this place. 

Through my membership with the California Native Plant Society, I should have been able to figure out that this 1,600-acre facility is one that has been under discussion and debate for some time now. Actually, that particular debate is finished, since the facility, called Ivanpah Solar Energy Facility, is now in operation. But the overall debate continues to intensify.

Renewable energy has been coming face-to-face with conservation in California, especially in the public (BLM) lands of the desert, and CNPS has been trying to give a voice to the ancient plant communities that can be impacted when facilities like this are built on otherwise pristine land. Aside from plants, wildlife such as tortoises, bats, and birds (see articles below) are impacted, studies are showing.

Ivanpah as viewed out the plane window (from the east/northeast), April 2014.

The human population continues to grow. The UN expects that our current 7.0 billion population will exceed 9.6 billion by 2050. Much of this population, as it has been since the industrial revolution, will live in large urban centers. No doubt, we need to find ways to create power other than the pollutive and non-renewable coal- and gas-burning power plants; or nuclear, which despite being highly productive, generates wastes with no clearly acceptable long-term disposal plan.

When I first heard that California was committed to providing its utility customers up to 33% renewable energy by the year 2020, I was excited. But, through economic incentives to large power companies, the promise of jobs, and the view that solar energy is clean, Ivanpah represents the form it's taking.

We must find ways to generate power in cities, where people need it. We also must find new ways to conserve energy. If we must build large-scale renewable energy plants, let's do it on land that's already disturbed; if done on private land, it can be used to increase the local county's tax base. (An old car sales lot in Albuquerque comes to mind...)

Click here for a closer look at some of the 300,000 mirrors that reflect light to the steam boilers.

Here is an aerial view of the world at night, compiled by our friends at Blue Marble. The map is centered near Las Vegas. This gives one an idea where the power from Ivanpah is going.

Scientific American, August 2014
Solar Farms Threaten Birds

AP, August 2014
Emerging solar plants scorch bird in mid-air

Desert Sun, April 2014
Birds going up in smoke at Ivanpah Solar Project

And finally, an optimistic video from BrightSource Energy released in September 2013:
Ivanpah: a Compilation

What to do about it? A few organizations -- California Native Plant Society, Defenders of Wildlife, and Audubon California, to name a few -- have been taking action. From what I can tell, the main activity in which these groups are engaging is advocacy: suggesting better ways to locate these facilities. However, the Center for Biological Diversity has launched a lawsuit* against the US Department of the Interior for allowing these facilities to operate. 

In the meantime, it seems "streamers" will tragically remain part of the Mojave sky.

*note that this action specifically mentions the Yuma Clapper Rail, a federally endangered bird species -- which tells me that the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA) is not powerful enough to make a case for the swallows, warblers, and other birds -- not to mention insects and bats -- impacted by the facility. This attests to the power and value of the Endangered Species Act, but also indicates, to me, someone with little knowledge of law, the weakness of the MBTA.

Velella Velella

The By-the-Wind Sailor is a most interesting creature. Known worldwide by its scientific name Velella velella, this jellyfish-like creature floats freely in the Pacific Ocean. Its tentacles are for feeding and to create air for buoyancy, and a stiff ridge on its back acts as a sail to propel it -- literally where-ever the wind blows.

 

When living, Velella are purplish-blue, a color they derive from their diet. Apparently their indigo tint is a mechanism to deal with the incredible amount of sun they are exposed to, from above and from the sea's reflections. See the General natural history section here for more. 

Depending on where you do your research (or, which branch of the Internet you browse), you may learn that:

• Velella is a communal organism (chondrophore) -- each tentacle is a separate living thing, and all tentacles floating in the same connected unit are actually just helping eachother out (like a Portuguese Man-o-War);

~ or ~

• Velella is a single organism (hydroid polyp) -- each floating body is its own separate living thing. Apparently, this is what more recent research has revealed, but I could not find that research, and it is easier to find seemingly reputable sources that claim the former.

Regardless, this summer seems to be a particularly "good" (depending on how you look at it) summer for Valella observations. They are washing up on the beaches all over the West Coast this year. They're such a popular observation that even the  San Francisco Chronicle has covered them recently.

Although I haven't seen them in the four previous springs I've spent here, they are apparently a fairly common vernal phenomenon in the Pacific Northwest and points south. But it's currently August and they continue to wash up, since starting in mid-July. According to this article, jellyfish in general currently abound in our oceans, and it's probably due to an imbalance in the ocean's overall health. It is also an El Niño year, but apparently its effects are expected to be mild, if anything at all, this year. Here's a great blog post explaining all that.

This morning, Catey and I observed them at Tennessee Beach. This small pocket beach has uplands immediately adjacent to it -- so as they have dried, the Velella have blown up into the coastal scrub. This creates a curious sight -- round, papery white jellyfish skeletons on the coastal hills. As Catey observed, it looks as if trash had been dumped on the beach. 



The skeletons are tough and pliable, more resembling plastic than paper. The crafty might find a way to stitch them together into clothing or bags.

"Ah, to be brainless and worry-free" was a comment I recently wrote to my good friend Toni in a discussion we were having last week about Velella. The closing sentence in the Farallones newsletter article (also linked above) led me to this chuckle of a conclusion.  These creatures' fates are solely determined by the shape of the sail that their genetic makeup creates on their backs. For the philosophical, this birthright is one worth exploring and pondering (to what coast would I have drifted if I were born a brown-haired lefty?), as we reflect on the vast scope of the natural world in both space and time.

All photos on this post were shot by me at Rodeo Beach, Marin County, California, 8/14/14, on an old roll of Mitsubishi MX-II 100 ASA film.

Sunsets

Catey (& Bear),

Here's to many more sunsets together. 

Love,

Steve

Escalators

24th Street BART Stairs and Escalator, (Halloween?) 2011.

Ever since about age 7, I have had a tremendous respect for escalators. It was then that a loose shoelace on my Keds shoe wormed its way into the toothed crack on the edge of an escalator at a mall. It was like a movie where the victim is oblivious, and doomed. The lace slowly lost its slack, then tugged, and pulled on my foot, tightening the shoe as I pulled away in horror. As the mechanized steps churned upward, I quickly began to envision the loss of a leg, and I pulled...pulled! The white rubber on the side of the shoe neared the jagged chrome jaw's grimace at an even pace. Rubber entered the jaw silently, pinched between the moving parts, as my foot shrunk back, into a tighter and tighter fist, away from the mechanical menace. The deli knife. Meanwhile, inches away, miles from the focus of my attention, some sharp metal object was slowly fraying the shoelace. Just as the escalator reached the top where another jagged set of teeth glistened in wait, at once the lace sheared, the rubber flap fell, separate from my shoe, and I launched, unscratched but forever scarred, to the mall floor, the only sound in my ears my own helpless shriek.

Nowadays, I enjoy photographing their steps, which turn into a blurring river when a long exposure is employed.

I think the above photo must have been from Halloween. Doesn't the guy ascending the escalator look like he's wearing a jail suit costume? I am not the best about notetaking when I shoot, so I can only guess that's the case. The roll was developed in November 2011 (remember film? no date-stamp on the file), so that strengthens the case. 

I shot the photo below in Vegas this past April. Without a tripod, I was lucky to notice that a railing is positioned perfectly for a camera. You can guess what my decision was. First, what better way to kill time while waiting for your bag? That's what I figured, even though I didn't check any bags. 

First Las Vegas Decision, April 2014.

With my rediscovered love for escalators*, I was curious, and had to do a quick Google search on "escalator function"...somehow I didn't get that far, but I found this. Here's a video that I'm certain would go viral with a little editing and a fitting soundtrack. The title is also unfortunate and -- don't worry -- very misleading. [Really, really dumb title, guys.]

-- follow up edit, 8/16/14: The following video should certainly be referenced. I think this is what I had in mind in the above paragraph. Since this has already been done, really nothing could be done with colorful balls on escalators to come close.

Sony BRAVIA Bouncy Ball Advertisement.

*I know this is obvious, but this is the great thing about the internet for our generation. So many things from our past that inspired curiosity or wonder when we were children, before the internet, and only encyclopedias, can now so easily be learned, or re-learned. 

The Earth is Expanding

Surely you're familiar with the term "wormhole." This is an internet time-burrow that one enters into when a topic crosses one's mind. If you google a single word like "Chee-tos", the search engine returns a thousand tangential keywords, videos, images, items available for purchase, and soon you've made a bad decision: a) Slouched for 3 hours over a laptop watching war archive films; b) Purchased a box of a thousand discontinued keychains; or c) Applied for a falconry apprenticeship in Brazil.

The one I entered into this afternoon is one that I don't regret. I think I've just been converted to believe that the Earth is expanding, rather than believing what I've been taught all my life: that the seafloor is spreading, and parts of the crust are burying back into the mantle simultaneously.

Here's how I got there.

I recently ordered a book off Amazon for an amazingly low price. (I don't recall what got me on the internet that day, but it wasn't specifically to buy this book!) I first saw it in a bookstore last Christmas and was tempted to pick one up for one of the frequent-flying members of Catey's family. America from the Air, co-authored in 2007 by  Daniel Mathews, a natural history writer, and James S. Jackson, a geology professor at Portland State. It's written for commercial jet passengers (and employees) who share my habit of gazing at landforms and civilization-caused shapes, and guessing what they are as I fly. I have photographed only a few because of the low quality that usually ensues through those plastic double windows. Here's one near Las Vegas showing a solar farm that I've tried unsuccessfully to find on Google Earth. 

Update: see http://americanature.blogspot.com/2014/09/different-views-of-ivanpah-solar-energy.html

Where the Sun is Grown, near Las Vegas, April 21, 2014.

Accompanying the book is a CD-ROM with a nationwide flight map and USGS Map #i2781: The North American Tapestry of Time and Terrain (downloadable PDF file). Zooming in on the Great Lakes, after some study, I thought to myself that it looks like the Great Lakes sort of exploded from the center of Michigan. Can see what I was imagining? Different colors reflect different ages of underground geology -- click on the link above to see the entire map and its legend.

Geologic Bubble Centered in Michigan - Source: USGS i2781

So I googled: "is the earth's volume increasing". The common secod way of digging further into our wormholes is the Wikipedia page. And, I was in.

It turns out there's a comedian and graphic artist Neal Adams who has promoted the concept of the earth expanding. If you want to save yourself from the risk of wormholing, skip Wikipedia and watch this 10-minute video. I think you'll be convinced too. (Forgive the odd soundtrack that spans from 2001: A Space Odyssey to the Nutcracker Suite.)
 

What's up? Dogwood.

Spring is well on its way. I am well overdue in posting due to a month full of travel -- first to Las Vegas and then to Palm Springs: two otherwise uninhabitable desert oases built and thriving on will power and stubbornness, seemingly. I did bring a camera both places, and you can expect to see some content from them soon. 

First, a bit about Cornus, dogwood. Many are familiar with dogwood, or at least aware that there is a shrub called dogwood. My favorite thing about the genus of plants is the "dogwood test" -- when one pulls a leaf apart width-wise, making a horizontal tear, fibrous strands within the leaf hold it together. It's the coolest thing! And a good way to tell whether you're looking at a dogwood. This is illustrated here.

But if you aren't feeling like mutilating an innocent shrub, you can look for strong venation in the leaves -- studying the photo below may help. Also, look for opposite leaves and branches. What do I mean opposite? The leaf stems and branching come off of the larger branches beneath directly across from each other. For an example of this, look at the branch toward lower-right-center below. It is like an inverted "Peace" symbol without the circle around it.  Can you see it?

Most shrubs and trees are branched "alternately", or as one goes up the stem, the smaller branches are arranged one, then another upward and across, then another, etc. -- not paired. 

MADCapHorse is a mnemonic device I just learned from the blog brilliantbotany to help remember the groups of plants that are opposite-branched and opposite-leaved. The first three letters, M, A, and D stand for Maple, Ash, Dogwood; Cap represents the honeysuckles Caprifoliaceae; and Horse chestnuts are not to be forgotten as opposite either. Elderberries are also opposite but no longer in Caprifoliaceae (now Adoxaceae); and buckeyes are too. MADCapBuckingHorseAdox is more like it.

Cornus sericea (red-osier dogwood), Marin County, April 2013.

And, I might as well throw in a stitched triptych (stryptich? trypstitch?) of Bear on the local woodsy dog path. A good place to hear Swainson's thrush sing this time of year. Above him is a large oak, and below that are many wild plums or cherries (both with alternate branches).

Beardog checks out the path to Eastwood Park, Tam Valley, CA, April 2013. 3 separate frames stitched together with Hugin.

BioBlitzed!

This year, for most staff and interns in the Golden Gate National Parks, March 28-29, 2014 was defined by BioBlitz. The term "bioblitz" currently has no formal definition, but it's used with increasing frequency for those in the natural sciences. A bioblitz (n.) could be defined as: 

An inventory of a given time constraint, usually 24 hours, in which all living things in a defined unit of land and/or water are located and identified. In a bioblitz, expert scientists from multiple disciplines (botany, zoology, mycology, etc.) are invited to visit the defined unit to undertake inventories according to their skill and interest.  Public participation (see also citizen science) is generally integral to a bioblitz.

That's my own definition. I'm sure it's more concise elsewhere, but I'm rolling with it. 

In our case,  BioBlitz (with two capital Bs) was all of the above, but specifically the one that National Geographic sponsors. National Geographic has been in the process of choosing a national park each year in which to conduct their BioBlitz. They announce the following year's selection at the closing ceremony for the current one. They've done it for 8 so far, including ours; next year, as they just announced, will be at Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park. And the tenth, to be announced next year, will coincide with the 100-year anniversary of the National Park Service in 2016.

So, a year ago, it was an abstract concept that was blocked off on our calendars. We knew it would be something incredible and unprecedented. Thanks to attention to detail by dedicated staff and interns from the National Park Service and The Golden Gate National Parks Conservancy, by the time early March rolled around we all had a fairly good idea when and where to be during the chaos. 

The planning paid off -- the events, from what I experienced, were quite streamlined. About 9,000 people and over 300 scientists flocked in from other parks and academic institutions. One father/son came from Hawai'i because the dad wanted his son to experience it. What a way to travel!

Sam Hasek enters bird species seen by bicycle on smartphone via the iNaturalist app. Photo: Anand Varna.

The species were catalogued via the smartphone app iNaturalist. If you've got a smartphone, I encourage you to download it (free) and start using it to explore your local patch. It's one of the coolest uses of technology that I've seen, and gives me great hope. I've been kind of fearful/resentful of the encroachment of technology into our lives (except for nature-related blogs, ha ha), but I feel like iNaturalist is a good way to get people outside to start working on their "Life List", or list of all unique species they've seen in their life.

Moreover, iNat also encourages one to participate with a larger community of people across the country and world who are experiencing nature on their own level -- from novice to professional. As an iNat user, you are able to ask for help identifying what you've seen from other users who may be more familiar with a particular animal, plant, fungus, whatever. Got a moth in your pantry? Put its photo on iNat, call it a "moth", select "ID Please", and within minutes someone might tell you what it is. 

Now that BioBlitz is over, the dust is settling -- and it's back to doing what we love: working with volunteers, planting a few more plants as the rainy season comes to a close, and pulling lots of weeds. There's a bit of postpartum depression circulating as this milestone has passed us. But the ray of light is that this is really only the beginning: 2,700+ students came during the event to get inspired to learn the wonders of their local national park, and many of us have been inspired to collaborate with eachother and the public in new ways. 

My BioBlitz went as follows:
Friday morning, I was one of a group of scientists assigned with a station to host busloads of students from Dianne Feinstein elementary. Situated with the Golden Gate Bridge as my backdrop, I was given about 10 minutes for 5 different groups of 10-15 5th graders. My job was to tell them about birds. I decided I'd tell them about bird biodiversity there; then I had them listen to bird song for exactly one minute and describe what they heard to the group; then they had some time to use binoculars. One kid, when I asked what he saw, reported, "I saw a beggar" on the Golden Gate Bridge. (I didn't put that on iNaturalist.) 

Friday afternoon, I co-led a nature walk with some other great scientists from the Bay Area. We had placed coverboards -- old plywood boards in contact with soil -- to encourage salamanders, lizards, millipedes, isopods (pillbugs and roly polys), and other critters to take refuge under them. Then, during the walk, we revealed the critters. We also took note of plants, birds, butterflies, whatever the group could identify. It was a great convergence of skill sets that made us all want to do more than just a short 2-hour walk. 

Left with some daylight, I went birding and was lucky to have a red crossbill land right in front of me, bathe in a puddle, then disappear into the canopy. I think it was the only red crossbill inventoried during the count period of Noon Friday to Noon Saturday. (150 bird species were tallied across the whole park during the event.)

And speaking of BioBlitz magic -- before the above walk began, a few of us were lucky enough to see a majestic adult bald eagle fly over our heads. This was in a place where they are very unusual. Swept away in the moment, I announced it loudly to about 30 people who were there, hoping they could see it and photograph it (I guess I said something kind of cheesy and patriotic, but I really don't remember exactly). Unfortunately, it soared away, but it was a powerful moment.

On Saturday morning, the 7-11am birding-by-bike inventory that I led ironically saw some of the heaviest 4 hours of rain that the Bay Area has seen in 6 months. But spirits were high, and the group of four, later three of us, stuck it out, enjoying the much needed rain, and cataloging 44 bird species. This included the elusive Wilson's snipe.  

In the blogs/news:
http://newswatch.nationalgeographic.com/2014/04/03/biodiversity-gold-photos-from-the-golden-gate-bioblitz/

http://www.sfgate.com/science/article/Teams-tally-biological-oddities-on-Bay-Area-s-5359003.php