Just so you know, a year ago today I had the 2,000th post here on Walkabout, and this – this is the 2,285th.
That means that, should I keep this rate up, it’ll only be 2½ more years to reach the 3,000th post! The time just flies by, doesn’t it?
Regrettably, I have not gone back to redo the theme music despite intentions – I had set it aside after that post for a breather, which is apparently still taking place. This is in the face of reminding myself, every time I use it for a podcast or video, that I want to redo it. Boy, that just ruined the high that I had from the post count…
But while we’re here, have a pic, from six years ago today – ah, I remember it well!
Our opening image this week comes from a negative from 1998, and I could almost give you the exact date – I know that it was on the grounds of the (then) Carnivore Preservation Trust on the one day that I volunteered with them. I had intended to do a lot more, but things changed. Anyway, this was my first photo, and first look, at a green heron (Butorides virescens,) having seen it cruise overhead and recognizing that it wasn’t the size, shape, or flight pattern of anything that I was familiar with. The range was extreme, and even with the Canon 75-300 lens I couldn’t get a decent look until I examined the prints after developing, but I was savvy enough at the time to say, “Hey, that’s a green heron, cool.”
A year or so later, I had done the switch to slide film and was visiting the NC Zoological Park in Asheboro, and from the walkway over a border marshland I spotted another – well, okay, it could be the same one, I can’t say definitively, but I’m going with a different one. I was a bit closer this time, but still using the 75-300.
Little better idea of the plumage now, and I watched for a couple of minutes in the hopes that it would snag a minnow while down there fishing, but no dice. The 75-300 wasn’t the sharpest lens that I’d ever owned, but it didn’t do too badly at that, especially for something that a) I could afford at the time, and b) I could carry around easily. Let’s go in for a closer crop.
That’s not bad resolution, especially handheld at 300mm, so I’m not complaining, but I did eventually trade up, both to the Canon 100-300 L (much older but specifically aimed more towards professional use and surprisingly sharp for such a light lens,) and to the Sigma 170-500, far larger and heavier, and a decent-but-not-great performer. Nowadays, the long lens is the Tamron 150-600 G2, which is even larger and heavier but pretty badass for a non-professional grade lens. This means expensive, but not as expensive as the top offerings in that focal length. And that was what I was using for the next image.
Really, I’ll take any excuse to repost this portrait…
The longer lens of course helped, but what really helped is living very close to a pond where green herons (among others) resided during the summer, so I could visit frequently and spend time out there. Even with that, it took me a few years to get really nice portraits, as well as action sequences. The only other thing that I’ll credit this to is knowing that the species might be around and thus looking carefully at ideal locations, which allowed me to spot this one before I spooked it off. Most of the credit, however, goes to luck and perseverance, so if at any point in time you find yourself lamenting that your shots don’t look as good as someone else’s, recognize that often enough such shots are largely due to putting in the hours. Always work to improve the odds, of course, but know that a lot of success simply comes, “eventually.”
Yesterday, The Girlfriend and I were checking out the progress of various plants in the yard when I glanced down at one of the rosemary bushes and stopped dead. This particular bush had a little extra alongside, one of the Chinese mantis (Tenodera sinensis) egg sacs/oothecas that I’d collected less than a month ago, affixed to a tall stick planted almost in contact with the bush. And that egg sac, against all expectations, was hatching out. In fact, I caught it in the latest stages, but soon enough to get a little action anyway.
Now, this is way early, close to a month before the earliest for any previous years witnessed, and roughly two months before some of the latest ones, so it’s safe to say that I wasn’t expecting this at all. There’s still some concern over getting another overnight frost in the next month or so, but they didn’t bother checking with me on the best season for emerging so they’re on their own.
I was a bit past ideal time to capture this, since it seems most had already hatched out and were scampering about on the branch that I’d attached the egg sac to, as well as on the rosemary itself, but a decent cluster of them were still dangling beneath the sac while they got their legs in operation and detached themselves from their suspending filaments.
I was shooting by ambient light, having detached the flash because I was using the tripod for video work at the same time and the macro rig uses the same quick-change plate – maybe someday I’ll correct that, but it wasn’t today. So I was mostly shooting wide open and thus focus was a little short, but adequate to the task anyway (and I’ve got a ton of other photos from previous years’ sessions anyway.)
As I’ve illustrated previously, they emerge with a bullet-shaped, swollen noggin with only dark spots delineating the eyes, but this swelling soon goes down while the eyes stand out – this one’s almost completely through its transition. Is this fluid that fills out the eyes? Got me – I doubt I could effectively dissect one to answer that question even if I was so inclined, and so far, no source that I’ve found has provided the solution either.
But as you know if you read the post right before this, I shot some video clips of this.
The day was pretty warm, but a seriously gusty wind was at work, not that they seemed to notice very much – the ones still dangling were getting quite a ride, but once on their feet they weren’t hampered visibly by the wind at all. Just in the short time that I was out there, most of the mantids were dispersing from the stick-and-sac out across the rosemary, which you can see here for scale (if you’re familiar with rosemary, anyway.)
In fact, given the wind, I was a little surprised to find that only one seemed to have gotten entangled (besides the curious entrapment of the one in the video) – often it’s more, and a couple of years ago the number of newborns that did not survive the hatching process was much higher. We’ll get a little peek here.
Front and center is the one that I released from the egg sac, quite mobile now but still with its two hindmost legs tangled by a bit of filament – I felt pretty comfortable that it would disentangle itself within the day. Not so much the one in the background, visible all throughout the video;all legs were wrapped together with that one, likely from a gust of wind at the wrong time, and I wasn’t about to try releasing it. I’ve tackled it before, and the legs are so fragile while the filament is so tough that the risk of injury is very high – you’ve seen how big the scalpel blade is, and that’s the smallest thing I’ve got to manage the job. The filaments are but a few hundredths of a millimeter in thickness, so even seeing them takes serious magnification – I’m afraid that one was on its own.
Notably, by early yesterday evening, not one mantis could be seen with careful examination of the rosemary bush, and that was by both The Girlfriend and I. Where they’d all gotten to so quickly, I couldn’t say, but the temperature was already dropping so I’m surmising that they were sheltering down in the leaves and litter at the base. We’ll see what shows up in the next week.
Meanwhile, I’d started the day off with the idea that I’d photograph the pair of downy woodpeckers that may be making a nest nearby, but that got sidelined by this (and various household things.) So there may be still more pics coming soon. Ah, spring!
Today, I suddenly discover, is a holiday, though why anyone would want to celebrate this is beyond me, but it’s Take Far Longer On A Project Than Planned And Ruin Your Schedule Day, which is why you’re seeing this here instead of another proper post. That’ll arrive shortly, but longer than I have left in the day, so shortly, tomorrow.
Don’t you just love downloading an updated bit of software in the hopes that it will correct a recurring problem with the older version, only to find that not only did it fail to fix this, it started crashing on its own for no determinable reason? I know I do. I just eat that shit up. Mmm yummy.
The software in question was/is Kdenlive, which is video editing software – overall, it was working better than OpenShot, which I’d been using earlier, but it was prone to video stuttering in the preview screening, which can be hard to sync voiceovers to and is just annoying on its own. The problem is reduced with the latest version, and truth be told, OpenShot had audio stuttering which is far worse, but neither one is acceptable and I’ve simply been coping. Yes, stuttering in both programs would seem to indicate something with my system, but as yet I have not determined what, and there’s more than enough RAM to cope.
Anyway, that tells you a video (which has been completed now) is on the way so, lucky you! But the holiday had to get out of the way first, and there’s no chance that I’ll have the post done before it becomes Monday. Stupid holidays.
Hearing some activity from the nearby pond and it being a warm night, I decided to grab the camera, with just the Mamiya 80mm macro attached, and go take a peek at what was going on. Just so you know, all of the photos here were captured in less than forty minutes – one of those effortless excursions.
On getting close, it became apparent that all of the noise was emanating from just one source – well, one species – and that species was the American toad (Anaxyrus americanus.) It took me a moment on drawing up to the water’s edge to spot any individuals, which seems amusing in retrospect.
It didn’t take long at all to realize that the pond’s edges were brimming with them, both in and out of the water, and as intent as they were on fulfilling their propagational duties, they were paying little heed to my presence. And it got worse.
Capturing them in mid-call was remarkably easy, even as I was perched on a steep bank trying not to slide into the water while focusing on them by the light of the headlamp. But as I walked around the water’s edge, it became clear that I had to watch where I set foot very carefully, because as I said, they were intent on other things. No, not plural – just one other thing.
The downward angle is actually indicative of how close they were; the darker female had just hopped across my sandal as I was photographing a different individual. The paler one is a male, and only moments later he attempted to close the deal, but she shrugged him off with a series of ‘chuckling’ protests – lucky you, I decided to record some audio on my smutphone, and you’ll hear this sound (from a different rejecting female) as the recording gets a little quieter near the 4 second mark. Mind you, it also gets louder, much louder, because another at my feet started sounding off and I was able to hold the phone less than a half meter from her, so be warned.
mating calls of American toads Anaxyrus americanus
I feel I should tell you, below is the solo artist from that recording, as I put the phone away and aimed the camera for the next round of calls.
The toads weren’t the only species out, but I was a little surprised to see this one. Still, its timing was pretty good, even if it was just a few meters too far away from the bulk of the activity.
This is a northern water snake (Nerodia sipedon sipedon,) fairly good sized at roughly a meter in length, harmless to humans but certainly a high-level enemy of the toads. I had just told Mr Bugg yesterday that I didn’t think the snakes would be out yet, so this demonstrates my powers of prognostication. But as I said, if you’re gonna stir yourself for spring, do it while the toads are plentiful and preoccupied.
This image was taken specifically to show how to differentiate the northern water snake from the almost-identical banded water snake: the banded water snake maintains the crossing bands/stripes all the way to the tail, while the northern sports broken bands like these towards the rear of the body. Of course, it always helps if the snake has cooperatively left its tail in plain sight and not hidden within pondside litter or under the water, but both species are harmless, so differentiation is only for the pedantic bloggers.
I also made a few attempts to catch the very active tongue while extended, because the snake wasn’t preoccupied with getting some action and was thus suspicious of the way the light kept moving around, so it sampled the air trying to get a baseline on what was happening. Catching the tongue isn’t as easy as imagined, since it seems like it remains out flickering long enough, but I have plenty of frames, of this and other individuals, where it has retracted as soon as I trip the shutter. Tonight it took three or four attempts.
Now, I hung around for a little bit to see if either the snake would move a little further along in pursuit of the many toads, or if a toad would blunder into the snake’s radius. I didn’t have long to wait as a toad came hopping along the shoreline in my direction – in fact, directly towards me, as it quickly sought and surmounted my sandaled foot and perched there, this to all appearances being very deliberate.
The thing is, this was the third time this evening that a toad clambered atop my foot, and they weren’t that thick on the ground. I had a brief suspicion that they were mistaking the dark rubber for a female, but this was dispelled by remembering that the first, at least, had demonstrated it was itself female, so this didn’t fit. And then this latest one further dispelled this.
Yes, that’s the toad actually calling from her position on my foot. I was remaining motionless, mostly, but the headlamp was swinging around and the camera flash was going off, not to mention the foot was likely flexing at least a little from shifting weight and balance, so the toad had plenty of clues that I was not a rock. So, should I be flattered, or put those sandals in for a wash-up?
I waited, in fact bent down now with the smutphone to try and get head-on-video of the toad calling, but possibly the proximity of the phone (or her disdain for Samsung) prevented her from calling further, and she soon abandoned its perch – not in the direction of the snake just a little offshore, which by now had become too suspicious and was slowly nosing away. I decided to wrap it up for the night and started back.
But I took a small side trip (which I’ll explain in a moment,) and ended up alongside some overflow channels that often retained water, catching a movement therein, which revealed a successful couple.
That’s a pair in amplexus, the act of the male grasping the female around the abdomen and riding there until she entered the water and began depositing eggs, which he would then fertilize. Which they were, in fact, in the process of.
That little beaded string is the egg mass, and they can get quite large – I suspect I caught them towards the beginning of the process. Ain’t reproduction grand?
Heading back to Walkabout Estates, I paused at a roadside ditch because I thought I’d heard the call of a bullfrog, and didn’t even have to search, it being almost as obvious as it could be.
This is an American bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus,) many times larger than the American toads, but you don’t have to take my word for it, since it was complacent enough, and I was slick enough, to get my foot into the picture again.
I think that should serve as a decent comparison. Safe to say, had this one hopped onto my foot, I wouldn’t be going anywhere, and might have been walking with a limp afterwards.
But there was one more thing that happened tonight (well, it looks like it was last night to be accurate, as midnight approaches.) On the way over to the pond, I’d switched on the headlamp and caught some light high in the trees. I had to dodge back and forth to ensure that it wasn’t one of the various streetlamps in the area shining through from a distance, but it blinked on and off and shifted a little bit, so I was certain that I was seeing the reflections from the eyes of something. They vanished as I drew closer and didn’t reappear, so I abandoned that quest to go find toads. On the way back, I tried again, and saw it again, so this time I took the softbox off the flash, boosted to full power, and fired off a frame.
The range was too great, especially since the macro flash isn’t the most powerful thing that I own, but I did at least get the reflection, and a hint of the trees. Once back home, I brought the image into GIMP and boosted the brightness a bit at full resolution to see what was hidden in the shadows.
That’s just enough detail to make out the side of a head, with one rounded ear pointing to lower left, this being a North American raccoon (Procyon lotor.) It’s funny how few I see in the immediate area, because it seems like it should be ideal for them, but as you can see, this one was definitely being shy, and sneaky enough to peek out with only one eye.
So yeah, productive enough to start making up for winter. Everyone rejoice!
Yesterday, the Indomitable Mr Bugg and I got out for a short outing down at Jordan Lake, checking out conditions and taking a shot at sunset. The latter didn’t really pan out, despite the number of times that we’ve seen terrible skies in North Carolina go completely clear by sundown, but we still managed a few pics here and there. The first stop was over by the nest that was first spotted last year, and pinned down precisely almost a month ago – I regret to say that I hadn’t been back to check on progress/occupancy until now, but at least this trip filled in some blanks.
Yes, the nest is easily visible through a gap in the trees, one that won’t even disappear once the summer foliage is fully established. And yes, the nest is apparently in use this year, though not by bald eagles but instead by osprey (Pandion haliaetus.) Eagles would have been more welcome, since getting this close to an eagle nest would be stunning, but hey, I’ll take the osprey. Unfortunately, the viewing angle is much lower than last year’s family, so likely little will be seen until the young are close to fledging age, and I’ll remain on the lookout for other nests.
Meanwhile, a nice stretch by the occupant, or bellhop or whatever title applies.
The downside of this is, we were just as visible (probably a lot more so) to the osprey, which may make the nest occupants a little anxious, so we’ll have to monitor their behavior carefully so as not to spook them off.
There wasn’t a lot of activity at one of our old haunts down by the water – well, not the activity that we were after, anyway. There was practically a traffic jam of boaters at the ramps due to the warmer weather, while the recent rains had driven the lake level up well over a meter and thus flooded out the paths along the edge that we would hike along to spot more species. And as the day wore on, the sky became heavily overcast and so the light went to shit. But before that happened, I managed a number of frames of another osprey as it wheeled overhead.
The afternoon was gusty before the clouds rolled in, and the bigger birds were taking advantage of this. A plethora of vultures was wheeling around practically in formation, and a couple of juvenile eagles were spotted at a moderate distance, though I obtained no really promising photos of the latter. And seagulls, but I routinely ignore them now unless there’s some kind of fartistic or behavioral composition I can do with them. There were plenty of cormorants, mostly remaining at a distance, but one fishing specimen cruised close by and did some proud poses with its catch.
Double-crested cormorants are now Nannopterum auritum instead of Phalacrocorax auritus, because they have to keep selling bird books I suppose – I actually put red asterisks in my Sibley’s Guide by all the scientific names that I’ve found that are outdated, and there’s a lot of them. Meanwhile, I tweaked this image slightly because, while I did indeed dial in some exposure compensation for the brightness of the water, it wasn’t actually enough, so it’s been boosted slightly in post. As dark as it was, I still caught enough color from its eye to show up when brightened.
But anyway, the photography season is getting going, so the number of posts and photos (current photos) should be improving soon.
I think it really would be spring already, if the big weather systems would stop hurtling across the country and scaring it away. I’m going to berate everyone in states west of here for letting these hooligans get past them.
Yesterday the weather cleared and warmed again, and I did a small patrol of Walkabout Estates to see what was going on. I already knew the blue hyacinth flowers were coming up, having been a bit smarter than the pink by waiting for the freezing temperatures to pass. And a few branches of the rosemary bushes had been pushing out the occasional blossom for a few weeks now, though this one seems ready to do it proper very soon.
Abruptly, however, the Yoshino cherry tree was sporting the first flowers, apparently spurred by the heavy rains recently. The sky was clearing, so with a little awkward dancing I was able to get some blue in there, even when the flower itself was in the shade of the larger trees nearby.
I say “awkward” above because the tree is only a little taller than I, and most of the blossoms sit at eye-level or lower, but aimed downwards for some evolutionary reason, so getting a ‘face-on’ perspective required half-kneeling and aiming upwards, and then scooting around to get a patch of blue for the background. Honestly, the efforts that this content requires – you should be honored.
And one of the itty-bitty maples out back was sporting some samaras, which made a little photogenic spot by itself.
It’s curious: the maple and the cherry trees throw out flowers first thing, long before any leaves appear, while the almond tree is well leafed out but probably won’t produce any flowers for a little while yet – judging from the two times past that it’s done so, it could happen any day or not for a couple weeks yet. Or not at all. Really, two blooming seasons totaling four flowers isn’t anything to make a baseline from.
But then there was the surprise.
Out behind the shed, atop a stack of windows that had been replaced last year and we’re still trying to figure out what to do with, a smallish Carolina anole (Anolis carolinensis) attracted my attention. It was certainly warm enough today, though the nights have still been getting fairly nippy and I imagined that this guy would have waited a bit longer for dependably warm temperatures, but here we are. It was being just a little cautious and so getting a decent portrait remained beyond me yesterday, though I tried three separate times. But then, as The Girlfriend got home and I took her around to see the little spud, we found another, a large adult only a couple meters away.
This one was on a couple of pieces of scrap plywood that we retain for projects, and settled itself into a camouflage position against the edge, so my careful approach allowed for a much closer portrait, helped by the bright afternoon sun.
As I was doing this, I was pondering their life cycles a little bit. I read that they only produce one egg at a time, unlike the various skinks in the area, and to the best of my knowledge they only have one birthing season though don’t quote me on that. So, two adults producing one offspring a year? That doesn’t make for impressive numbers, or even survivability, which likely means there’s more to the equation, either more birthing seasons throughout a calendar year, or males impregnating multiple females each season, or both. Many species have multiple offspring, either clutches of three to seven or so like the skinks, or a few dozen to hundred like the mantids, solely to combat attrition, the loss of offspring before they can reach reproductive age. One egg just seems all wrong, but again, me photographer, someone else herpetologist.
The same adult settled in immediately adjacent to its perch above once night fell, as I discovered when I went back out later on to see what the evening held.
I never would have spotted this had I not been prompted to look from finding it nearby earlier, and I’m pleased that the flash got into the crack adequately – that’s why it’s at a diagonal. I was too lazy to readjust the flash arm to account for the position of the boards, so I just tilted the camera rig.
The greenhouse is right next to this, so I peeked in to see if there was activity, and there was.
There’s no reason this image should be as clear as it is, because this juvenile green treefrog (Hyla cinerea) was tucked in among the voluminous leaves of one of the trumpet flowers (Brugmansia,) and getting a clear view was hard enough; I figured the flash head was going to be well blocked, but apparently not. This is not the one that I placed in there for its own safety a few days back, being much smaller; the foliage in there is so dense right now that a dozen or so could be perched within and I’d never see them without a major expedition. In a couple of weeks, most of the plants will move out into the yard, and I’ll try to ensure that the treefrogs go with them. And then, maybe we’ll get some tomatoes and basil established for year-round production.
Each year I treat the appearance of the treefrogs as the ‘official’ start of spring, which is better than some fixed date, though that frog above, being in the greenhouse, doesn’t count. This one does, though.
Over on the wall right alongside the frost cover for the water spigot, an adult Copes grey treefrog (Hyla chrysoscelis) sat evaluating the temperature, not quite warm enough to consider it mating season even while, somewhere in the distance, the chorus frogs were vocally proceeding with the event. While I’ve been trying to get more dynamic and fartsy with my photos, this one didn’t lend itself to any creative approaches at all, though I’ll Photoshop something up if you really want it (even though it’ll be with GIMP instead, but that doesn’t sound right as a verb.) Almost directly underneath it, a juvie green was perched on a grounding wire, but that was even worse.
So instead, I’ll close with the juvie green out front, peeking from the rain gutter under the roof overhang and looking intrepid, or something.
Why do we have rain gutters under the roof overhang? It’s hard to describe, but it makes perfect sense – not all of it is under the overhang, just a small portion where it connects to the downspout that runs along the wall. Seriously, we’re on it, okay? Just appreciate the noble crimefighting frog here.
For our opening image today, we go back to 2005, my first trip to the Blue Ridge mountains in NC despite the fact that I’d lived in the state since 1990 – in fact, I’d moved out of state (to three different states, but that’s another story in itself,) before moving back in the year previous to this. Anyway, I was following vague directions to various waterfalls when I came across a small cave deep in the woods, with runoff forming a curtain across the entrance, and in one small spot, a ray of sunlight was lancing through the forest canopy to illuminate the water splashing on the rocks. This formed a very small rainbow, and so, I shot the image.
Except, between the exposure setting and the higher-contrast of slide film (this being Fuji Velvia F,) the rainbow effect didn’t register too well at all. I might have done a lot better with Fuji Astia, which has lower contrast and a more neutral color tone and saturation level, but this was what I had loaded at the time and I wasn’t switching rolls just for this frame. I mean, technically I could have, because I did it from time to time, rewinding mid-roll and marking the frame number that I’d reached on the film can, and then reloading it again later – the Canon Elan IIe and the EOS 3 were so precise in framing that this could easily take place without even a gap in the frame spacing, but usually I only did this when I would be shooting numerous shots of something that required a different palette, and I likely even thought the increased saturation of Velvia F would bring out the rainbow better. So much for that.
But the next frame was taken perhaps only a minute or so later (if not earlier.)
I also had the Canon Pro 90 IS with me, my first digital camera, and so shot the same subject with that, which did slightly better. The contrast and saturation settings were neutral, and I can tell this from the EXIF info, so the appearance is different, though bringing out the rainbow still requires boosting the saturation and curves a bit, and it still isn’t impressive. Ah well.
I did a lot of comparison shooting that weekend, still enamored with the vividness and detail of slide film (especially given the low resolution of the Pro 90) but interested in the versatility of digital. I haven’t shot any slides in quite a while now, more because of the difficulty and expense of getting it developed than in finding digital to be better, but they both have their strengths and weaknesses. I actually have a slide developing kit sitting on the shelf behind me, awaiting that time when I feel up to tackling this (conditions and temperatures have to be precise, the water has to be distilled, etc.) Someday it will happen, but it’ll be when there’s actually something worthwhile to shoot out there, and not drab and shitty conditions – spring ain’t here yet.
For the sake of it, I did a few pictures today, and if you know anything about my writing style, you’ll notice that I did not say, “images” – this says something on its own. While signs of spring have been popping up here and there, indicating that the plants, at least, think it’s about time, we’re about to undergo a drastic drop in temperature tonight (like, down to about -7°c, and yes that’s a negative symbol) and they’re about to learn their lessons. That’s what you get for not having a brain stem.
About a week ago, I found several green treefrogs (Hyla cinerea) out in the evening, because it was warm enough, and I was trusting them to figure out that it wasn’t going to remain that way. However, today I found one submerged in a watering can which had to be around 5°c, and I knew the small amount of water would likely freeze solid tonight. I fished the frog out and popped it into the greenhouse, which has a heater to keep it above 12°.
I know it has at least two companions in there, and plenty of hidey-holes, so it should be fine – much better than outside, anyway, and way better than a watering can. Meanwhile, another that I found in one of the downspouts is going to have to figure things out on its own.
The various plants in the greenhouse have been expressing their approval in the usual manner, and it’s closing in on summer to them I think. Most of the Japanese maples have already leafed out thoroughly, while the trumpet flowers are ready to take over. One of those did not get cut back at all last year because it never quite thrived, so we simply moved it into the greenhouse before the temperatures dropped too far, but the other two were completely cut back, as you’re supposed to, and are already becoming small trees.
So you know, it’s only a two-meter-square greenhouse, and I can walk upright down the center under the roof peak but not anywhere else. The big leaves to the left are from the uncut trumpet, which has now produced a flower bud, while the big leaves in lower center are from the cut ones – you can see two new ones sprouted from cuttings on the shelves in the back. The other things taking over from the left are two Japanese maples, with smaller ones down low to the right. While it might seem that my organizing skills need work, south is to the right, so the sunlight all comes in on that side during the winter, and the taller trees are positioned not to block it from the smaller plants, so there.
Let’s have a closer look at something down there.
Flanked by some of the sprouting flowers (violets?) that had started outdoors but got moved in just now due to the freeze warning, the centerpiece of the frame is some variety of Japanese maple that The Girlfriend got last year, something almost like a bonsai maple. It had the thickest canopy that I’ve seen any plant produce, literally impenetrable to the eye, while not being a meter high or wide. It’s been busting out this year.
I know that as they mature, these leaves are going to become a uniform, rich kelly green, so I wanted to record them now in this color variation. Unlike some of the other varieties, these did not turn a cool color in the fall, just becoming brown after hanging on for a long time, but their spring display (which we’re seeing for the first time) makes up for it.
[You may well be asking what varieties these all are, and I don’t know that off the top of my head – someplace around here we have the records, and I’ll have to dig them out sometime.]
In the chive planter outdoors, some moss has started invading, and I noticed in passing today that it appeared to be ‘seeding out,’ or whatever it is that moss does, so I did a few shots while the camera was in hand.
Honestly, I don’t know how moss propagates, and I can’t be arsed to look it up, but I figure I’ll let you see it for yourself anyway. It was curious enough that I got out the reversed Sigma 28-105 for a detailed look.
It had rained much earlier, but I don’t think that’s water on top, but the splitting outer ‘sheath.’ Whatever – just look. There are other places for the educational aspect.
I also noticed, in passing, that a squirrel (probably) had found one of the Chinese mantis egg cases that I’d placed.
If you’re not seeing the egg cases, well, yeah, that’s the point: the little bastard had eaten it, or carried it away, leaving behind the string that I tied it to my support branch with. I probably should have put this up higher, but this prompted me to go around to all the others and treat the branches, above and below, with deer repellent. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s worth a try.
[This was a homebrewed recipe, by the way, found online, and it worked wonders for the deer last year. They were very fond of the ornamental sweet potato vines that we’d plant out front alongside the porch, considering it like candy, but an application of the repellent was enough to break them entirely of that habit. It washes away of course, and needs to be reapplied after a rain, but even when I was a bit slow in doing so, the deer were avoiding the plants after their first encounter, so it’s apparently rank enough to be memorable. I don’t know if it’s a bad thing for the mantis eggs, though, so I’m taking care not to apply it directly to them, just close enough to hopefully disgust the squirrels. It’s got garlic and hot sauce and oil soap in it, nothing too caustic I don’t think, but who knows what the oil soap would do?]
Several plants around the yard are showing their spring blooms, with one tree out back already past blooming and into seeding – these look like samaras so I’m pegging this as likely a maple of some kind but it was here when we got here and I never tried to identify it.
Many of the former blossoms already litter the yard in places, and the rose bushes out front are kicking it too. My almond tree is leafing out enthusiastically, which is good to see after a couple of years of slow response.
I just checked: it’s actually ten years old this year, so not too bad for something that started in a compost pile, though I kind of expected it to be a bit bigger by now – it still only stands a meter or so tall, though it’s branched out well enough. The big question, of course, is what is tonight’s freeze going to do to all of these early bloomers, which is why I spent a little time to go around and get a few pics. We’ll see. We’ll also see if I get motivated to do some more cold weather experiments tonight.
Some time back, I’d started noodling with a post idea and did a few slide scans to flesh it out, then never liked what I was producing and tossed it. But that gives us this slide, once again from a trip to Florida, representing the only image I think I have of ‘the Everglades.’
I mean, I have plenty taken within, but no others of it – nothing that shows the broader landscape, as it were. This one was taken from an airboat ride, one of the many that you can find advertised as you go along Rt 41, otherwise known as the Tamiami Trail because 41 runs from Tampa, south along the west/gulf coast, that cuts across the northern edge of the Everglades over to Miami. It’s a local route rather than an interstate, so it’s dozens of times more interesting than I-75 further north. On a previous trip I’d gone out on a snorkeling excursion to the coral reef near Key Largo, and on this one I was debating whether I’d do so again or take an airboat ride. Key Largo was several hours away, and I’d never been on an airboat, so it won out, but I have to say it was unimpressive. I’m sure airboats are fun if you’re at the helm, but when you’re just a passenger and don’t come across anything interesting, well, I can’t be too enthusiastic about them.
Still, I liked the feel, the representative example of the vast swamp (even when it doesn’t look too big here,) and those stacked and layered clouds mimicking the treeline were cool. And then, interested in the subtleties of their textures, I converted it to greyscale.
It took a little selectivity in the Curves function in GIMP to bring them out this way, but it’s making the most out of monochrome. Now, to me, it seems later in the day with a storm threatening, perhaps not the best time to follow any channels too far ahead. The clouds are no longer background but more dominant in the frame, almost palpable in their shapes, while the channel grasses are even more coarse-looking. This is not deceptive, either: we passed a little too close to some of the tall stands of grass on the airboat and they’re not good to encounter at speed.
By the way, if you’ve never done this, go check out the Everglades in Google Earth or Google Maps, just for the sake of it. The dearth of roads says a lot, but satellite view is plenty expressive.
