Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Mill Trail in Redwood Regional Park


Mill Trail, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

Here's the Mill Trail in the awe-inspiring Redwood Regional Park. Yesterday's rain cleaned all the dust off the leaves and turned the dull mosses a fluorescent green. There was even a stream flowing nearby, which had been dry a few weeks ago.
Redwood is an interesting park because its stream contains the habitat of the original rainbow trout. The rainbow trout was first identified here as a new species in 1855. The fish has since been introduced to many lakes, rivers, and streams around the world.

Friday, March 14, 2008

More Spring Wildflowers...


Hite Cove Trail, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

...next to the Hite Cove Trail near Yosemite. It's spectacular there right now!

Thursday, March 13, 2008

I say Cataba, you say Catalpa


Sometimes things are just different here in the south.
It wasn't until I was 18 and had a roommate from New Jersey, that I realized that only southerners use the term fixing to. At least in the sense that means "about to".
Similarly, our Cataba (cuh tah buh) tree is a Catalpa tree to everyone else.

To be precise: the Southern Catalpa (Catalpa bignonioides).
The caterpillar of the Catalpa sphinx moth (Ceratomia catalpae) feeds on catalpa leaves, sometimes defoliating entire trees. But it's also "treated with mystical reverence and respect by southern anglers," since according to most grandfathers it's the bait of choice for catfish and bream.
Bream is of course pronounced "brim". Around here, anyway.
This site has it wrong though, I think, when it comes to the explanation of why we pronounce it Cataba or Catawba.
In another display of regional pride and colloquialism, many fishermen in North and South Carolina use the names "Catawba worm" and "Catawba tree"-- misnomers that arose because the Catawba River flows through both states.
It's not just Carolinans. My grandfather in Georgia said Cataba, and Alabamians do too. Maybe Carolinians add more of a "w" sound though, I'm not sure.
There is also a Northern catalpa (Catalpa speciosa), which is very similar, apparently to the point that some botanists think the two species should be lumped together.
Another somewhat similar species is the non-native Royal Palownia (Palownia tomentosa) (a.k.a. Empress tree or Princess tree), which has purple blooms.
Oh, and one more thing. To many southerners, there is scarcely a thing more irritating on earth than a fake southern accent. If any actors read this, I beg you - I implore you! - to never try imitating a southern accent. Please. I almost had to walk out of the theater during the previews of Cold Mountain. Unless you're Holly Hunter or Beth Grant, I don't want to hear it.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

Fallen


Fallen Sycamore leaf. (Platanus occidentalis.)

They seem to take the drought stress worse than most other trees here.
I walked out of a meeting last night and felt like I was stepping into a sauna. It's hot, it's been hot, it will be hot... but you really don't expect 90°F at 9:00 PM. (That's 32°C, for those of you in the metric world.)

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Ready, set, surf!

Yesterday, Hannah, Alec & Sharon took Clare (8) and her mom, Karin, to 63rd Street Beach.
Ready.
Set.
Surf!

Monday, March 3, 2008

Oh, To Be a Bookseller



Half-way through the afternoon he stopped stock-still in the middle of the floor, Pride and Prejudice in one hand and Wuthering Heights in the other, to deliver a homily on the profession of a bookseller.

"It is the most friendly vocation in the world," Grandfather announced. "A bookseller is the link between mind and mind, the feeder of the hungry, very often the binder up of wounds. There he sits, your bookseller, surrounded by a thousand minds all done up neatly in cardboard cases; beautiful minds, courageous minds, strong minds, wise minds, all sorts and conditions. And there come into him other minds, hungry for beauty, for knowledge, for truth, for love, and to the best of his ability he satisfied them all...Yes....It's a great vocation."

From A City of Bells by Elizabeth Goudge