Sunday, November 16, 2025

Yellow-rump Country

 

Yellow-rumped Warbler in Buckeye, SF Botanical Garden

I've been reading another book by the biochemist Nick Lane, called Power, Sex, Suicide: Mitochondria and the Meaning of Life. The principal characters in this drama aren't people, but the cells and organelles such as mitochondria that comprise our bodies. 

The intricacy of life always blows my mind. I think about the warbler in the photo above starting out as a single-celled zygote, invisible to the naked eye, now a completely put-together flying animal that swoops through tree branches and hawks after termites lifting into the sunshine's warmth. 

And of course, the guy making the photograph started out as a single-celled zygote too. Yet somehow, each of us single-celled zygotes knew how to grow ourselves into a bird or a human or any other kind of critter. Yes, DNA plays a role, but think about the intricacy and origin of DNA and your mind gets blown all over again. We do not understand how we got here. 

Yet here we are! Amazing. Such an awesome world, and it's an honor to be a living part of this deepest of all great mysteries.


I was impressed by the volume of resin being dripped out by the cones of this spruce (Picea alcoquiana) in the botanical garden.


This squirrel seemed glad to have some sunshine to sploot out in after all the rain we've been having.


A few golden-crowned sparrows were burrowed into dead leaves, also soaking up the sun.


Golden-crowned Sparrows & Western Bluebird


Yellow-rumped Warbler




Some ravens chased a red-tailed hawk across the sky.


Townsend's Warbler










Wind-ruffled Feathers


Western Bluebird with Grasshopper




Ruby-crowned Kinglet


White-crowned Sparrow


This pipevine swallowtail butterfly was flitting around the part of the garden where it was probably born. The area has since been ripped out and is being replanted, but several pipevine plants were allowed to remain. It'll be interesting to see if there's enough pipevine left to feed caterpillars in the spring.

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Friday, November 14, 2025

After the River

 

Purple Finch Eating Berries, Golden Gate Park

When the latest storm was being forecast, it was being called an "atmospheric river," and I wondered why that term seems to be used almost every time it rains these days. I asked Google AI and got this response:

"The term 'atmospheric river' is being used more frequently for storms because it's a scientifically accurate and descriptive name for the long, narror bands of water vapor in the sky that carry significant moisture. While the phenomenon isn't new, the broader term was coined by researchers in the 1990s to describe these moisture-laden plumes, which often look like rivers from a satellite's perspective. Media and weather services are now using the more technical term to better communicte the storm's potential impact, especially when compared to older, more regional names like the 'Pineapple Express.'"

I kept digging a little more and found an excellent story posted two days ago on KQED's web site. One interesting takeaway is that atmospheric rivers aren't always a "big bad storm." They can also be "quite gentle, gradual, or beneficial," according to a climate scientist. 

The one we just had seemed to fit the "beneficial" bill, at least around here. 


These might be toyon berries, though they look a bit pale.


Whatever they were, the purple finch was into them. A nearby robin wanted to get some but was too fearful in my presence. The finch said, "Fine, more for me."


Golden-crowned Sparrow, Oak Woodlands


A small bee bumped into the snare and triggered the spider to swoop in from hiding. But the bee didn't get stuck, so (not to waste a trip) the spider added a little more webbing then scuttled back to her hidden lair.


There were three snares that had elongated tubes engulfed in webbing nearby. This one looked like a caterpillar. There were several very tiny spiders moving away from it, and I wondered if they had recently hatched from within.


First Flush of Honey Mushrooms, Fuchsia Dell


The Dell also had a few of these lattice stinkhorn mushrooms that had grown too tall to support their own weight (perhaps after becoming waterlogged in the storm).


The red-shouldered hawk was noisily sqawking for attention, but it flew away almost as soon as I looked up at it.


Calla Leaves


Calla Lily


Trumpet Flower Near Lily Lake


Soft-looking pillows of chicken-of-the-woods fungus were growing out of a eucalyptus that also sprouted them last year and the year before.


Termite Hatch, Golden Gate Heights


I encountered the first termite hatch a block from home, but the one in the video is from Golden Gate Park. A large dragonfly was snatching them out of the air, but I was unable to photograph it. Another hatch at North Lake was being picked off by yellow-rumped warblers.


I guess the Cliff House is going to keep its name when it's refurbished and reopened, possibly in late 2026. Assuming that happens, I hope visitors will still be able to freely walk out on the back deck to take in the view.


One of the red-tailed hawks that hangs around the northern end of the Great Highway had just pounced on something but didn't come up with a strike.


After perching on the sign, it made another strike attempt and again came up empty. I watched it make three unsuccessful strikes in maybe five minutes.


After giving the meadow at Balboa Natural Area one last look, the hawk soon took off across the highway (thankfully just high enough to avoid being hit by a car) to perch over a patch of ice plant in the hope of spotting a mouse.

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Wednesday, November 12, 2025

Hazelnut

 

Backyard Hazelnut

My novice effort to pollinate the backyard hazel tree netted one (count 'em!) decent nut. I just noticed it yesterday and decided today that I wanted to photograph it. I'd forgotten how beautiful the bracts surrounding the nut could be. The leaf in the background is also from the hazel. Quite a few were blowing off the tree as I sat beneath it in the winds of the gathering storm.

I also noticed a spider in its web as I was coming up the stairs, so I went back to photograph it after the hazelnut. When I got there and put my lens on it at a 1:1 reproduction ratio, it appeared to be an ex-spider (as they used to say on Monty Python's Flying Circus). I wondered if it waited and waited in its web without ever snaring any prey, and finally just succumbed when its metabolism could no longer sustain itself.








There were some beautiful lenticular clouds billowing off Mt. Shasta this morning.

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Tuesday, November 11, 2025

All-Is-One Day

 

Fallen Leaf, Mallard Lake

I've recently been meditating in the back yard for a little while after wrapping up my walk and bike ride. I even burn a little copal incense that I bought in Chicago, and which I found a little too heavy for indoor use (it set off our living room air filter to run at its maximum level). It's better out back anyway. I enjoy watching its tendril of smoke rise and drift in the breeze.

A friend used to say that 11:11 was his favorite time of day, since "all is one." I've always appreciated the humor in that, but despite being a veteran myself, I'd forgotten that Veterans Day originated as Armistice Day to commemorate the end of the First World War on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918. It was renamed as Veterans Day after a second world war and the Korean War. 

Lots of people were in the park and at the beach today. I didn't get Veterans Day off before I retired, so I wondered why it so busy out there. Almost like a weekend. Then I remembered it was a holiday for a lot of folks. It's been a beautiful day to be outdoors. I hope you got some.


Our Neighborhood Red-shouldered Hawk


Ruby-crowned Kinglet


Mallard Lake Reflections


Fall Color at Mallard Lake


Great Egret, Elk Glen Lake

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Monday, November 10, 2025

Rolling Out of the Day

 

Watching the Earth Roll Out of the Day

The sun wasn't going down. We were all spinning backwards into the night. Pretty soon we'll be upside-down, seeing stars.

I saw a couple of great horned owls this morning, snoozing in a tree. It reminded me that it might be interesting to start poking around Golden Gate Park toward day's end, when the night owls come out. Unfortunately, if they wait until dark I won't be able to photograph anything.


I wondered how they managed to fly through such a tangle of branches.


Farallons at Sunset





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