A Movement of Clouds

 

Partly Cloudy Skies, Grandview Park, March 5, 2023

I don't know if I'd been dreaming, but I woke up thinking life is like getting a block of stone when we're born, and we spend our lives learning how to sculpt it. Some people seem to be born with an internal vision of what their final shape should be, although surprises sometimes live even in stone. Other people chisel first one form, then another and another, and later in life, there's very little stone left to work, and their shape becomes a sphere around which passing clouds sail and billow on the wind.

Once again this morning I drove over to Grandview Park on the chance of catching a rainbow, and this time my disappointment was realizing it was too early in the morning for the bow to be in the right position (arcing over Mt. Tamalpais). But since I was already there, and my coffee had no doubt already cooled back on my desk at home, I set up the camera for a timelapse and waited to experience whatever nature had on offer. 

Although the cloud action was mainly over the Marin Headlands, a line of clouds formed up in the west with the promise of a good rainbow angle. I changed lenses and pointed the camera toward them, keeping my camera bag ready for a quick exit from the swiftly approaching rain. The clouds blew in from the ocean and darkened the western edge of the city, casting a giant shadow that moved toward me like a solar eclipse. 

There would have been a great rainbow -- if only the clouds had been showering. Drat. No rain fell, but the temperature dropped precipitously as soon as the shadow fell upon me, so I packed up my gear and headed home for breakfast as the clouds continued their eastward journey.

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Tangled Up In Blue

 

Crow & Hawk in Urban Web of Life

I was sitting at the front gate after putting out a couple of used bike tires for someone to come pick up. I'd just put them on Craigslist "free stuff" and someone responded right away. It's been my experience that people don't always come, even after saying they'll be right over. And they never tell you that they've changed their plans. Non-human animals are much easier to understand.

The cat (who's doing much better after getting some medicine from the vet) was sitting with me, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. When a large leashed dog made a lunge for her, I was proud to see that she hardly flinched while giving him her best "Keep walking, buster" look. As the dog and its walker headed down the sidewalk I saw the crow that had been squawking. The cat doesn't like crows, but this crow wasn't squawking at a cat.

I'd been thinking about bringing my camera along on my bike rides for the last couple of weeks because I've been hearing and seeing red-shouldered hawks more than usual. In a nice twist of fate, this one actually came to me, perching on the web of wires a few doors down. I don't think the hawk was bothered by the crow, but I probably got a little too close for its comfort. Either that, or it gave up on the white-crowned sparrow that had been singing so boldly from the top of the bush below, but was now safely hidden in the shrubbery depths.

Exit, Stage Left (With Crow In Hot Pursuit)

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Mountain Cams

 

Snow on the Mountains, March 2, 2023

I wasn't able to make it up to Mt. Tam when it snowed on Friday, February 24, but at least my trail cams were there, and thankfully some passing deer set them off. The lens on one of the cams had a big glop of snow obscuring much of the view, but even that was kind of fun to see.

What surprised me when I biked up there yesterday was the view toward the city, with snow still clinging to the peaks of the inner coast ranges, at least 65 miles away.

The one surprise on the cams was a couple of people who hiked through along the deer trail, coming from who-knows-where. There are no marked trails anywhere near there. I'd love to know where they started out and where they exited. They noticed both cams and the woman contemplated dancing for one of them, but the guy didn't seem into it. The one cam that picks up audio gave me a smile when it caught the guy looking at the tiny Foxelli cam and saying, "This doesn't exactly look official, does it?" I've seen a couple of the "official" cams, and he's right. Theirs were bigger, much more expensive, and were either out of reach or locked to something, or both.

City View with Snow on the Mountains
(as seen from the H. Dana Bowers Memorial Vista Point north of the Golden Gate Bridge)

It's so rarely low tide when I pass this point going to and from the mountain that I couldn't resist stopping to snap a picture. The tide had been much higher when I rode by on my way up the mountain a few hours earlier. Compare with this scene from when I was there a little over a week ago. The black-necked stilts, American avocets, and wigeons were all still there, along with numerous gulls who were feeding on the Richardson Bay mud flats.

The Japanese-flagged Plumeria Leader, a vehicle carrier, sits anchored at low tide in San Francisco Bay, perhaps waiting for the tide to rise enough to continue its journey (view from Sausalito waterfront).

Blacktailed Jackrabbit
(composite image)

Fresh Powder: Snow on Mt. Tamalpais

A Little Later it Has Melted a Bit

Fox Captured in Beam of Foxelli Cam

Turkeys Heading Over the Hill as Coyote Appears

In this composite image showing the bobcat moving across the frame, it looks like the cat is moving directly toward the second cam. I couldn't believe it when I sorted through the more than 2,000 frames from that cam, many of which simply showed trees blowing in the wind, and could not find the expected pictures. I figure the cat either darted up the hill after leaving the Foxelli frame, or the second cam simply malfunctioned at a very inopportune moment.

Tam Cam Video Clips

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