Far Away

These scenes of Mono Lake, warm and cool, are far away in space as well as time. Theoretically I could get in my car and be there well before today's sunset, but I'll settle for looking at the pictures and imagine I'm there already.

My recollection of the visit when I made these pictures on a presumably chilly morning in March, thirty-two years ago, is pretty hazy, if it even qualifies for that much distinction. Yet I've been there enough times over the years that my imagination feels very present on the tufa-strewn shore.

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Sleeping in Dew

Sleeping Bee in Dew, Pt. Reyes

I'm just going through some shots I haven't posted here before, photos taken in the month of March in past years, like this bee and caterpillar who seem to have been caught by cold temperatures that forced them to sit tight through the night.

Dewy Caterpillar, Pt. Reyes

Having to sit tight has suddenly become something we can all relate to. And maybe we can all just take it in stride like a humble honeybee or wooly bear caterpillar, and carry on when the sun warms us back to life.

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Diversions

Tahoe Cams

Tiburon Cam

Yosemite Cam

Lassen Cam

Waikiki Cam

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March Bobcat

Hard to believe this encounter happened in Tennessee Valley nine years ago. It was such a singular event, it seems like yesterday.

Sleeping.

Preening.

Leaping.

Feeding.

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Manzanita Munchers

Besides the several hundred empty frames fired off by insects or flitting birds at this trap over the last couple of weeks, the only thing I noticed that hadn't shown up in the last batch was the deer browsing manzanita. Maybe new leaves are coming out that are just tender enough to be palatable. The manzanita have also come into bloom, which might explain the sudden and major increase of empty frames set off by flying insects, of which only the butterflies were big enough to notice.

Young buck about to nosh on manzanita.

Bewick's Wren

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Cloudscapes

Enjoying the cloud views from our apartment yesterday. A few people out on Twin Peaks, and a lone jet taking people where they need to go.

A little later....

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Elk & Wildflowers

March has long been one of my favorite months, especially at Pt. Reyes, as wildflowers spring their colors on newly greened hillsides and animals feast in a land restored to plenty. 

Even though I hunker down against the ravages of a single-celled organism that's creating havoc around the world, the possibility of real danger still feels remote.

Yet I know that, along with the greening and colors and renewal of March, it is also the month when ticks stretch their legs from leaf tips to await a passing animal, humans included.

The yin and the yang, the constantly grappling forces of nature, are the intricate mechanisms of the grand adventure of being alive in the world.

So I stretch my bones with a downward dog...

...and savor the awesome beauty of it all.

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Poppies

Sierra Poppies

Diablo Poppies

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Two Bouquets

Seaside Daisies, Tennessee Valley

Dune Wallflowers, Pt. Reyes

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Three Trees

According to the forecast, the rain was going to be relatively mild on Mt. Tam this morning, and since the wind is supposed to come up tomorrow I figured I should head up to swap batteries and SD cards on my trail cameras. 

It was good to find that I could walk silently on the forest floor again, now that everything's wet and spongy, and the moss jackets on the trees were looking bold and sassy.

The woods were kind of spooky along the game trails. Back in the day I could have been stalked by mountain lions or even grizzly bears out here, and maybe some of that memory remains encoded in our neural net to give us a little thrill of fear. I figure it's never a bad idea to just be still and listen, though, and to move deliberately and with unconstrained awareness.

Now, instead of megafauna, we're being stalked by microbes -- and by "we" I mean the whole civilized world. Luckily we still have places like Mt. Tam where it's easy to manage one's social distancing. I encountered only four people on the trail, which was actually a little surprising since I was on human trails for only a short part of the route. 

I carried my big golf umbrella with me -- my portable cave -- and after I'd finished with the trail cams I found a nice place to sit (in my rain pants) and sip hot coffee while listening to the forest music of wind and falling rain.

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