Street Flowers

 

Hummingbird Sage (Salvia spathacea)

I first encountered hummingbird sage in Santa Barbara. As a wildflower, its natural range does not include the Bay Area. However, it's also a popular horticultural plant that happens to do pretty well in people's gardens here. The plant I photographed here appears to have escaped the confines of its nearby garden, but I suspect the gardener (a neighbor) actually seeded the soil beneath a couple of street trees. 

I have yet to catch a hummingbird feeding on them as I walk by, but it seems like just the kind of thing they would like.

Note the resinous sepals and bracts. This can be a very sticky plant to handle.

Street Garden

Stairway Garden

Garden Snail

I wondered what explains the dotted trail and found some serious (and not-so-serious) guesses here at New Scientist.

The scientific name was Helix aspersa when I was in a first-year zoology class decades ago. We were taught that Latin names are used because Latin is a "dead language." Word meanings don't change the way they do in living languages. However, I do think it's kind of funny that the common name for garden snails remains the same after all these years, while the scientific name now is Cornu aspersum. Taxonomy never sleeps.

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Golden Days

 

California Poppy

I've been thinking about these poppies (Eschscholzia californica) for a few days. They're growing in a yard across the street, in front of an unoccupied house that has been undergoing a lot of refurbishment since the nice old lady who lived there moved in with her family. Even with no one living there, I felt just a tiny bit guilty when I walked over this afternoon and picked out a pair to photograph in my living room.

Even though I've been thinking about doing it for a few days, I finally had the time and inclination today, maybe enhanced by having watched, just yesterday, an inspiring film about the photographer Paul Strand, called Under the Dark Cloth (on Kanopy). 

These close-ups are all uncropped focus-stacked images, something that would be nearly impossible to shoot in the wild due to subject movement caused by the wind. Click any image to see them larger.

These bleeding hearts (Dicentra formosa) are from our own yard....

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Herons in the Park

 

Prowling Night Heron

I'd thought about going to Mt. Tam this morning before continuing on to Duxbury Reef, but I'm glad I changed my mind before trying to cross the Golden Gate Bridge, which was closed for hours by protesters. Instead I took my usual walk to the beach, followed by a bike ride through the park, where I was surprised to see a black-crowned night heron hunting from the broken-down tree branches on Metson Lake.

Cattails at Metson Lake

Plantain Border at Metson Lake

Cattails and Calla Lilies

The heron eventually moved to a new location without making any stabs at the fish swimming by. 

A Townsend's warbler was hoping to get a crack at bathing in a nearby puddle of water but its hopes were dashed by a robin who got there first.

I only spotted the townie (and a red-breasted nuthatch that was too fast for me) after I stopped to watch a great blue heron hunting for gophers in a meadow bordered with white English daisies and blue forget-me-nots.

Ocean Beach this morning.

Cat Graphic

It's so hard to sleep in the daytime with all that light coming in the window....

Fuzzy Girl

No wonder my phone is full of cat pictures....

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Serpentine Gold

 

Goldfields in Serpentine Soil, Mt. Tamalpais

I took a ride up to Mt. Tam yesterday to check on my trail cams for the first time in a month (and picked up my first tick of the year). I'd meant to check them a week after putting them in a new location but never got around to it. There were hundreds of captures on the SD cards, and the rechargeable batteries were almost dead. 

A mass of earwigs had taken up residence behind one of the cams, nestling between the back of the cam and the bark of the Douglas fir tree it was strapped to. Perhaps they enjoyed not just the protection of the camera itself, but the warmth of the battery compartment.

I packed up the cams to take home until I can decide on a new location, then continued riding up the mountain to check out the wildflower situation. I could tell from a long way off that none of the big patches of sky lupine or showy silverbush lupine were happening, and indeed I found only a few scattered plants flowering among thick grasses. 

Taking a left at Rock Spring I looked forward to seeing what was coming up in the recently burned meadow just north of the serpentine outcrop, but it was the serpentine outcrop itself that had all the wildflowers. I guess the exotic, old-world grasses don't do well enough in serpentine soils to crowd out the natives.

At a glance it looks like there's nothing but goldfields, but closer inspection reveals a few other species thriving here as well. The meadow across the street was burned over the winter but so far isn't producing much in the way of showy wildflowers.

Bees and other insects were busy gathering pollen and nectar from the cream cups  (Platystemon californicus) growing among the goldfields.

Reaching for the Sun

Lots of little purple phacelias (Phacelia divaricata) found the serpentine to their liking as well.

A California ringlet (Coenonympha california) holds on tight to gather nectar from a goldfield flower (Lasthenia californica).

A well-camouflaged western fence lizard basks on a warm, lichen-crusted chunk of serpentine near a patch of goldfields.

Ditto for this guy.

I knew what this was as soon as I saw it from the road, but I've never seen one so high up the mountain. Note San Francisco skyline in the distance.

I believe it's Western Giant Puffball (Calvatia booniana). These were still pretty fresh and firm, but eventually they will fill with yellow-brown spores that will spread on the wind (and cover your shoe) if you kick one....

The sky lupine bloom of another year (4/18/2021).

Numerous fairy slipper orchids were blooming in their usual place next to the portable toilets at the top of the Bootjack parking lot.

I knew as soon as I arrived that I was going to have lots of deer captures on the SD card. There were deer lays all over the place. Many young bucks were just beginning to grow out their antlers.

A gray fox passed through only twice in the month. I'd hoped to catch a bobcat coming toward the camera through that notch, but no such luck.

Jackrabbits were the main event at this location, with just a few deer, a couple of foxes, and just one coyote.

Sometimes you get a nice surprise, like this red-tailed hawk. Although it appears to be about to land, it actually did a touch-and-go, like a jet practicing on an aircraft carrier. If it caught something before flying away, I couldn't tell.

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Eclipsed

 

Magic Pinhole Eclipse :)

A neighbor asked me to move his morning newspaper into his porch vestibule for a few days while he is visiting a relative -- in Cincinnati, Ohio. What a totality lucky guy!

As you can see from the photo above, I'd been looking for a suitable pinhole to view our measly partial eclipse and got a mushroom instead. (My wife created the image by poking pinholes in a sheet of thick paper.)

I took a bike ride down to the Giant Camera at the Cliff House, hoping they would have a great pinhole view of whatever eclipse could be seen here, but it was closed. I tried to work something out with the webbing from my bike helmet, but that was pretty unconvincing, then strolled over to get the view over Sutro Baths and noticed a dead baby seal on the beach, with gulls beginning to take an interest, and when I strolled back I saw that the Giant Camera was about to open after all.

Never having been in there before in all my years of living in San Francisco, I paid the grand sum of $2 to get inside. It was interesting, but unfortunately it was not set up to view the eclipse. So, like everybody else stuck in partial-world, I did the next best thing and watched it online (and took a few screenshots).

Nice clear day for an eclipse viewing....

Bike helmet mesh viewing....

Baby seal washed onto the beach at Sutro Baths.

View inside the Giant Camera. The image rotates 360 degrees but probably wouldn't work well for even a total eclipse.

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Alt Takes

 

Ladybird Beetle Getting Around a Lupine Leaf

Just wanted to include alternative takes on some of the Anza-Borrego shots....

Also, I was surprised to log so many miles on this journey. My trip odometer rolled over 1,000 miles on the way to Dante's View in Death Valley, yet I still had another 715 miles to go. Although gas prices were high, they were well worth the cost. I calculated that my car averaged about 6.57 miles per dollar, which seems pretty good, even if the alternative would be riding a bike -- and especially if the alternative would be walking across a desert.

Chuparosa & Beavertail Cactus

Tightly packed amigos on a barrel cactus.

Unfurling cholla blossoms.

This lone verbena looks like it could have been seen out at Abbotts Lagoon at Pt. Reyes, or many other California beaches.

Here's a dark morph version of the white-lined sphynx moth caterpillars. It was rare to see one on the ground unless it was...

...like this. There was a black blister beetle feeding on this carcass when I first saw it, but I got too close too fast, and the beetle scuttled for cover beneath a nearby shrub. D'oh! Kind of funny, but I consider that scene with the beetle "the one that got away," the shot I most regret having missed.

Here's a more extreme close-up of a caterpillar feasting on flower parts. You can click on any image to make it bigger (900 pixels high).

This is similar to a shot I already posted, but it includes a desert trumpet (Eriogonum inflatum) sprouting through the evening primrose plant.

Downpours loom in the background, and low light keeps the yellow flowers from opening up all the way. For me, the stormy weather is what made the trip worthwhile. Many years ago I did a couple of hikes with a group called Desert Survivors. Their hike descriptions always included a caveat similar to the typical "Rain Cancels," except theirs was "Rain Enhances." On desert trips, I couldn't agree more.

Cinder Cone
(Somewhere between Anza-Borrego and Joshua Tree.)

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