SNOW? IN LATE MARCH?

Question: Why have the weather folk on TV been looking a bit embarrassed the last few days?

Answer: Because after several nice days of spring-like weather and warmth, they are at a loss to explain SNOW and 32 degrees on March 28th.
Aint no joke though. Snow covering the lawn this morning.
Then lots of hail and snow pellets in the afternoon.
And behold, fantasyland.

Then snow and plenty of it for a while. First the deck and then the shrubs are covered, and the cars, and the woodpile, and all the other surfaces other than the (warmer) driveway.

When the granddaughters came in late afternoon, the sun even peaked out while it was still snowing, and Jessica took my camera out to photograph this daffodill wearing a crown of ice.

Totally neat. And what will April look like in a few days?

A Lion? or a Pussycat?

ONE LAST WOODPECKER POSTING

In the spirit of full disclosure: this is more of a postscript to the previous series than a serious blog of its own.

I have had one other woodpecker visit this property, but the chances of ever getting its picture are about the same as my taking a stroll on the moon and finding that golf ball one of the astronauts slugged into oblivion.

Only three times in over twenty years, and not at all in the last decade, has a pileated woodpecker passed through this neighborhood and qualified to be on my personal home bird list. The rule is the bird has to land on our property long enough to be accurately identified/verified; if I can validate the sighting in at least two ways (books, online pictures, or by a photograph which is confirmed by another birder) I will add it to my yard list. Currently I have over sixty birds on this list. Note: I also keep a sub-list of birds which have flown over some portion of this acre and a quarter without stopping for a chat, but which I believe to be accurately identified.

The Pileated Woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus) is huge and very dramatic. An adult is as much as 18" to 20" tall, it is a very "angular" looking bird, very shy if you are stalking it, and it has awesome coloration. It is a gorgeous bird, even if it looks rather geekish, and however awkward it might seem at first glance, it is a magnificent flyer, being both precise and powerful.

Because I don't have a home based photograph and can't find my "in the woods" picture (in which the bird is too distant to really be well seen), I am going to refer you to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology - a great site devoted to the study of birds - to the page which illustrates and describes this giant woodpecker.

http://www.birds.cornell.edu/AllAboutBirds/BirdGuide/Pileated_Woodpecker_dtl.html

If you ever spot "The Pileated" in the wild, you will probably be well away from towns and farms and near some deep woods. Even if you don't remember its name, you will have no doubt as to what species you are seeing since no one will ever confuse this woodpecker with any other woodpecker, or for that matter with any other bird extant or extinct.

Do me a favor. If you do see one of these beauties someday, watch it closely, observe every detail of its appearance and behavior, note the location and the time of day and call me. I'd love to hear all about it, and I might have a try at visiting it myself.

A "LARGER" WOODPECKER, THE FLICKER

THE NORTHERN FLICKER (Colaptes auratus)

Since I first started posting pictures of my local woodpeckers, I have been trying weekly to capture a good shot of this fellow which would give an accurate impression of his size and considerable dignity as the largest of the commonly seen Northwest woodpeckers. The problem is that flickers are especially shy. At least three pairs and their offspring have been resident somewhere nearby for the past year, and counting offspring from last summer, we now have nine or ten flickers in this neighborhood. But day after day I have taken dozens of pictures and rarely taken a nice likeness. I have trashed a hundred tries in which the bird was partially hidden by a branch, blurred by his constant bobbing about, or not in the photo at all as he had so quickly split.

A MALE OF THE "RED-SHAFTED" VARIETY

This is probably the most common westcoast kind of flicker. Boldly patterned, its most dramatic feature is the color inside its wings and tail which are lined with a rich, salmon-red color that flashes spectacularly when it takes flight. The male above is identified by the red blaze below the eye from the bill to below its "ear" area. Both sexes have the black breast band below a grayish to faintly red neck; below the dark band the chest, belly, and underparts are generously spotted. Another striking feature easily noted in flight is the prominent white patch on the rump. This bird is a full 12" or a little more from crown to tail-tip, giving him quite an dominant apparance among the other, smaller birds at the suet feeder. In trees, while he can sit a branch as do other birds, he tends to prefer the position of clinging to the vertical trunk sections like any woodpecker. This bird also spends a lot of time on the ground or in deep grass feeding on insects and grubbing on the lawn. He is willing, in fact, to dig a 4" to 5" funnel-like hole as he attempts to snag and extricate a large worm.

A HARD WORKING ACROBAT

Oddly, it was easier to capture him in this awkward position hanging nearly upside-down than it was to get a good shot of him upright but not hiding behind a tree limb or crouching behind the suet cage. Whenever one of these flickers would begin to approach to feed, it became clear that his eye was as much on me, sitting inside at the dining room table, as it was on anything else. If I was to move, even slightly, or if I was wearing a bright colored shirt, especially red, he would veer off and land at a safe distance to watch a while. If he could see any further motion - my raising a camera, for example - and he detected it, he would be gone for quite a while, maybe for hours. Truly he is a hard subject to photograph. Only when he was hard at work hanging on and trying to feed was he not watching me closely. Even now I wish I had better pictures to offer of this fine looking bird.

A PRE-SPRING VICTORY - PRUNING IS DONE

One of the Apple trees

With typical weather in Vancouver at winter's end, it can be a chore to find enough clear and warm days before spring in which to prune my little "gentleman's orchard". This week the task was finished, leaving only a handful of crabapples and dogwoods on the north property line left to complete in the house-yard area out front.

Pick-up Sticks

The general game of "sticks" is fun enough, and challenging too, if you have a good set of wooden sticks with tapered ends to work with. Picking up these sticks is always the pits. A backache and general soreness are guaranteed. Several days of hot baths helps soak out the lumbago or cricks or whatever the hurt is called.

Soon after pruning...

It is not long, however, before some of the reward and promise is evident. This tree, a plum-cherry hybrid, always blooms first, followed in turn by the others - apples, plums, cherries, asian pears, and domestic pears. The flowers promise the setting of fruit and remind me of the hope of fruit in harvest months. It is still rather cold, so I hope a few warm days come quickly to wake up the mason bees and other insects to help spread the pollen.

MY WORST CAREER MISTAKE

I don't mean this as a confession really, but it is true. I really (and I do mean Really!!) admire anyone who can type smoothly and effortlessly, because I can't type well at all.

Perhaps someone will pass my sad story along to a youngster, and save them 50+ years of frustration and countless hours of time spent finding and correcting, revising and retyping stupid errors.

I never learned to type correctly and efficiently. I can't look at a text and key it in without shifting my view to see where the specific keys are located. I envy those who can.

Every time I use a keyboard to enter text, I suffer enormous agonies and spend up to a third of my time discovering and backspacing to correct mistyped letters. The first key to wear out on my machines is that "Backspace" button. I am truly weary of this crippling weakness.

Kids, take an old man's advice: As soon as you are old enough and have the opportunity, take a typing class or diligently work your way through a typing program that will let you develop a error-free 40 or 50 words per minute, or more! Stick to it. Master each lesson and skill until typing becomes automatic and as easy as breathing.

Save yourself years of frustration and thousands of hours of tedium which you would probably spend in happier ways - like sleeping or eating hot fudge sundaes!

Learn to spell, too!

Cheers!

A STEADFAST WIFE

I know none of you who check this space now and then expected to see a picture of my underwear this time, but here it is - my portion of the week's clean, folded laundry. I am making a point of featuring it in my blog this week because it represents a unique story.

As you may have read in my last entry, Betty and I just celebrated forty-four years together. Counting all the days, including an extra day in each leap-year, like in 2008, plus ten days since the actual anninversary (the 23rd of February), that comes in somewhere close to 16,080 days since we signed the marriage certificate.

You see, to the best of my memory, in all those 44 years there has never been a day on which I did not have clean undies and socks to wear - or shirts, or pants, or towels or linens to use, or whatever. Furthermore, I have never had to do my own laundry with the very slim possible exception of when I was on an lengthy trip away from home. Collectively, that represents a lot of loads of laundry, a small ocean of water, a mountain of soap, and a blizzard of anti-static dryer sheets.

This is more than mere routine. It is a loving example of steadfastness, constancy, reliability, and perseverance. I'm mostly trained to get my dirty stuff into the desiginated basket, but there is quite a process which occurs beyond that: sorting by color and fabric type, hauling from bedroom closet to the utility room, hoisting and stuffing it all into the top-loading washer, setting the controls, adding the soap and other cleaners, returning later to lift the wet items up and out and over the edge to toss into the front-loading dryer, setting more dials and waiting again, until time to gather up the result, toteing it all to a bed or couch to sort, fold, and redistribute to the right bedside locations to be put away again. That sequence occurs for every single, individual load run on every laundry day and several times more during the week as clean things are needed. In addition, guests for meals and those who stay overnight or longer always generate extra fodder for the machines. And typically, this dirty week's pile was transformed by mid-day Monday! Amazing!

I never hear a complaint! And to my shame, she hardly ever hears a complement. This blog is one effort to repair that inequity.

Maybe some days I didn't wear undies (I could have beeen sick and in my jammies all day ) and sometimes I wore more than one pair a day (also for a variety of possible reasons) but I bet the average is close to one-a-day, or 16,080 so far, and that represents a mountain of undies and other dirty clothes you have climbed in love for me. I don't think I have always deserved it. [Aside to any fellows reading this: Theologically this is known as "agape" love; a totally selfless love expressed unendingly with no expectation (or need) for repayment. It is the way husbands need to love their wives.]

You have done well, Betty, and faithfully, and dependably. Your ceaseless labor in this regard has always been appreciated, but let the world know I should have said so sooner, and more often. I love you for a multitude of reasons, and for just being the sweet, christian lady you are, but I love you in a special, unique way every morning, even before I'm fully awake, because I can pull on fresh, clean skivvies!

THANK YOU!

PS (And how do I say this delicately?) She is equally effective with "household porcelain" too.