Crow, cat; a quick post

They're both black.

Crow on a windy beach. All black, even the "whites" of his eyes.

Same crow, waiting for a handout.

And Chia the cat. The "white" of her eyes is yellow.

Tomorrow, a caterpillar bed, I think.

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Un cuervo, y la gatita, "Chia"; en la categoría de "Cosas negras".

Ranting, hands-on

Something different. Off-topic, but not really.

I will never understand why people will drive off into the bush, sometimes a long drive away from town, sometimes up difficult, half-graded roads, just to dump trash. I come down a trail, all green and gold, birds singing, trees whispering in the breeze, maybe a creek mumbling to itself under the hardhack. Scents of new fir tips, old wood ... The trail turns a corner and there's a pile of household trash. Or construction material. Ruined furniture. Plastic whatever. A big-screen TV. Shoes? Recyclables? Why? 

Why, when there's a place close to home designated to handle that stuff? It costs just as much in time and gas and effort to take your pick-up load to the backside of nowhere. And the recycling depot is  free. Why, why?

It seems that there's one thing dumpers do feel a bit guilty about; toy or garden animals. I've found teddy bears in trees, in shrubbery, parked neatly beside a road. Something prevents people from just tossing them with the rest of the trash. They still get dumped, but gently.

I found this bear beside another pile of random waste in the rain, patiently waiting for his people to come back.

Pobre osito.

I went on my way, ranting a bit, of course. Then home. I kept thinking about him, though, and went back two days later to pick him up.  Unstuffed him, washed him, patched him up, re-stuffed him. Maybe I'm nuts, but it feels good to see him in my chair, warm and dry, smiling.

Good company, too.

I'm working now on a chicken and a duck, garden decor that I found halfway to nowhere, left standing apart from another dump site, as if someone knew I was coming. They needed a paint touch-up, a small hole patched, nothing more.

Wish the rest of the world were as easily fixed.

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Algo diferente. ¿Fuera de tema? Creo que no.

Nunca comprenderé porque hay gente dispuesto a ir al bosque, a veces a una buena distancia del pueblo, a veces usando caminos que apenas merecen el nombre, apenas medio cortados en el bosque, solamente para tirar su basura. Vengo caminando entre el bosque, todo verde y dorado, oyendo el canto de los pájaros, las ramas que susurran con la brisa, el comentario de un riachuelo entre los arbustos. Huele a botones nuevos de los abetos, de madera vieja ... El camino gira y allí enfrente está un montón de desperdicios caseros. O materiales de construcción. Muebles rotos. Artefactos y pedazos de plástico. Un televisor de pantalla grande. ¿Zapatos? ¿Residuos reciclables? ¿Porqué? 

¿Porqué, cuando hay un sitio cerca del pueblo destinado para disponer de esas cosas debidamente? Cuesta lo mismo tomar el tiempo, el esfuerzo, quemar la gasolina, para llevar una carga de camioneta s ese lugar escondido, que pagar a los que la tratan adecuadamente. Y el centro de recicables no cuesta nada. ¿Porqué, porqué?

Parece que hay una cosa que inspira un poco de sentido de culpabilidad; los animales de juguete o decorativos. He encontrado ositos de peluche acomodados entre las ramas de los árboles, en setos, sentados al lado de la calle. Algo hay que impide que la gente los tire en medio de los otros despercios. Los desechan, sí, pero con cariño.

Encontré este osito al lado de otro montón de basura y muebles viejos, sentado en la lluvia, esperando a que regresara sus dueños.

    1. Pobre osito.

Seguí mi camino, refunfuñando. Luego, a casa. Pero seguí recordándolo, y dos dias más tarde, lo fui a recoger. Le saqué el relleno empapado, lo lavé, le hice un parche para su pata, le volví a rellenar. Tal vez estoy loca, pero se siente bien verlo sentadito en mi silla, calientito y seco, sonriente.

    2. Ahora está feliz.

Ahora estoy restaurando una gallina y un pato, animales para decoración de un jardín que encontré lejos de la carretera; los habían dejado parados separados de sus bolsas de basura. Como si supieran que yo venía en camino. Les faltaba una mano de pintura, y el relleno de un agujero, nada más.

¡Quisiera que fuera tan fácil componer todo!

Things that Made me Happy in 2025, part II

I wander alone most of the time, these days. Except, that is, for those friends I meet on the trail, some human (and such a joy to find you out here under the trees!), and many others, the true owners of the forests and shores I'm privileged to visit.

Here are a few of those:

Raven, patrolling the Elk Falls parking lot. June.

Black bear, Buttle Lake, out for an afternoon stroll down the highway. Here he stopped to investigate something among the roadside weeds. July.

Sparrow, bringing home breakfast for the kiddies. Tyee Spit, July.

Chia, companion, midnight zoomer, keyboard stomper, brown bag destroyer. Always at the door to greet me when I come home.

Deer in snowy woods. This area, just south of Campbell River, always gets the deepest, fluffiest snow early in the season. February.

And new fawns, on my street, June.

Cute little green froggy. September, at the beaver pond, Hyw. 28.

Many not-so-good, bad, or really terrible bird photos make me happy, too. (Some make me laugh and I post them to the Worst Bird Facebook page.) This was just a speck in the distance on Roberts Lake. In my viewfinder, with the lens at maximum zoom, it was still a speck. Blowing up the photo revealed a loon, not diving, showing off his checkerboard back. August.

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Ando a solas casi siempre en estos dias. Bueno, eso es sin contar los amigos que encuentro en camino (¡y qué gusto verlos aquí bajo los árboles!) y muchos otros, los verdaderos dueños de los bosques y las aguas que tengo el privilegio de visitar.

Aquí hay unos de estos últimos:

1. Un cuervo grande, Corvus corax, vigilando el estacionamiento de Elk Falls. Junio.
2. Oso negro; caminaba por la carretera pasando Buttle Lake. Aquí se detuvo para investigar algo entre las hierbas. Julio.
3. Un gorrión, con el desayuno para sus polluelos.Tyee Spit, Julio.
4. Mi gatita, Chia; buena compañera, escandalosa a medianoche, reprogramadora de mi computadora de dia, destrozadora de bolsas de papel a cualquier hora. Siempre me recibe en la puerta cuando  regreso a casa.
5. Venado en el bosque lleno de nieve. El bosque por este rumbo, un poco al sur de Campbell River, siempre se llena de la nieve más profunda, más volátil al principio de la temporada. Febrero.
6.  Y nuevos venaditos en mi calle. Junio.
7. Una ranita verde cerca de la laguna de los castores, en la carretera 28. Septiembre.
8. Muchas fotos no tan buenas, o malas, o verdaderamente terribles también me hacen feliz. (Algunas me hacen reir y las subo a la página Facebook Worst Bird.) Vi un puntito negro en la distancia en el lago Roberts. Con la lente de la cámara a su zoom máximo, sigió siendo un puntito. Al ver la foto aumentada en casa, apareció este colimbo común, Gavia immer, que nadaba tranquilo, sin bucear, mostrando su diseño de manchas blancas y negras en forma de tablero. En agosto.

A couple of flowers and a cat

 At my window: a sort of weather/daylight report.

Inside:

Christmas cactus, Schlumbergera bridgesii

This cactus needs long, dark nights to bloom. 11 hours or more of darkness every day for 6 weeks, they say. We didn't get quite that much at the end of October, but the days have been dark enough to make up for it.

Chia the cat, watching the rain.

And just outside:

The cosmos bloomed right up to the first of December.

Today, there are cosmos buds that won't ever open; most of the stalks are down. But my alyssum is still blooming valiantly and the first knobs of bleeding hearts have pushed up through the soil. They're promising us freezing temperatures and snow a few days before Christmas. But constant rain up until then. And today we got 8 hours and 9 minutes of diluted daylight.

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 Observaciones desde mi ventana, en estos dias cortos de invierno:

Adentro:

1. Cactus de Navidad, Schlumbergera bridgesii. Este cactus necesita noches largas y oscuras para que produzca flores. Dicen que se necesitan 11 o más horas de oscuridad total por unas 6 semanas. Contando desde finales de octubre, no llegábamos a esas 11 horas, pero los dias han estado tan nublados que fue suficiente.
2. La gatita Chia, mirando la lluvia.
3. Y afuera: una de las últimas flores del cosmos. Siguió floreciendo hasta las primeras dias de diciembre.

Y hoy hay botones de cosmos que no llegarán a abrirse; casi todas las plantas están tumbadas en el suelo. Pero el aliso  sigue lleno de flores y los primeros brotes de flor sangrante (Lamprocapnos spectabilis) han aparecido, preparándose para la primavera. Los meteorológicos nos prometen temperaturas bajo cero y nieve unos pocos dias antes de Navidad. Pero hasta entonces, lluvia, lluvia, lluvia. Y hoy nos tocaron 8 horas con 9 minutos de luz solar atenuada.

Kitty loves snow

I'm cat-sitting. My landlord's teen-age (on a cat schedule) kitten will be staying here for a week. And it's snowing outside. So she comes in, climbs on me, shakes off the snow onto my face, goes to eat a bit, then cuddles up in my best chair until she's dry. Then she asks to be let out again to play in the wonderful snow.

Meet Corsa. Long-haired and fluffy; a perfect coat for snowy weather.

"What big teeth you have!"

At least Chia prefers the rain to the snow. She's staying warm and dry. And keeps her tail tucked in because Corsa attacks it if it dangles.

Chia recycles

A year ago, my daughter sent me a basket full of Christmas goodies. I'd barely taken the last item out when Chia the cat claimed the basket for a bed. A good idea; she'd been using the basket she used to fit in when she was a kitten, and she overhung the sides all around.

I fitted the basket out for her with the remains of a cushion my grandma (b. 1888) had made. It had been covered in burgundy velvet, which had by now disintegrated, but the inner portion was intact.

It was covered in the leftovers of an old grey wool Hudson's Bay blanket. I opened it up to wash it and found that the stuffing is made from the sweepings off her sewing room floor: shreds of fabric, bits of wool, and threads. Tiny ends of threads, the ones you cut off when you've finished sewing a seam, the last bit left in the eye of the needle. Altogether, it makes a soft, puffy filling. I closed up the cushion again and contented myself with vacuuming it thoroughly.

Chia loves it.

A perfect fit.

Half awake, because of the flash. Then turned herself around and went back to sleep.

I recycle everything carefully, separating and cleaning plastics, glass, cans, paper, dropping off styrofoam (mostly picked up on the beach) and batteries at the appropriate sites, sorting plastic bags, the ones that I can't substitute with my battered cloth shopping bags, or the ones that I find on the shore, into piles for the recyclers, piles to be donated to thrift shops, piles I can re-use.

But my grandmother, and the women of her generation, put me to shame. Nothing was wasted, nothing left to float off to sea or to clog up the wetlands. We should have kept it up. Life would be better, safer for all of us now, if we had.

(The blanket the basket rests on is a vintage Mexican men's wool serape, made in two sections on a waist loom.)