Thoughts on triple anniversaries

 A sort of rambling, stream of conscience post:

It's Canada Day today (for another hour, anyhow) and I'm sitting at home with the cat. It's the first time I've missed the fireworks down on the pier, so I never saw how she reacted before. She's been sitting upright, on high alert, ears stiff, eyes wide, the pupils dilated, staring at one window after another, ever since the noise started. I'm only about 3 blocks and a bit of water from the fireworks, so they're loud here, even with the windows shut. I kept reassuring her, "it's all right, don't worry, nothing's happening ..." She couldn't believe me.

Maybe we should find other ways to celebrate. Sure, the fireworks are pretty, but there are hundreds of cats and dogs and rabbits within hearing distance. Birds, too. And the deer that browse in our gardens. It's not right to be scaring them like this.

And about me staying home. Too tired to go out today, maybe a bit too sore.

Anniversaries coming up, besides Canada Day. Personal anniversaries. The blog is one; I started this blog July 3, 2006, that's 17 years ago this Monday. At the time, I'd been experimenting: could I come up with something to say every day and stick to it? I thought I could, and so far, up until this last year, I've missed very few days, posting 5392 times, or an average (brought down this year) of 317 posts per year. Recently, though, it's more like every second day.

And that has to do with the other anniversary. My birthday. I'll be 81. The years do creep up, and I'm slowing down, grumbling about sore knees and back. My hair is turning white around the edges, and my eyes complain when I spend too long at the screen.

Old Timber Eagle

My old friend, the eagle who stands on the museum lawn. I feel a kinship with him; hard worn, with a gimpy shoulder, but still out among the trees.

Under his chin.

But at least there are no spider webs on me. Yet.

And I'll keep on blogging.

P.S. The cat has finally, an hour and a half after the fireworks stopped, gone to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pensamientos sobre aniversarios.

Hoy es el dia nacional, Canada Day, (por lo menos por una hora todavía) y yo estoy en casa con mi gatita. Es la primera vez que no bajo al muelle para ver los fuegos artificiales en este dia, y nunca antes vi como reacciona la gata al oirlos. Desde que empezaron los estruendos, se ha estado en alerta máxima, erguida y tiesa, con las orejas a lo más alto, los ojos grandes, con las pupilas dilatadas. Se da vuelta para mirar una ventana tras otra. Estoy apenas unas tres cuadras del muelle, y aun con las ventanas cerradas, se oye cada explosión bien claro. Le digo a la gata — No te preocupes, no es nada, estoy contigo, no pasa nada — No me cree.

Estoy pensando que tal vez deberíamos buscar otro modo de celebrar. Si, los fuegos son lindos, pero hay cientos de gatos y perros y conejitos en las casas alrededor. Y una multitud de pájaros en los árboles. Y venados, los que bajan a comer de nuestros jardines. No está bien espantarlos de esta manera.

Acerca de que me quedé en casa. Me sentía muy cansada. Y un poco adolorida.

Hay otros dos aniversarios pendientes. Aniversarios personales. Este blog por uno. Empecé el blog el 6 de julio de 2006, hará 17 años el lunes. En esos dias había estado probando si podría tener algo para decir a diario, sin fallar. Creí que sí, y hasta ahora, he perdido pocos dias, subiendo 5392 posts, un promedio de 317 posts por año. (El promedio ha bajado por mi flojera en este último año, cuando subo por lo general 3 o 4 posts por semana.)

Y esa flojera es a causa, pienso, del otro aniversario; mi cumpleaños. Este año cumplo 81. Los años avanzan, y yo voy enlenteciéndome, quejándome de rodillas adoloridas y una espalda que no quiere enderecerse. El cabello se me está volviendo blanco alrededor de la cara, y los ojos se declaran en huelga cuando paso demasiado tiempo mirando la pantalla.

Fotos:

El águila viejo del museo. Siento como si somos mejores amigos; los dos viejos, corroídos, con un hombro fuera de uso, pero todavía encontrándonos entre los bosques.

Pero las arañas no hacen sus telarañas en mi cuello. Todavía no.

Y seguiré con el blog.

P.D. Ahora, una hora y media después de que cesaron los fuegos, la gata por fin se ha dormido.

999,957

Almost a million!

Blogger tells me that's how many page views they've counted for this blog. Almost a million!

I know, it's just a number. And it may not even be all that accurate. And some silly YouTube videos reach that number of views in a few days, whereas I've been blogging here for over 9 years.

Still, it's sort of exciting. Like a milestone on the highway that you stop to take a photo of, with you sitting on it, or parking your mascot on top, or gazing off into the distance, pretending not to have set the camera on auto-timer.

And then you get back in the car and go on; it's just a marker, and you're going somewhere more interesting.

Which I'm doing now. Can't stop here. Back in the car, and off we go! There's more to be seen ahead!

Climbing Barnacle Mountain. There's a ways to go, yet.

A whole new topic to explore!

About that hairy grass . . .

Hairy grass, with chickweed

This is, again, why I love blogging! Gary Hurd commented on yesterday's post,

An interesting thing about "hairy" grass is that these are structured around phytoliths- opal-like silicates secreted by the grass. Different species have phytoliths with different shapes. We use them in archaeology for environmental reconstructions.

 I didn't know that, and I had to look it up, of course. And those phytoliths are fascinating! It's too late tonight to write, but tomorrow I'll tell you what I found.

A round Tuit, backyard birds, and a talking whale

I spent another rainy afternoon watching my backyard birds, and trying to get a photo of the nuthatch with not much luck. But I did get a junco; a noisy photo, what with the poor light, but better than none.

Junco and finch and sunflower seeds

Elegant robin back, with creeping Jenny and dying maple leaves.

Finch again, watching me over her shoulder

Steller's Jay. Checked out the garden, took a drink, and left again. They never stay long.

I've been thinking. Rainy days are good for that. I remember that I used to do a weekly links post. I think I stopped when I could just retweet them instead, but it's not quite the same; I don't bother explaining why I'm passing them along, just lazily click, "Retweet", and forget about it. So I'll start up again here.

And for a long time, I've been wanting to do a post about the bloggers I find helpful or inspirational, but never get around to it.

Here's one. No more excuses.

I think I'll do it in bits and pieces, maybe one with every link post.

And while I'm on the topic, have you seen the talking whale video?

Video and story on YouTube.

The study details the case of a white whale named NOC who began to mimic the human voice, presumably a result of vocal learning. ... "The whale's vocalizations often sounded as if two people were conversing in the distance," says Dr. Sam Ridgway, President of the National Marine Mammal Foundation. "These 'conversations' were heard several times before the whale was eventually identified as the source. In fact, we discovered it when a diver mistook the whale for a human voice giving him underwater directions." ... How this unique "mind" interacts with other animals and the ocean environment is a major challenge of our time.

And from the BBC:

"Our observations suggest that the whale had to modify its vocal mechanics in order to make the speech-like sounds," said Sam Ridgway, president of the National Marine Mammal Foundation and lead author on the paper.

Looking back, looking ahead

Six and a half years is a long haul in blogging years. That's how long I've been doing this. It's time to pause and take stock.

I've seen too many blogs announce their end this way, so I'll clarify, right at the beginning: I'm not quitting. Not taking a break or a breather. Just checking my roadmap, that's all.

History: the Past.

I started the blog elsewhere, on Delphi, on May 1, 2006, and moved to Blogger in December, 8 months later. I've written 2176 blog posts here, 69 on Delphi, making 2245 in all, just under one a day. (I'm sort of amazed at these numbers, little by little, how they do add up!)

When I started to blog, I was recently retired, weary from long battles in public life, and a lifetime of caring for family, from children to grandchildren to parents. It was good to just sit quietly and -- but no: impossible! I got a bike and started cycling with Laurie; we went on long hikes; we visited the dry BC interior; we devised the Shoreline Project, a plan to, in easy stages, walk around the shore of the whole Lower Mainland. We didn't make it, but we've covered most of Delta and Surrey, anyhow.

Blogging about it all was almost inevitable; so many delights just had to be shared.

I had no camera. Laurie was using an old, crochety film camera. We had to get the photos developed, select some to have transferred to a CD, then copy them again to my computer. It took weeks, sometimes. The first site, Delphi, didn't handle photos well. I switched to Blogger, bought myself a cheap point and shoot and began to teach myself how to use it. And hack it; I made my own lens for macro shots. Not good, but an improvement on nothing. (I'm still using it, rebuilt for the current camera. It needs an overhaul.)

The cameras opened a new world to me. What my eyes couldn't distinguish, the camera did, and I could blow up the photos and discover completely unsuspected lives and relationships. I knew very little about what I was seeing; we'd spend hours poring over guide books and my Invertebrates textbook. I mis-identified things on the blog, and was corrected by amazing, generous people around the world.

Thank you!

Gold dust!

I discovered BugGuide, and Google Search, Wikipedia, and G. Maps. I met (online) a busy community of people as enthusiastic about the creepy crawlies as I am; we joined in Carnivals like I and the Bird, Carnival of the Blue, Circus of the Spineless, and so on. What fun!

I brought home a broken intertidal worm and tried to keep it alive in sea water. It died, but by then I was half set up with a marine invertebrates aquarium. I blogged about that. And about our trips, and the housesitting, and the spiders and chickadees at home. Everything became blog fodder.

Somehow everything seems more meaningful when it is shared.

So no, I'm not quitting blogging until they pry my computer from my clammy hands. I'm having far too much fun to give it up.

And we come to The Present.

Why the need to stop and take stock at this point?

Our situation has changed. We aren't as mobile as we once were. We no longer hike up steep hills, or scramble over boulders. We're not as flexible; we don't often change our route on the spur of the moment. We tend to follow old, established patterns.

It's simple; we're getting older. I turned 70 this July. Laurie is in his 80s. He has always been much more active than I, but the last year has been hard on him, and now we seek out easy walking sites and short paths. We stay on manicured trails more, come home earlier.

We were in a car accident two years ago. (Hit and run driver, not my fault, no obvious severe damage.) Laurie's balance hasn't been right since then, and he has suffered several falls, mostly on the beach. He fell off a ladder in the garden a couple of weeks ago, onto his back, and now can barely get around. He will; he's improving slowly, but every setback leaves its mark afterwards.

It was age (retirement) that set me free to explore, now it's age that starts to cross choices off our lists.

I come from a long-lived family. Dad was still putting in a full day at the computer, every day, at 92. My grandmother, Mom's mom, was playing the piano at 99. I don't plan on closing up shop for a long time yet. But yes, I will be slowing down.

I get yellow line fever. Driving home, I feel the urge to just keep going, take the highway north, see where it leads me today. Or I pass a local road and think, “We've never been down that way; should I detour?” And sometimes we do just that. (See Woodhus Creek). But not as often as we used to.

So our circle has shrunk. No matter. Nature is infinite. There is as much to see at the end of our noses as on the horizon. We won't be bored.

The road runs north. Laurie, Thunder Bay viewpoint, Sunshine Coast.

While our space contracts, I'm also aware that time has, too. I have a few projects I want to do, and have been putting them off until later; I can't do that. Time's a-wasting. I've got a website to clean up and revise. My grandkids are asking for more of my stories. There's a book (fiction) that I got halfway through writing, hit a dry spell, and never picked up again. It natters at me in the back of my mind; it wants to be written. It's about time I blocked off the daily hours it will take and get it done.

Then there's this: it's not only we that are changing; so is the world around us. In the past couple of years, I have noticed a depopulation of our community of bugs and birds. Cross spiders no longer festoon all the hedges in July; this year I saw fewer than a dozen, not for want of looking. Moths are a rare treat. So are crane flies and cabbage whites. The bushtits showed up this week at my suet feeder; not enough of them to cover one side. I haven't seen a varied thrush in ages. Where have they gone? And why?

I think I know. All the “waste” spaces, the green lands, the remnants of old forests and farms in our area are turning into construction sites, noisy with machinery, silent when they shut down for the afternoon or weekend. No sleepy bird bedtime songs, no crow arguments; the trees have gone.

On our road to Boundary Bay beach, the new highway towers over the delta, great mountains of sand and gravel, access roads, bridges and cloverleafs, huge cement blocks lined up across prime farm land, well above it, as if preparing for the coming sea level rise. The farms may be swamped, but that causeway will go to the loading docks willy-nilly.

I have been trying not to rant. Focus on the positive, I tell myself. Celebrate the beauties we have before they're gone for good! Create an oasis where at least some can ride out the storms.

But it gets to me. And maybe I should be ranting, at least sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like giving up. Blogging, gardening, feeding birds, studying, crab watching -- what's the point? It will all be gone, and too soon. I shake off the feeling and go do something useful. But there remains a residual malaise, an ache I don't know where.

Rainy day, Mud Bay

Writing this out has changed how I see it. It may be that the difficulties in our life right now have made me more prone to discouragement.

And Ma Nature has tricks up her sleeve. I've been looking at Julie Zickefoose's photos of abandoned barns. Beautiful they were in their prime, bustling with activity, gleaming with red barn paint. More beautiful now, as the wood has aged and taken on depth, the grass and vines softening the contours, birds and other small creatures finding a hospitable corner there. Do what we will, the world will continue to be glorious.

Bull kelp, Miracle Beach

So: the Future.

We don't beachcomb under two meters of water. When the tide comes in, we come in with it. And when our energy wanes, well, we cope with that, too. Fretting's useless.

And I have things I want to do, things within my reach. That writing, for one. And if we're not spending as much time on the road, I think I can work it into my days. Better, I'll note here that I will do it, and I'll count on you to crack the whip occasionally.

I think it's time to upgrade my camera from a point and shoot to a camera body and a macro lens and an off-camera flash, at least. It's a big expense, and entails a steep learning curve. And just deciding which camera scares me; what if I choose the wrong one for me? But -- spider eyes! Bees' knees! Those tiny, so very beautiful white flies! Oh, joy and wonder!

About my intertidal beasties, the hermits and crabs, the anemones and worms; I will continue to feed and care for them, talk to them, and try to learn their habits and choices.

The world's critters, big and small, are our cousins, some distant, some close. I am more aware of this with every hour I spend watching them. They might not look anything like us (but they do; they have eyes and legs and mouths, or at least an intake and an outlet; and a way of sensing the world; their bodies are made up of the same materials as ours)  but they act with purpose, as we do, and they have similar needs and impulses.

We learn to communicate with cats and dogs , chimps and dolphins, horses and goats, and they respond in ways we can understand. Something in our mental workings is like theirs. Some call it consciousness. Or intelligence. As good a word as any for such a nebulous concept.

How far down* does this intelligence go? My hermit crabs exhibit curiosity; so, unmistakably, does a jumping spider. The shore crabs see me coming and wave, whether as a threat or just acknowledgement of my presence, I don't know. But it is communication.

I can't determine this. I can't even comprehend it. But I want to continue to explore the question, especially with the animals I have close by. So I'll be spending more hours staring into the aquarium and watching the bird bath and feeder. And, of course, blogging about it.

And,I think I will give myself permission to rant, occasionally.

Some things never change. I still have a spider in a glass house on my desk. (Laurie's latest gift; even leaning on his cane, in pain, he chased it around the bathroom with his pill bottle. And he doesn't really like spiders. I do love that guy!) I still drop everything to clamber on a table to see a moth above the door. I still talk to the chickadees; I'm sure they understand the friendliness, if not the words. And I still want to share what brings me joy. I'll keep on blogging.

Big Blue, 2010. Pagurus granosimanus.

*Down: only in terms of size. Not value, or complexity; we don't know enough to measure those. If they even can be.

Too much!

Life is too full of good things. I can't keep up. I've got three blog posts on the go, including a video, beasties to send in to BugGuide before I post them, baby birds outside clamouring for attention. I've been rushing to finish a project for Laurie's blog, indexing and updating; almost done. And the garden is finally taking off, now that sometimes the sun actually reaches it; I should be out there deadheading, fertilizing, weeding. Or even sitting down for a spell, just breathing and looking.

Because next week will be even worse. Parties, shopping, and a wedding have to be fitted in. Something has to give, so blogging may be light for a bit.

Snail orgies tomorrow, I think. And for now, here's a gull:

Watching the tide come in. White Rock beach.

Off to bed. Goodnight, y'all!

I was wrong, and I'm happy!

Another episode in the "Why I Love Blogging" series.

People are so helpful! See the comments on yesterday's post. Thanks to Kate and her daughter, Brine Queen, I've been corrected and steered in the right direction; the critters weren't tunicates at all, but egg cases. .

I'm still searching through hundreds of pages, looking for a good ID, and my eyes are giving out. Details tomorrow, and, I hope, a name for the parent snail.

Stripy nymph

Isn't he a cutie?

Found inside a cattail head.

I've sent this one and an adult in to BugGuide and will post their verdict later.
*Update: it's Chilacis typhae, the bulrush bug.

My "To blog" folder is full, and I'm getting 'way behind. I think I must do a everything-but-the-kitchen-sink post in the next day or two. Bugs and birds and shape-shifting spiders, skies, mountains, you-name-it, crammed in higgledy-piggledy. You have been warned!

Trying something new: off-topic

I have started a second blog.

Over the years, I have written small pieces; stories and poems, some fictional, some not, covering territory from northern BC to Nicaragua. Most of them are on an old website that I've been meaning to finish upgrading; a fair number have been published in other places.

I've decided to start loading them onto a blog, rather than slogging through the html of the website.

Here's the blog, with the first non-fiction story, "Remembering Jellybean", already loaded. I'll be adding several more each week.

Back to our regular programming ...

Appetizer

I'm still sorting photos from the weekend. I've narrowed the ones from the first garden we visited (The Secret Garden of Boundary Bay) down to 33 worth posting. These are three of them. (Now it's down to 30.)






Tomorrow, I'll do the final sort on those, and post my favourites.

After that, in no particular order, I'll blog a passel of worms from Boundary Bay, miniature clams, some strange bird behaviour, an antique church turned wedding chapel and its garden, a bit of up-valley scenery (Chilliwack area), and a window into the life of carpet beetles. That's enough to keep me out of mischief for a while.

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I'm alive, again!

My ISP has been down since Monday night, and just came back on-line a few minutes ago.

Seems like forever. But I got some postponed chores done, during that eternity.

I'll be back on schedule tonight.

Finally! A round Tuit!

Is there an award for procrastinators? * I've earned it.

I still haven't passed on the awards I received two weeks ago. They're sitting here on my desk, all 15 pretty badges, on top of my "Urgent" pile, while I dither and dawdle. Sorry about that.

A while ago, when Blogger re-structured my page without warning me, I removed most of my widgets, trying to identify the problem. I put some back, but left the blogrolls for later, because I wanted to change the format, and add new favourites. (More height on that "Urgent" pile.) I sorted that out today, and restored the Nature blog list to its place.

This may help with the awards list.

Ok; here goes. The Superior Scribbler's Award that Huckleberry favoured me with, I pass on to -- Oh, choosing is so difficult! --

1. Jessica, at Moss Plants and More; I've been enjoying her recent series on the life cycle of mosses.
2. Aydin, at Snail's Tales; recent post - When Fruit Flies Go Bad they become winos...
3. Hugh, at Rock Paper Lizard and The Interpreter. (I thought someone had tagged him already, but I just checked the blog and didn't see it.)
4. Robin Andrea and Roger, at The New Dharma Bums. They haven't been posting too much lately, but those few posts are always insightful, worth waiting for.
5. Bev, at Journey to the Center. A recent post reads, in part,

   The path I once followed ends at a cliff’s edge. My world is now filled with metaphors of birth, life, love, loss, and death. A derelict house becomes a reminder of how fleeting are our lives and our creations. Smashed out windows, gaping doors, or a fallen roof are signs of irreparable destruction and termination. Of course, most photographers are aware of the existence and use of metaphor in objects and landscapes. It is our stock in trade. But there is a difference between making use of, and living within, a world filled with metaphors.

And here are the rules, again:

1. Pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
2. Link to the author & the name of the blog from whom you have received The Award.
   
3. Display The Award on your blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
   
4. Visit This Post and add your name to the Mr. Linky List.
   
5. Post these rules on your blog.
   

Next, the Butterfly Award, sent by Dawn.

The rules, along with Dawn's wonderful escape clause, again:

These are the rules I am following and the rules that I pass on to you all.
Though I know a few of you personally and know that you probably wont pass it on..that is ok...It is like a chain letter, you wont die, blah blah blah if you don't do it..

1. Put the logo on your blog, you can right-click and copy it from above.
   
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you.
   
3. Nominate other blogs for this award (about 10).
   
4. Add links to those blogs.
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.
6. Give a reason why you consider their blogs cool.

I'm going to be lazy; I've already revisited every blog on my blogroll twice today. So, if your blog is on that list, and I haven't already tagged you with the Scribbler award, consider yourself the recipient of The Butterfly. Every single one there deserves it, in my books. You're "the coolest blog(s) I ever kn(e)w."

*It seems like there is, except that the badge hasn't been finished yet.
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This is why I love blogging!

One of the reasons that I love blogging, at least.

Yesterday, I wrote about my stumbling efforts to identify a spider, and about the help I'd gotten along the way. Within hours, more help arrived, with enough info on spider anatomy to warrant another post.

Rod Crawford had identified my spider as Steatoda bipunctata. I asked about defining marks; how had he identified her, and did the name refer to the dimples on the upper abdomen? Lynette Schimming forwarded my question to him; he wrote,

There aren't any (defining marks). I identified it from the epigynum. But yes, it's probably named after the "dimples" (which actually most spiders have - they're the apodemes or attachment points for the heart muscles).

Time for some definitions:

Epigynum (or epigyne): the female genital opening in spiders. (Wikipedia) Often used to distinguish species (as in this case). Christopher Taylor says (in the comments),

If you look at the front end of the underside of the abdomen, in front of the markings, you can see a dark sclerotised structure.

The epigyne is the black thing up near her waist.

PZ has a nice diagram and an explanation of spider sex, here: Spider Kama Sutra.

Sclerotised: hardened or toughened tissue. (Csiro)

Christopher adds,

it doesn't get sclerotised like that until they reach maturity (though a non-sclerotised epigyne may be visible in the second-to-last instar).

Question for Christopher: how do you know it's hardened from a photo? Does the colour change?

Instar: a developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each moult (ecdysis), until sexual maturity is reached. Arthropods must shed the exoskeleton in order to grow or assume a new form. Differences between instars can often be seen in altered body proportions or changes in the number of body segments. (Wikipedia)

Apodeme: Ridge-like ingrowth of the exoskeleton of an arthropod that supports internal organs and provides attachment points for muscles. (WordWeb) In this case, it's the heart muscles.

I found it hard to imagine this, but Visual Dictionary Online has a good diagram:

From Visual Dictionary Online.

You can see the points where the heart* (red) attaches to the exoskeleton.

And here are the dimples, on another, very tiny S. bipunctata, I found this summer. (Maybe it's Brownie, as a baby.)


And thanks, all, for your help!

*Next Valentine's Day, I'm going to make my hearts this shape; long and skinny, with spikes.
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Half a post is better than none.

I like memes. I know some bloggers grumble about them; some even refuse to pass them on. But I think that the exercises add a more personal aspect to the blogging world, in that they round out our on-line personas with those little details that we so take for granted in our "real-world" acquaintances.

And often, it turns out that we have more in common than we thought. I love those moments when someone says, "I do that, too!" or, "I was there!" Hey, if we didn't live half-way around the world from each other, we'd be meeting for coffee at Tim Horton's, showing off the latest vacation pics, and grumbling about the traffic and the rain. The business of the day usually comes later; on the blogs, it comes first. Memes help to remedy that situation.

I especially like memes that come with awards. Someone likes what I do! Wow! That puts a smile on my face for the week.

Last week, I received two smile-makers. First, Huckleberry, at Huckleberry Days, gave me the Superior Scribbler Award.

Thanks, Huckleberry! What a nice thing to say!

And then, Dawn sent the Butterfly Award.

Thanks, Dawn. (And yes, the wording sounds strange to me, too.)

Now, here's the problem with memes; they come with rules. They have to be passed on. And that's not easy.

For the Scribbler award, I must:

1. Pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
2. Link to the author & the name of the blog from whom I have received The Award. - Done
   
3. Display The Award on my blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award. - Done
   
4. Visit This Post and add my name to the Mr. Linky List. - Done
   
5. Post these rules on my blog. -Done
   

So I only have #1 left to do.

And for the Butterfly Award; I am pasting the rules, along with Dawn's wonderful escape clause:

These are the rules I am following and the rules that I pass on to you all.
Though I know a few of you personally and know that you probably wont pass it on..that is ok...It is like a chain letter, you wont die, blah blah blah if you don't do it..

1. Put the logo on your blog, you can right-click and copy it from above. - Done
   
2. Add a link to the person who awarded you. - Done
   
3. Nominate other blogs for this award (about 10). (About 10! Eep!)
   
4. Add links to those blogs.
5. Leave a message for your nominees on their blogs.
6. Give a reason why you consider their blogs cool.

That makes 15 new award-winning blogs; 5 Scribblers and 10 "Cool" bloggers. Links, explanation, and message to the bloggers.

The difficulty is not in finding the blogs; it is in pruning the list down to 15 bloggers, none of whom I have passed on any memes to recently.

I think I need more time. Like a couple of days, or three.


Day's end. I'm off to bed. 'night, all!
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Problems with Blogger

Blogger seems to have gone haywire. At least on this blog.

Are you getting a long grey line stretching vertically through all the posts? I am. And only on my blog, as far as I can tell.

If you don't see it, tell me, please. (Or if you do, and it's doing anything else weird.)

I'll be back as soon as I've sorted this out.

Why, why, oh why?

The third anniversary of I and the Bird is coming up fast. And Mike asks us for a post answering the question,

"Why are you still bird blogging?"

He clarifies:

Why do you, in spite of all the other birding-related activities you engage in professionally and/or recreationally, put so much work into your blog?

What carried you through the tough times, the writer’s block, the scarcity of readers, to the point you’ve now reached?

Why, when so many millions have tried yet failed to maintain even a sporadic blog, are you so actively engaged?

And he gives us a deadline: tomorrow. So, here goes:

Why are you still bird blogging?

Because I'm still looking at and for birds, still exclaiming when I see a family of house finches at my bird bath for their evening ablutions (five of them after supper tonight), still talking back to my chickadees; "Dee dee dee, to you, too!" I'm still craning my neck to see eagles far overhead and counting hawks on fenceposts on every drive down the highway to Tsawwassen. I still try to photograph crows.

And shared joy is double the joy. Hence, I blog.

Why do you, in spite of all the other birding-related activities you engage in professionally and/or recreationally, put so much work into your blog?

At first, 'way back, I began a blog as a way to impose some sort of discipline on my day, but soon I discovered something: blogging, whether bird blogging, invertebrate ditto, beach, art, or whatever blogging (all of which I indulge in) is all about community. I write about what delights me, and I find myself in the company of others around the world who love the same things I do.

I found, today, on Huckleberry Days, a series of beautiful spider photos. (I know, not birds. But the principle applies.) I went back several times to look at them and marvel.

A couple of days ago, Hugh, at Rock, Paper, Lizard, wrote about looking for salamanders. (I know.)

"Why go herping? To see what’s there, of course."

I relished that saying all day.

Julie Zickefoose, today, posted photos of the courtship display of a Northern Harrier. (Ok, birds, this time.) I envy her and rejoice with her, both.

So I blog for me, but also for them, and the rest of you. Who knows, but that one of my posts will bring the same pleasure to someone else?

What carried you through the tough times, the writer’s block, the scarcity of readers, to the point you’ve now reached?

I never expected more than a few readers. I am always amazed to see the numbers in SiteMeter. But for me, that wasn't the point. Writer's block? Sometimes it rears its fearsome head. So I post a favourite photo. And sometimes that gets me started. Sometimes it doesn't. There's always tomorrow.

Why, when so many millions have tried yet failed to maintain even a sporadic blog, are you so actively engaged?

Because I'm having fun. Isn't that enough reason?

And because I can't do a post without a decent photo, let me see ... (browsing my files ... ) ah! Here are a few seagulls on the White Rock beach a couple of weeks ago.




I don't remember seeing gulls with the whitish legs around here before. In this particular flock, about half the birds had pink legs, the rest were white. Beaks were black, white, yellow, some with black tips, one with a white tip.

Pink legs, black beak.

I'll never get my seagulls sorted out.
.

I don't understand this ...

... I ran my blog URL through a site that tests its readability. This was the result:

(Check your own blog or site, here.* (Link removed, may have spam content.))

I expected a much lower level; I write as I speak, and my school-age grandkids understand me. (As much as kids understand any adult, that is.)

1. Is something wonky about this test? (Now, that's a good post-grad word, isn't it?)
2. Most writing for the general public is supposed to be around upper elementary - Junior High level. I checked one of the longer stories on my website (Dressing for Don Pedro) and it was rated at Junior High, as expected. A story I wrote for the kids (Chaucer and the Peanut Butter Sandwich) earned the "Elementary School" badge. As it was intended to. What gives with the blog, then?
3. I tested a couple of blogs similar to mine. One got Junior High. But Dharma Bums was rated "Genius". Why? (Not to say that it isn't a great, intelligent blog; it is.)
   
4. Test your own blog. And/or test a couple of your favourites. Let me know what you find.

Strange things happen when you try to test something by a standardized measure. At least, when the blog was deemed "PG", the site told me why: usage of "bad" words. (Like "dead".) This new site doesn't give reasons; it leaves me guessing.

Any ideas?

Not Suitable For Children

I hope you are over 13, if you are reading this. Otherwise, you'd better get permission.

Because:

Because, they tell me, I used the word, "dead", 3 whole times! (As in dead spider, dead weeds, etc.) Oops, there goes my count up to 6; cover your ears.

And I used the word "ass" once. (In a title, yet; "Jawbone of an Ass") Make that thrice, now. Ooooh! What a bad, bad blogger I am!

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Click on the graphic to test your own blog or website.

Suggestion

From Mike the Mad Biologist:

To help combat pseudoscience,

"Once per week, link to five 'science' posts that you found interesting."

Sounds like a good idea. And do-able.

And now, metablogging...

... or, blogging about blogging.

My question was, "How has blogging changed your life?" And I promised to answer today.

Well, I am, and that is one way that blogging has changed things for me. I came home this afternoon, tired out, to find a rush job waiting for me. Deadline, tomorrow noon. And I will get it done. But first, I have a promise to keep, so here I am.

Writing on my own, no matter what the final goal, I am far too prone to procrastination. (I still am, but I waste only hours, not days and weeks.) But I am aware that dilatoriness is death to a blog; it goes against its whole purpose. After all, it is a "log", which usually denotes a marker of time and space travelled or work done, updated regularly.

So I blog almost every day.

I have been for some time in a state of "writers' block", with a story that I really want to finish, really must finish, frozen half-way through. I seems now that the act of sitting down every day and writing, even if it be captions for a few photos, is reviving my confidence; I'm beginning to feel that I can soon thaw it out and go on.

All to the good. And better still, I am meeting online all these wonderful people, people who share our interests and our values. Laurie and I have been living in a kind of wasteland, a counter-culture composed of two quiet seniors who would rather go birding than rent a video, bring home a new mushroom (to us) than a new outfit, who rip up pieces of lawn to plant "weeds" and feed birds even if it does attract squirrels. And who are seriously concerned about climate change and the insanity of our "leaders". (Can they be really said to lead if, in reality, they are dragging us, protesting, to where we don't want to go?)

And here, online, reachable, almost touchable, are those who "know Joseph"*. We are not alone, after all! There is hope, there is strength! Maybe ... just maybe ... there is still a future for our kids and grandkids.

That is a major change for me. A good one.

One other, minor thing: I have noticed that my writing style has changed in the past year. I write more the way I speak now; more fluidly, less grammatically, less formally. I don't plan ahead. I just write. I think I like that.

So, thank you, all you out there, those whose blogs I read, and those who also read mine and sometimes comment. Thank you: you have given us hope.

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*"know Joseph" From the "Anne" books. A kindred spirit.

And now, back to the grindstone. :)