Another Mystery Sighting

It was a day for odd things, or at least out of the usual. The all happened within a short period of time on a day that was itself rare, but very welcomed. Steve got to go fishing again, down on his favorite river bank on the St. Croix, the sandbar that forms in low water levels around the boat ramp called Franconia Landing. I can drive down, turn and park, unload Steve, his fishing gear, his chair and the platform that goes under it preventing his chair from tipping in the loose sand. It had been over a year since he'd gone fishing, and he was finally feeling well enough to go. 

I had promised to take him, but one of his sons with his wife met him there. They usually pick him up from our place but today was a doctor visit with a doc who always takes a long time with each patient, something I appreciate, but which leaves Steve waiting in the lobby long enough that he can get irritated, especially when fishing awaits. I dropped him off afterwards, and left after taking my mandatory pictures. Like a red wild flower perfectly framed in front of a weirdly shaped hollow in a still living tree on the bank.

Sure, it's tilted, but still stood long after all kinds of rain and ice storms that took out more healthy looking trees in all kinds of nearby locations over the last few years.

Fish were biting well, enough that a second trip had to be taken for live bait later. While I was there however, the fish were already biting. Steve's son was getting ready to toss this one back in.

It's all catch-and-release. Much as the family loves fishing, nobody cares for cleaning. And while I was there, nothing worth eating was caught anyway. Later I heard tales of bigger fish, because of course, and this shot is included  even though the topic is about odd things. These are not odd. Nor are the smallmouth bass and red horse suckers which started biting later. But hey, bragging rights, right? Some days any fish is worth noting.

For the neighborhood, these are not unknown, but I scratch my head at anybody who lets their chickens run wild where cars, dogs, or foxes could eliminate their flock. They did have interesting colors however.

Uphill on the same road coming downhill from the highway, a farmer occasionally has horses out in their field. Previously, if we saw any, there were only two, a white and a brown. Recently we saw either one horse or none at all. Today there were four, close to the road and making a good horse shot impossible. None of these are unidentifiable, or even much worthy of a photo if the day hadn't been so ho-hum so far. I had no idea what was to come.

Meanwhile I headed home to wait for the phone call informing us that Steve's new prescription was ready. I promised to drop back on my way to pick it up, along with some groceries,  and leave the second house key with Steve. While his fishing supplies were in the car before we left for the doc's, the thought he might need to get back in before I did was nowhere in our thoughts.  Eventually the call came, I ran all my errands, and headed home. So of course, because that's how it happens, I was on a busy highway, no opportunity to pull out the camera, when my mystery critters ran across the road.

I slowed a bit when the first ran out from the shoulder. I slowed more when the next one followed, then the next, and I realized I had no idea exactly what they were. I just kept watching, noting details. And while doing that, I did what one does, I suppose: I counted them.

My view had the late afternoon sun on the opposite side, so all I saw was black shapes. My first impression, with their backs arched up in a perfect curve, was they were toys. I've seen toy wooden cars with that shape. I presumed that was wrong, that these were living. I saw no fur spikes, but again, assumed they most likely had some. They weren't fish, nor birds, nor any appearance of any reptile I've ever seen. Think of taking a circle and cutting it in half, with a straight flat cut across for the belly, then adding tiny feet front and back. No bend indicated any knees. There was nothing except direction of travel to indicate head, the curve was so perfect. I made the assumption that they were presumably mammals, were going in the direction their (also presumed) heads were pointed at. Tiny sets of feet, one set on each end perfectly continuing the curve down to the road on both sides, were taking rapid fire steps without spoiling those lines, occasionally enough distance between the feet as to show light between, indicating their speed. They also served to elevate the totally straight horizontal body about two inches above the pavement. The body lines didn't change a bit the whole time, same back arch to the pavement, same flat stomach.They didn't bounce with those rapid steps, just seemed to glide across, maintaining the illusion of toys the entire time.

Right behind the first, possibly two feet back or a bit more, was number two. Everything identical: shape, size, speed. Next came number three, again everything identical, but add noting that the distance between two and three matched that of one and two. Same between three and four, then between four and five, and finally between five and six.  I recalled my initial idea of toys: these could easily have been pull toys with identical - but invisible - strings. By the time number six was running on the highway inside the right shoulder paint strip, number one was just hitting the left shoulder paint strip, then down into the ditch and hiding. Each followed in military precision.The parade took perhaps half a minute, possible a few seconds more. No other cars, in either direction, were close.

One other thing bothered me. Shouldn't they have had tails? I was busy looking at every detail I could note while they crossed, and could not see one tail. Not a stub, not a paddle, nothing pointing away from that smooth curve except tiny running feet. Not up. Not back. Not tucked under. I mused about "what-the-hell?" on the way home, then got busy hauling groceries. That image returned several times, but other things were happening, until it was bedtime.

The image of the parade of six returned in the morning, a clear silhouette. When time allowed, I started hunting online, working out key words to describe what they looked like and how they weren't like other animals.

Eventually I put in North American mammal, back arched when running. I figured wrong answers would point me to better narrowing it down. I was right. It gave me a mouse. I gave it back foot long. It was a start anyway. I couldn't define it more perfectly since I never got that close and only had highway to estimate measurements  by.

This time it came up with muskrat. Hmmm, OK, I know we have those in the area, but usually in the local lakes, a couple miles further west of my location. I had more questions, of course. Do they stray that far from water? Do they move in groups like that? Can they hide their tails that well? I'm going to defer to family members who might have those answers AND read this.

And thanks in advance!

Drought

I love visiting Crex Meadows. If you follow me, by now you know that and have seen enough photos to understand it as a place filled with lakes.  Anyway, it was. Steve and I went there this afternoon. The plan was for him to do much of the driving through the area, so I had hands free to shoot, especially since most of the photo ops seem to happen on the passenger side of the car.

The drought didn't stop me from shooting. But I'll help you "see" what isn't there that used to be and needs to be again.

Our first stop was an area south of Grantsburg that used to be a huge lake with a few scattered shallow places where cattails grew. Hundreds of trumpeter swans, plus assorted other birds would nest there, and the population would temporarily more than double. The lake went from huge body of water to huge pasture... sort of, if lots of muddy berms define a pasture. This photo proves it wasn't completely dry, and in fact had a small handful of geese in addition to this family of swans with two grey cygnets, the most we found in a swan family anywhere. Previous years a family with five young was not rare. Many places still held an adult or two, few had any young.

My apologies for a terrible photo. We hadn't planned a stop in this spot, across the gravel road from the south end of Phantom Lake. I trust you recognize the doe as the subject, and perhaps have had the experience of tall roadside grasses being blown back and forth in front of your lens. BLUR! What you may not recognize is the background behind her of dying water lilies. Some are still green, most not. But it is still edible food and bits of water still go through through it. I don't know if she can still produce milk. The fawn we saw behind her mostly had its head buried in lilypads chomping way. It should soon learn the need to raise its head enough to scout for danger, like Mom was doing. An arm adjustment from inside the car , an attempt to get a shot of more than part of a fawn's rump, was enough to startle mom back into the woods away from the road. The fawn followed promptly, and only as the pair disappeared into the woods and cameras were set down was the fawn's twin finally bolting from where it had been hiding, presumably eating, to follow the others. So far, two still surviving, an amazing sighting. The picture just rubs in the miss of not getting a good picture. It's here to show the quality level of remaining food supply.

The  cormorants on the floating platform tell another story one has to be informed to understand. I had stopped in at the visitor center to discuss wildlife. The same fellow I'd talked with the week before was again at the counter.  I passed on what I'd learned from the earlier visit  so far, and mentioned the platform. This week his comment changed from not being aware of it, to imparting knowledge about one way of managing the grounds (and lakes) was much akin to sinking a ship in the ocean so it can become habitat for what lives there, like the start of a coral reef. Low water levels revealed its presence to passers by. (Hmmm, somebody had done some research since my last visit.) He was going to check in with some staffers who were to arrive next week and ask them if this raft was such a contrivance. I'm sure we'll chat again after he finds out and then we'll both know. This time the cormorant count - not shown well in this photo - had climbed from  6 to 7. Life is getting crowded here in select places as water levels drop. At least some of this lake remains. For now anyway.

This mated pair of trumpeter swans did not raise young this year. The water around them offers one patch of black mud to stand on, as long as they get along. It's next to the old abandoned beaver lodge where they usually nest, then one minds the eggs and young while the other swims around the greater area marking territory and defending it from intruders.  I've followed them for several years now as the beavers built their home next to the road. By now swan feathers should all be snowy white, with a possible exception for their necks, but most years their bodies shine brilliant white and a little yellow is all that's tinting their necks. These guys can't get a proper bath, usually a benefit to them  from taking a completely vertical dive in place to pull weeds up off the bottom. Their food is usually under the surface. Now there's nowhere to get clean while feeding. 

 

 

There was a short spot of more water - or should I call it "hope"? A pair of trumpeters were watching over their  cygnets while they slept. These were still as dirty as the others around this lake, but there was actual water here. Several other birds joined them, ones I've not seen  around before, much less in the company of swans without bothering the parents. Somebody was willing to share, leaving me with a small bit of optimism for some of them getting through migration to a friendlier location. I guess questions  will be answered next year, both from seeing how much water is back where it's needed, and how many were strong enough to complete migration.

 

 

Another lake usually making a great nesting and feeding place of both great egrets and great blue herons is having its problems as well. When a car drives around the corner, the occupants see a large cloud of the combined birds startling up and outta-there! But where to this year? A trickle runs through what used to be a nice sized lake. The birds perch on dead logs and stumps either left or placed for that purpose while in repose. Last week all startled as a unit, the first one alerting all the others, both herons and egrets.
Today the herons seemed to have little energy to do more than move back from the road, land, and stop and watch to see if they absolutely had to move again... or not. No egrets were even here this day, where a week before a couple dozen scattered spectacularly, adding their white to the blues amid the herons and all retreated to the other end of bare lake bed, paralleling the road.

Today as we approached the far end of that lake, this was all that greeted us: mud cracked and a lone dying water lily baking in the sun. I hope the  missing egrets -or swans or everything else usually present have found themselves a haven. The adults have that choice.

I hate to think what will be greeting the usual gathering of up to 17,000 greater sandhill cranes in a couple months if rain doesn't pick up. This is a sanctuary, their staging ground before they migrate down to the southeast US. These 30,000 acres are maintained for that level of wildlife. When they start arriving most of the regional farmers have harvested their crops, and the cranes fly in and clean up loose seeds from the ground, all the insects they can find, even mice and small reptiles  for miles around, before returning to their sanctuary to spend the night, safe from hunters for the night. My guess is this is a bonus year for the local foxes. Those fields are suffering as well. Several are huge fields of sunflowers, heads tracking the sun just two weeks ago. Now they just hang down, leaves yellowed and crinkling. Corn's not looking so great either. If you watch weather radar for the area, rain comes across from the very north of Minnesota and the very south. Promising storms split and go around this area. We'll just have to wait and see what this fall brings... or doesn't. What will our strong El Nino bring this winter?

Fighting With Google

Apparently I ask the impossible. AI almost  helps, last resort, but it's a delusion.

Back up a bit. Yesterday's post had an odd little plant in it, very ordinary looking for a roadside weed, except it was totally white, so white that in the right angle of light seemed to flash silver. I sent a copy of the photo to Crex, letting them know where it is to be found, in case they were interested in seeing it for themselves, asking for identification, as well as letting them know it looked about to bloom, just in case it was invasive and should be pulled.

I actually hope not, or not yet, because I'd love to go back there and shoot the flowers. I want to see them! They have to be very tiny, so there'll be some camera work, but I. Just. Want. To. See. What. They. Look. Like!

I haven't heard back from them yet, but they have their own priorities. I also sent a query off to my sister-in-law, with a degree and profession in those kinds of things, and my usual go-to when I wish to be absolutely correct in an identification. I'm waiting to see what she can come up with as well.

Because Google is a total failure! I type in descriptive terms, the most telling of which ought to be that it is all white. Google seems to "think" I'm shopping, sending me all kinds of pictures of plants I know very well, both from my own plant-keeping as well as having worked in a garden center. The results have white flowers. Yes, I actually do recognize strawberry blossoms! Did you notice the green on the rest of the plant, Google? Or Google picks plants with white spots on their leaves, apparently common in some stores these days as varieties. I know those better as "variegated".  I've grown lots of those, like the '70's favorite fad plant, the spider plant.  Maybe Google can't identify "all" or "completely" when paired with "plant"? But look, if it weren't rare, I wouldn't be online asking what it was, right? I do understand the misdirection of shopping, sources and prices listed with photos, since I have done a fair bit of that online lately, working on variety for my several gardens. GOOGLE DOES REMEMBER YOU, FOLKS!

I finally took off the restriction against letting AI into the hunt. It actually found a couple of WRONG answers for me, though kudos for working on the "all white" part. One is a succulent, and yes, I'm growing one of those and it's not actually white, but more covered with white fuzzy skin. Green underneath though, very plainly.  The other wrong answer was "ghost plant", which actually is white but also more fungus in character than having normal plant structure. It can't do photosynthesis so it gets nutrition from the dirt. Much as I'd get some fun out of shooting one of those, it's not the plant in the photo, repeated here for those who missed yesterday's post and don't want to bother going back for it:

As you can see, typical weedy plant structure, not "shroomy" in nature, and no green anywhere else. I don't do camera editing tricks, as regular followers know, aside from cropping and color changes which affect the entire photo, like adding a bit of red when I had one camera that malfunctioned on it in every single shot. For example the red rocks of the desert southwest were all turned a greyish tan. A quick fix, that I can do. But it's for the entire picture, like brightening or darkening exposure. Can you imaging the hours it would take -if I even knew how - to outline every bit of these plants to perfectly make them white and nothing else?

I can manage to severely crop to show details better. Like the fact that there is no green in this plant, but plenty in the grasses behind it. What is interesting is what now shows up at nearly every leaf 's join to the stem. Seeds? Unopened flowers? I may just have to go back in a couple days to see what changes. So what if it's over 40 miles each way in these gas prices? (Gulp)

Maybe if I could just send a picture to Google and get it to identify what it is. I believe that it takes an actual, well-educated on the topic, human... with a more thorough vocabulary for search terms than I have to tease out the answers.  

Good thing I know one of those. 

And she reads this.

Just Another Roadside Distraction

My eyes are all over the place when I'm driving. Lest you think that's reckless, they are scouting constantly in all directions for any and all hazards in the process. Sometimes there are bonuses of entertainment, or education, or beauty along my way. Do you wonder that I stuck around to put over two million work miles on various cars during that part of my life? And still love driving?

Lately local authorities have been putting up electric signs along the hiway to let drivers know we all  know how fast everybody is driving. No tickets, or none that I've seen being given. But these don't just give a number. They comment as well. When I pass two miles under the limit, they'll flash "GOOD JOB" like we're all kindergartners, or driving is T-ball. I was getting a little complacent and realized I was approaching one of the signs a single mile per hour fast. The sign gave a gentle scold:  "HEY NOW."

Today I was well past being in the house or working on the yard for long enough. Temperatures were finally reasonable, at least for one day. Gotta get out! Steve and I had planned for a break where I drove to and from Crex, but he'd drive inside Crex so I could shoot out the passenger window, which is the side of the car most of the water is on, meaning most of the large birds are outside that  window, and I could steady the camera on the window ledge, or even over the side mirror if the subject were out front instead of trying to shoot through a never pristine tinted windshield. When I have a passenger they always get that side of the car. If I'm lucky, whatever the attraction is they're fascinated with and getting their own shots of is still around and visible when they finally sit back and clear the window for my turn. Mostly, not so much. As it turned out, he was dealing with enough pain that not only did he want to stay home, he needed pain meds that made driving illegal. So with his blessing I left him home to recuperate and I headed up alone.

My goal for the day - for a lot of days actually - was to spot an eagle. A NICE, ADULT, CAMERA - READY ADULT EAGLE. OK, I confess, eaglets would be way cool too. I do dream. Their usual old locations simply don't exist any more. I'd heard the Crex crew had put up a platform for them to nest on ... somewhere out  where I usually don't go, and they only kind of hint at the location if you ask.  I wouldn't have  minded a nest with young, but it's late in the season, and that high in such strong light they'd only be shapes.

Like whatever this raptor in a tall tree was. I could identify the curved beak for category of bird,  and by size was either a young eagle from the last year or so,  or very large hawk. Against the sky.... everything else by contrast black... who could tell what it was? At best, with the sun coming down on the branch tops, was  it just giving definition to the branches' shapes? Neither helped in giving an ID.

But with a bit of hope, I hit the visitor center first. Among other things, I needed new maps as the old ones disappear, and better clarification of better places to hunt. The fellow behind the counter introduced himself and answered a question of mine. I'd hoped to find out who won the most technically impressive of all the photos submitted for their annual contest, and hoped there might be a badge or ribbon on the winner. One person judges that kind of quality, but they wouldn't be in until next week. I offered my opinion on two photos where there was exquisite detail in the individual feathers and the water surface of each. After a bit more discussion, he asked my name, recognized it, shook my hand and congratulated me on my 3rd place win, indicating subtly that there were differences of opinion among the staff as to who should have won in certain categories. He obviously had a good opinion of some of my work, even my quirky sense of humor in some titles,  congratulating me again as I left to do more shooting. Meanwhile I had more information on the general area where the eagle platform had been built.

I headed that way on the county road as I left. As I cleared the woody surroundings of the visitor center for cleared fields and homes, I noticed crows circling up in the air ahead, occasionally making a half dive before rising again. Something was going on.

I actually passed it before that unmistakable white head caught my attention. Checking no traffic was moving either ahead or behind, I pulled over almost onto the very narrow shoulder, carefully as the ditch could have rolled my compact, and made sure slowly backing up was safe. I winced as a truck approached and passed me, indifferent to my errand, but its passing had no impact on my goal, the bald eagle in the ditch on the other side of the road.

It kept its eye on me, but never indicated a desire to leave its location. It didn't look injured, so I checked out the ditch between us.

Whatever it had been, it now was dinner for whoever could claim rights the most fiercely. Those crows hadn't a chance as long as the eagle was there. I tried to identify more than skinned meat and ribs. I was unsuccessful. That carcass had been feeding a multitude already. From a glimpse of iridescent feathers on the far side, with none of the rest of the carcass resembling anything that could fly, I concluded something feeding on it had itself become another creature's dinner. Well, there are also foxes and wolves in the area, possible future goals for my camera. But here was my eagle!

After continuing to keep an eye on traffic while taking several photos, aware of my own precarious location should two vehicles cross in that spot, I reluctantly put the camera down, gave myself a mental high five, and eased back on the road.

I GOT MY EAGLE PHOTO!!!!  I FINALLY GOT MY EAGLE PHOTO!!!!

Did I turn around and head home, mission accomplished?  Are you kidding? Next year that nesting platform goes on my list. I think this requires winter visits, with the leaf canopy missing and long views revealed. Hope for little ice, eh?

Meanwhile there is always more to shoot here. I'm in the habit of starting with Phantom Lake. I hoped for fauna, but lake levels through out the acreage were very low from severe drought, so I settled for an unusual - to me - bit of flora.

I have no clue yet what is is, but it does qualify as a flower, and I barely had to pull over to get a couple shots. The photo shows white, the reality showed silver to the eye.

A little further down the lake there was a stop for a rare - so far this day -  blue heron.

It was smart enough to stick to the far side of the pond across the road, so my zoom managed this much of a shot. There were a couple others in widely scattered locations, but none willing to pose. It must have been dinner time all around the area. Then again, water levels so low, it probably took all day to find fish.

There was some floating detritus well out from shore, itself collecting more random trash, plus some odd birds. I'm not used to the long highly-bendable necks on local water birds, so I'm going to start a search to identify whatever these are.  These guys were way out there, and I had to zoom past my usual optical zoom to a setting that risks a lot of blurring to get this much of a shot, so I took almost a dozen, just in case. A couple weren't too blurry.

There were a very few scattered trumpeter swans and sandhill cranes, no visible mallards, loons, or geese in the usual locations.  I embarked on a lot of driving and map checking trying to locate that alleged eagle platform. The osprey platform I'd seen occupied by two parents on my last trip here was still in place, and had earlier been raising this year's family. I saw no activity this time and have no idea if drought means harder hunting, or fishing was great until recently and all have already left the nest safely. Compared to the usual numbers I see here, I'm sceptical of a lot of breeding success this year. 

Come to think of it, most summers I can't drive  or sit with windows down or the car fills with  flies and other tiny pests. It hasn't been an issue this summer. It's been so pleasant it took a while to notice the lack.

A lot of driving produced a lot of nothing, with three exceptions. One dried up bowl with a mostly grassy bottom except for that last bit of black mud, the last to completely dry out,  now had several turkey vultures in it, the same place I shot a few photos of a larger flock of them several years ago when it was also this dry. 

Another basin, very large and mostly mud with a couple dribbles of water, held a generous and very shy collection of both egrets and blue herons. No photos were possible as the very tinniest movement of my car set them all in flight. Stopping set more up ahead in flight. Dang!

The third  sighting was on a road I'd never explored yet, along the eastern boundary of Crex. I came around a corner, slowly of course, being the optimist I am, and on the right edge of the road were three sandhill cranes. They started to walk across the road, right to left, and I stopped to grab my camera, wondering if it would be worth the effort , as I'd have to both shoot into the sun and through the windshield, and they were striding steadily out of my view. I got my camera up in time to catch wing curves above tall grass tips as they disappeared. Two sets only. There had been three birds, all adult sized, the first two the red brown from preening dirt through their feathers. The third one was very light in color, and as I watched in in the five seconds or so I had before they also disappeared into tall grasses below a bank holding a pond and even more grasses, showed itself to be white, not brown or cream as I'd first thought, with the outer half of its underwings being black!

WTF? Do sandhills come in that color? If it weren't for the size my initial mental correction of its ID was pelican, like some I'd seen months earlier in a different corner of the refuge. But it wasn't small enough, as the first sight of the three birds together said that all were cranes. I took my mystery back with me to the visitor center, along with my questions, and pointed out on the map specifically were I'd sighted... whatever. I'd been paying careful attention to my location since there is a tangle of roads on that side, and I wanted to be able to return to the eagle platform easily if indeed I was in the right location. As for eagles, I never found the platform. I did exit the tangle of roads smoothly, despite mulling what that third bird had been. 

I'm not too disappointed about that platform, at least not right now. I GOT MY EAGLE SHOTS!  Of course, I believe those are technically outside of the official bounds for where photos have to be taken to be permitted in the photo contest... by a few feet. Sighhhhh.....

At least there's nearly a year before submissions for the next contest. I figure there'll be a couple hundred new shots by then, of whatever.

Monk's Hood

 Somebody somewhere decided that August was the month where all the networks could take time off and play old stuff for the 97th time, or send you the overlap of end of summer season sports with pre-game  fall sports. 

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ......  

We're just not into TV sports around here, unless it's certain parts of the Olympics, or one of the two favorite football teams of Steve's: Vikings or Broncos, each representing a state he lived in many years. Even the usual multi-show-per-day runs of old TV shows have mostly disappeared, or cut off wherever you were watching and replaced by something different before the series ended and/or resolved.

I suppose it's a good thing it's transplanting time, eh? Or at least that there's a home library full of books read so long ago that most of the details are again surprises. I know I've read every single volume in there, and find it weird when I have to ask myself "who was that character?" or ""whodunit?" or even "did that happen in a character's life before or after this other thing?" so that makes rereading worth it. There had to be a reason I kept the series or even single books.

PBS did a replay on the Driftless Area along the Mississippi in south Minnesota and a bit further. I'd never seen the program, and didn't know how special it was for being an area skipped by glaciation. I knew, for example, that the river bluffs by Red Wing were about the only place in MN where poisonous snakes lived, in this case the timber rattler. There's a lot to say here (watch that show next time!) but just one part of it is what this post is about: a plant called Monk's Hood. It grows there too.

I'd been introduced to it during my first trip to Alaska with my mother-in-law Lylah a few years before she died. It was one of those marvelous trips that retired teachers get good deals on. We flew up from MSP to Fairbanks, went on bus tours in that area, mostly educational including learning about salmon fishing the old traditional way, or showing us the damage to buildings from melting permafrost before zoning laws required special insulation at ground level, not for the building but for protecting the permafrost! As long ago as that was, I suspect even those precautions are less useful these days. From there we headed south to Denali for a day, rode a train to Anchorage with a top transparent dome where we could see the bald eagles in the treetops at our level as we sped past, and eventually boarded a bus down to Seward for a cruise along the Inside Passage with daily stops for tours like whale watching, or seeing other animals in their habitat,  before a flight back to MSP. It was totally amazing and I fell in love with Alaska... in summer. Winters in MN are still enough winter for me. 

All in all, I loved Alaska enough that years later I went again, this time with a son and granddaughter, and a much more modest set of tours.

During that second trip, noted because of finally having a digital camera along, resulting in the below photos, we were introduced to native plants, including Monks Hood. The first, middle, and last thing we were taught, repeated very firmly because, you know, ignorant  adventurous tourists, was DO NOT TOUCH THE MONK'S HOOD!!! If you happened to touch it, wash thoroughly and ASAP. In the meantime, do not touch your eyes, any food, or get your hands near your mouth. It sounds extreme, until you understand two things: how lovely and unique a flower it is, and how deadly every part of it is. And of course, we were ignorant tourists, not close to a hospital in the middle of Denali, and our guide was responsible for not killing us, as much as he was able to prevent it. For some of us with cameras, it was a challenge, since it doesn't hold itself where all parts are easy to see, being meant only to be crawled into from the bottom by the right pollinator.

This is how lovely the flower is from a side view, how innocuous it seems, how touchable. Those of us on the trip mostly only had experience with garden flowers that wouldn't hurt you, unless anybody perhaps was used to desert plants with all their spines. Of course these have no spines, and the temptation to get a close sniff for perfume,  or even pick one can be overwhelming, even in somebody else's wildflower garden.

The driftless area has its own version of monk's hood - or perhaps it's a seasonal change in color. Front on, the center of their version of blossoms is white. The Alaskan version is black.

Yes, this photo does show our guide's hand behind the blossom, angling it so we could see the heart of it without touching it ourselves. Yes, he did take proper precautions like that fuzzy small stick, and explained them to us several times. We took the warning to heart, but were still able to get the photos we wanted. He was patient, because of course if he didn't help us get the "right" pictures, we'd be back on our own. They don't hire dummies for those jobs.

(Now if you REALLY manage to tick one off, it might appeal to their sense of humor to "explain" that the reason the grizzly bears in Denali Park have blonde fur is because they are tame and cuddly. Personally, I'd treat your guides very well!)

But it all leaves me one burning question. Are the two plants the same? Is the white vs. black a part of the life stage changing, like attracting a special pollinator vs. producing seeds? Is the one in the driftless area as deadly as the one in Alaska? No precautions were shown in the PBS program, so aren't they needed? Or were the team filming the plant taking reckless precautions?  We're just not used to having to take precautions to not touch plants around here, unless it's a very spiky rose, or poison ivy, and that "merely" raises a rash... for most of us. If we are wary with strange plants, it's mostly just a thought not to eat them (or their berries) unless proven safe. Nobody thinks to ask why is there no Monks Hood in everybody's gardens, because nobody sensible keeps it there to remind us it even exists.

Twist Of Fate

We tend to expect our oldest to die off first, then the next generation, and so on. Of course we know life and death don't work like that. Young hopes are dashed while our elders are left bereft. Let me tell you about a friend of mine.

Her name is Rosemary, and I met her about a decade ago down in Arizona. Other long term friends from  many years introduced me to her back when we all were gathered on a busy Sun City street corner protesting on Saturday mornings for peace. My best friend Joan from back in Minnesota, whom I met at the same support group where I met Steve, was a member of Grandmothers For Peace. Her husband Bob was also a friend from way back then. We each wound up post retirement a suburb away from the other couple, Sun City, and Sun City West. Together they organized the protests, provided signs and banners which they hauled back and forth for us to choose from, much simpler than figuring out your own slogan and toting it around in a tiny car with a folding chair, then emptying it out again until the next protest.  One didn't have to join something to protest, but I liked the cause as well as the people, and did my best to get passing drivers to "Honk For Peace" like my favorite sign invited them to. I personally honk and wave at all protestors I pass these days, as none of them are promoting hatred or meanness or wars. Sometimes I join them, like for "No Kings", and I'm one of the ones waving to the honkers... again. We'll just not have those long conversations during and after again.

Bob and one other man joined us grandmothers, and were part of the "Grandfather's Auxiliary". I never knew whether that was a "thing" or not, but the more the merrier. I met lots of people in the process. Most of us brought our favorite comfortable folding chair, some water since this was the Phoenix area, and a willingness to protest for a couple Saturday morning hours twice a month before going to brunch together, though some of the fitter members preferred to stand or walk. During the time I used a scooter to get around, before getting my knees replaced, I would join one of the men going around the intersection, corner to corner, waiting at each next corner for another green light. It was a busy enough intersection that we were never in a hurry or at risk, due to long lights. If you're ever at 99th and Bell Road, you'll see what I mean. We won't be there of course.

This is part of our regular group, a shot taken by a reporter for a story she was working on. She sent a copy of the photo for us to have. Joan and Bob are standing on the right, I'm sitting in front of them. It wasn't a day Rosemary made it to join us.

I'm the only snowbird in this photo.  Another snowbird at that time, Rosemary, was a very part time member, based in Michigan in warm months, back south for winters. She wasn't always free from family's and her own health complications to join us regularly. We got to chatting one day. I told her about selling my house to my son on a Contract for Deed, and all the different considerations and particulars. One of the best parts, for both of us (because she did it too after getting my information and talking with her own lawyer) was a clause in the contract where we'd have a bedroom in the northern house in summer months, with access to the house and yard, and during that time would pay our son (in both cases) something for the increase in utilities while we stayed there. It was the best of both worlds, not your standard mortgage, but lawyers wrote in safeguards for both sides that all agreed to.

Over the years I found out more about Rosemary. She was a concert pianist, and still put on occasional programs as well as performed for her church, as age and health allowed. I was given tickets to one performance, which I loved, and met her husband who didn't join our protests. His health didn't tolerate it, even if most of it was sitting, chatting, and waving.

It was about five years later when covid struck. Activities screeched to a halt, including our protests with the brunches following them where most of the socializing happened. I heard that one of her sons, a doctor, died from the pandemic. She and her husband relocated in Sun City year round into a senior apartment complex which offered lots of assistance... until he was gone as well. From there she lived together with her remaining son so he'd be around to assist his Mom. He was also the local computer guru that everybody could call for non-Apples with issues, and I got reports of excellent work. While her health improved enough to perform occasionally again, she still wasn't completely independent. Shortly after that we moved back north for good, with occasional emails our only communication.

During those years before we moved back north, our friends Bob and Joan died. He simply dropped while walking into a lawyer's office to adjust some financial papers. that never happened of course.  Something over a year later she entered hospice and I kept the friendship as long as she could appreciate visits. They were the heart of the group and it never came together again. We lost track of nearly everybody, aside from the occasional missive online from Rosemary. I'd reply, bringing her up to date on our news, sending photos occasionally, sometimes passing along jokes or cartoons.

It's her last email which broke my heart. Her last son, the youngest who'd moved south years before to live near her, then with her after his father died, had a fall, hit his head, and never woke up. This is the man who planned to take care of his mother as long as she needed him. 

Sometimes life is both fickle and cruel. I wonder how she'll deal with this last loss. It's not just the grief and loneliness. Will there be enough funds to make sure she's cared for properly, somewhere she has friends already, perhaps? That's what I wish for her, for as long as she wishes it for herself. Above all, I wish her as much peace as she can find. Good music too, of course, whether from her hands or others.

Since we communicate via email, I have no address to send flowers or even a card. I'd lost track about two moves ago. I did my own message for her, and then added one of my recent photos of a delicate flower, in both form and color. As I wrote to her, any real ones I might send would wither and have to be thrown. This one would stay the same as long as she wanted it to.

I don't expect somebody to come along and send out a final email to her large group list of email  friends. How would they know to? I'll just have to keep in touch and someday there won't be an answer. In this world of electronic communication, I expect it will happen for all of us. From what I have known about her and from her in the years we've known each other, I'm confident she'll head to wherever the music is and offer her skilled hands once more. She'll play that celestial keyboard sure that others will value her gift the way they have here through her many years, and know that they valued her for herself as well - her giving heart, her gentle humor, her kindness, her determination.

Not "Goodbye"... Yet

I'd thought this would be my last visit to my shoulder surgeon this morning. There was my third post-op visit this long after the first shoulder got fixed. That's when we planned the second shoulder. This one was the same length of time after surgery for a final visit  as one was after my other shoulder got fixed. But surprise! He wants to see me somewhere between 6 and 9 months after both are fixed - that's one visit, not one each - so he can evaluate my overall progress now that both are done. 

Is there a difference in recovery? Any difference in procedure? Differences in my life which yield different results? Unless there is some kind of problem, I figure this could be more about what he learns to use in his next procedures than how I'm doing. Besides, I won't be fully healed from either until over a year has passed. Things are good. Just not finished.

I did demonstrate my flexibility for him in how well I could do (or not as it turns out) an old favorite arm move from my belly dancing days called the Egyptian Sun Sign. Arms extended down your sides, palms in. Go from straight down, to out in a circle at the sides, where you gracefully flip your hands to face up, to complete  the circle up over your head. There hands smoothly face each other, arms and fingers straight up, palms touching. Each move is an undulation, one of the hardest simple things for some people to learn. For me it was easy.

Slowly bring them down along the front of you undulating the hands alternating their positions, until they are fully down, when you move them into some other position, or just repeat a sun sign. Depends who is choreographing. (In the classes I took, our instructor choreographed a group dance for each of our end of term  recitals. We each worked out out own solitary performance. ) The entire move is slow, continuous, and sensual, not jerky. (I see modern videos looking like some modern American jazz fest.) I hadn't done it since my 30s when I had it perfected. A recent try a couple years back declared both shoulders incapable. I had to try it again now. There's hope of completing one properly with some work. They won't go straight up yet, but at their highest stick out forward.  That would never do! But what a reason for regular home PT!

He sent his assistant in to schedule something for me as a final appointment. We all understand this is more of a reminder to set an actually keepable, final appointment, what with how life tends to change these days for all of us. Do you know how and where you will be in another 9 months? I don't. I can, however, make some major guesses about the weather. That kind of decision ruled when I chose shoulder #2, going for warm weather and easy clothing to fight with.

The 6 month gap puts us into February. Pretty easy to plan on ice and snow for a long drive, even longer since his practice is moving shortly, and the office visit will be nearly as far away across the metro as the surgery was. So we looked at 9 months. May sounds like a good choice. No ice likely on the roads. I don't mind the drive per se. I hate driving on ice when not necessary. Hell, I hate it even when it IS necessary. There are still too many Minnesota idiots out there who can't keep the thought in their heads that in the absence of friction, INERTIA ALWAYS WINS! The first major snow of the season usually sets a few of them straight... again... for a bit. But by February, any little thaw fools the fools into thinking they have traction back, wherever they go, and can stop on that proverbial dime even if that dime is stretched out for half a mile. Hey, I know my money doesn't stretch that far! Does yours?

Hmmmm, wonder if any of them are in finance, spending their days convincing normal people that money always grows? I can see the parallels in the thought processes, as well as the predictability of them being correct... not!

May sounds better and better. By then the idiots tend to rely on DUIs and texting to maintain their idiot driver status. I ought to have enough traction by then to get out of their way.