Krampus Kronos

Charlotte and I were tickled with this fun portrait of our lizard from Andria!  Kronos is about 4 or 5 years old.  He/She (technically he's male) has lived in this enclosure we built for him for a little over a year now, and seems to be liking it.  A few weeks ago I added this planter pot of native rye grass to the ecosystem.  We have been experimenting with different grasses that can tolerate the peculiar conditions of the lizard enclosure (blood grass is also one we've had success with).  On Christmas day Kronos decided finally to get up close and personal with the new furniture... "Eye-to-Rye" you might say!  Haha ha.  

Seriously though, it did make me very happy to see her poking her snout into it and "sniffing" with her tongue repeatedly, even if it was completely flattened afterwards!  I gave it a little fluffing up and it wasn't too much worse for the wear.  We saw this behavior repeated at least once since then.  An active, curious lizard is a healthy lizard.

After breakfast and exploration, it is time to bask!  Kronos meanders over to her favorite basking spot atop this wood tunnel.  (She's just beginning a shed here.  You can see some peeling under her ear hole and also a dull patch on her left flank that began flaking off in a large patch a day or two later.)

 

Wave Watching

 

    We were able to get away to the coast last weekend, near Mendocino, to a town called Little River.  We stayed in adjacent units to Charlotte's parents, who had invited us on the trip.  It was a super relaxing break from the repetition of the Pandemic lifestyle.  We hardly had to interact with other people at all, as it is the middle of winter (albeit a gorgeously sunny one) and not the most active season there.

    We spent many hours on the deck overlooking the ocean, which was excitingly turbulent and powerful.

 

    We stayed at an inn called the Heritage House, which was very nicely landscaped in that half-cultivated/half-wild way, utilizing many native species, as well as Grevillea, Echium, and other coast-tolerant, drought-tolerant shrubs from abroad.

                                                            Looking south down the coast:

                                       

And out over the crashing waves, which gently rattled the rooms when they beat on the rocky sea caves  along the cliff below us.

                                      

There was a gazebo perched very photogenically on a little point that jutted out into the sea.

Looking inland from the gazebo (which was under renovation--I TRIED not to be too devestated by this).  The inn has multiple units spread along the cliffside.  We occupied the two rooms on the lower level of this building:

                                         

This hummingbird was often seen sitting on these dried stalks of past Matilija poppy flowers, keeping watch over his territory, including its most coveted nectar of grevillea.

  

Bella also was able to enjoy the Good life with us, chomping on wood burls and lounging in the ocean air.

On our first morning we were excited to finally visit the Pygmy Forest at nearby Van Damme State Park.  We had been wanting to stop there on previous Mendocino trips, but hadn't, so it was nice to finally see what the heck a pygmy forest looks like.

    The Pygmy Forest is actually sort of like a terrace, with 3 or more tiers of very flat land climbing up from the coastline.  The nature of these geological plateaus, which varied from 200,000 to 300,000 to 500,000 years old, is such that they do not receive soil deposits from rain water runoff.  Instead, rainfall tends to sit in a bog-like fashion, leeching most of the nutrients from the soil, as well as acidifying it, and also creating an iron hardpan layer, further entrapping the moisture.

As a result of these effects, the plantlife is stunted and plants like the pines, manzanitas, and rhododendrons that inhabit the area are smaller in stature than we are used to seeing them.  I guess it was kind of hard to capture what makes the forest feel so peculiar when you walk through it along the little boardwalk that protects the soil from erosion.  It is simultaneously boggy and dry in appearance, with a lot of light penetrating its miniature canopy.

Even the forest floor was full of petite curiosities, like the fun fluff of lichen that looked to be frothing amongst the Salal branches.

Charlotte and I of course had to stop frequently to admire the lovely Manzanita and Madrone along the trail.  And equally predictably, we engaged in an agreement with the most handsome specimens to collect their seed and sow it back at home.

Some brightly colored winter foliage:

As we continued our hike out of the pygmy land and into some more conventional coniferous territory, we began to see some interesting mushrooms, like this little leaf-dweller. . .

And some species, like this Suillus, that were familiar to me from my hikes up in Oregon's coniferous forests. . .

. . . As well as what look to me like another of the Pacific Northwest's ubiquitous fungi, some type of Russula. . .

And this fine coral mushroom which we almost missed noticing while taking pictures of the pair of toadstools posed behind it.

The trail had transitioned into more of a redwood-dominated hillside, where we sat to eat in a beam of afternoon light.  Selene had sent us with a delicious and hearty quinoa salad for lunch.

We left the forest and returned to the open sunshine, stopping on the drive back to take in the view from an overlook:

Back at the inn, the descending sun illuminated the ocean's salty spray and we prepared for a sunset show.

Bella, also disappointed about the out-of-commision gazebo, but trying not to show it:

These pretty iceplant flowers had a unique color to them. . . Perhaps stained permanently the palette of Pacific Ocean sundown?

Cypress, I believe:

I was excited to see these dudleyas clinging to the edge of the cliff, having just purchased a very similar-looking plant from the nursery labeled "North Coast Dudleya", purportedly a variety endemic to one cove along California's coast.  Unfortunately, I have heard that there is a global demand for this family of succulent (I believe as houseplants?) and they are often poached from the wild.

Well, it was a delightful excursion.  I am thankful to have been able to get out of town and out to some of the most beautiful scenery that I know of, and to take in the sights, sounds, and fresh air with my sweetheart, as well as Hal, Selene, and Bella-boo.

Cheers!

Pt. Reyes and the Winter-that-Wasn't

 Charlotte and I took a day trip to Pt. Reyes and did a little hike around Heart's Desire beach which is on the Tomales Bay side.  It was a beautiful day, sunny and tranquil.

Looking out across the bay, some Common Mergansers were cruising back and forth.

Charlotte's ankle is doing much better since her sprain a few weeks ago and we hoped a gentle hike would aid the muscle rebuilding process.  The trail we walked hugs the hillside along the bay and is covered by some beautiful canopies of Bay Laurel, Madrone, Live Oak, etc.  There were also many varieties of berries, including Huckleberry and Salal--common sights in the Yachats, OR area.

The moss on these Bay tree trunks caught the light quite nicely.

This bird was poking around this lichen, perhaps finding some source of food in it?  Some birds use these "Old Man's Beards" for nesting material, but it didn't appear to me to be the case here.

Someone had gotten creative with some sea shells tucked into crevices of tree trunks. They fit right in beside the local shelf fungi.

At first I thought this was a weird oak, but then I remembered it is Garrya elliptica, or "Coast Silk Tassel", beginning to bud.  We had planted one at the house a little over a year ago and we watch it grow very excitedly, dreaming of the day it will rise over our heads and cascade down its glamorous strands of flowers.  Silk Tassel is a large bushy shrub, and it is dioecious, meaning plants are either male or female, each possessing different flowers.  The "tassels" occur on the males.  I don't believe I've actually seen one in flower in Real Life before... only pictures.  But I suppose if I came back to this spot in a month or so, I'd be in for a treat!

There was much of this Salicornia (aka "Sea Pickles" or "Sea Beans") growing beside the stream which fed into the salty bay water.  Salicornia is halophytic, meaning it grows in salty water.  I was surprised to learn that it is in the same biological order as, not only cacti and ice plant, but also beets (have you ever tasted raw beet greens that were really salty?), amaranth, and carnations!  Wow. 
Charlotte recognized the plant from when she had harvested it for a restaurant back in the day when she was living in nearby Sausalito.  We snacked on a few sea beans and picked a couple handfuls to take home and use in a salad perhaps.

It apparently develops a red hue in the winter; very striking against the clear blue sky -- ooo la la.

It's October Already

Jeepers!  A lot has happened in the last month or so.  For starters, the garden is a bit neglected, although mature enough to carry on without much human aid.  I make occasional stops within its confines to glean some cherry tomatoes, beans, basil, or a palm-sized second-round melon.  The hummingbirds make more frequent stops in the mornings and evenings, sampling the many fine nectars offered within.

I think of this as my gardener's interpretive take on the year:

Melons, Melons, Melons, and Birthiversaries were had, but none over 29.

The melons are Ha'Ogen, a variety I grew last year and really enjoy, and the tomatoes are Pineapple Pig tomatoes, which ripened pretty much all at once around September 19, the date of this picture:

Did someone say birthdays?  I had a very pleasant one with my dear Charlotte and her parents, Selene and Hal, and my mom and Mark.  We grilled hamburgers and Charlotte made this exquisite, star-spangled poached pear almond cake, sure to launch any taster's buds deep into the Sparkleverse on a journey of self-knowledge and universal awakening... but that's just my opinion.

In other news, Theodore Winkles has adapted well to domestic cat life.  A friend pointed out a certain celebrity resemblance he possesses. . .

Charlotte and I took a delightful stroll through Skyline on a remarkably clear-skied and pleasant day.

Fitting the mood for the month of October, there were many photogenic skeletons of Manzanitas burnt in the 2017 wildfires.  The basal regrowth of fire-resistant plant-life such as madrones stood around 2 - 3 feet tall, for the most part, creating an image of a relatively barren hillside compared to the dense expanse of chaparral scrub brush it once was.  We'll see how it looks in another 3 years. . .

Old rock walls which I believe the Napa State Hospital made long ago to contain sheep as part of its patient rehabilitation program.

Me and my boo:

Well, that's a visual summary of my Autumn thus far.  There has been much else going on (indeed, too much these days), but these were some highlights, to be sure.  

Until next time. . . take it easy!