It's awfully cold here these days to not have any snow.
As a somewhat frenetic substitute, I can offer these flurries of snow geese and Ross's geese we saw at the Bosque del Apache at the end of last year. We were fortunate to see multiple mass ascensions and spotted some blue morphs among the others.
I took the stills, and my husband took the videos. (You may want to adjust the volume on your computer before you play them.)
Hope you have a joyous weekend despite the chill.
Despite my earlier posts, I'm pleased to not have snow this Christmas. Recent storms have caused such tribulation for the East Coast, I feel blessed to have reason to run my air conditioner this week. Ice-free roads have also been a welcome sight. On Sunday I drove 14 hours from Las Cruces, New Mexico, to move home.*
I met many nice people out there and learned a lot about xeric plants, among other things. One plant that I became particularly fond of is the desert Christmas cactus, Cylindropuntia leptocaulis
In Houston we see more of the softer Schlumbergera Christmas cactuses, but this one is equally festive. It's upright and slender like a cholla but has blooms and fruit that resemble miniature prickly pear blooms and tunas. They ripen and turn red late in the year, in time for Christmas.
I didn't bring any of these home, but our Christmas "tree" came from the Chihuahuan desert.
Tumbleweeds are delightfully portable.
Merry Christmas!
*I haven't mentioned this before because it was rather awkward, but I have been living primarily in a small apartment in New Mexico since the end of July. My husband was on a spontaneous work rotation out there, and I traveled back and forth irregularly during that time. All the posts I made about my home garden were accurate, but you may have noticed that I didn't mention too many fall plantings or other projects. I can't wait to get my hands dirty with spring planting. Long-distance gardening is quite a challenge.* Wednesday night the forecasts called for snow, by Thursday morning that had changed. Weather expert Stan Blazyk of the Galveston Daily News writes that it can't be completely ruled out yet, but "there are many unknowns."
Update 12/11: The Chronicle's SciGuy is now reporting on the potential for additional snow in the Houston Area.
Gambel's Quail in New Mexico last week
I missed the last snow because I was in New Mexico again. (I'll explain why pretty soon.) But two different extended Houston forecasts tonight, Wednesday, give high chances of snow for December 18th or 19th! I know extended forecasts are unreliable, but I'm excited anyway. Since it might change, I figure I ought to enjoy the possibility while I can.
It snowed on us in New Mexico last week, and it was really pretty, but I'm dying to experience snow at home. I've missed the last three of three.
In 2008 when we were away during the snow, our plants didn't get much damage at all. This time we had a lot of leaf damage, but only some herbs, peppers, begonias and coleus were total losses. The top survivors were shrimp plants, crotons, and camellias. They look every bit as content as before the frost.
Still alive but begging to be put out of its misery: A bed of lantana in our front yard looked spray-painted black. I've been wanting to replace it, and this was the motivation I needed. I dug them up today.
The red leaves are from our sweet gum.
I'm back now, and, whoo-ee, I have a lot to show you.
Last week at the Bosque del Apache near Socorro, New Mexico, hundreds of people gathered to celebrate a spectacular yearly event: The visit of thousands of sandhill cranes that spent their summer in Canada.
The cranes start to arrive along the Middle Rio Grande Valley in late October, but their numbers grow more impressive toward the end of November. We visited the bosque (Spanish for forest) after the cranes began to arrive but before the other twitchers (British for birdwatchers) became too numerous. That meant that we missed some wonderful activities at the yearly Festival of the Cranes. Even so, it was very special to have so little human traffic during our time there. The roads in the refuge are unpaved, so dust can be an issue, in addition to the more common ones, such as noise.
As we stopped to photograph one group, another group would come from elsewhere.
Sometimes they landed as gracefully as any bird I've ever seen.
At other times, it was difficult to tell what was happening.
Once they were on the ground, they seemed as comfortable as if they were our hosts. Sometimes they even walked along with us on the road. (Okay, they were usually walking ahead of us, but they usually seemed at ease.)
My favorite part about my experience of them, however, was their calling to each other.
You can hear them in this video taken by my husband:
(We also have an HD widesreen version on YouTube.)The cranes are the star attraction in the Bosque del Apache this time of year, but we also saw many other fascinating birds and other creatures. Stay tuned for swarming snow geese, demure quail, vibrant pheasants, and much more.
Can anyone guess which wildlife refuge I just visited?
I'll post much more about it in coming days.
_________________________________________________________________
In response to Cheybean:
They're coots and geese in the above photo. Cranes were in the area
too. And there is an upcoming festival to celebrate the arrival of the
cranes.
The New York Times reports that a farmers market has been approved near the White House. Just weeks ago President Obama expressed a desire for a nearby market at an interactive health care strategy meeting. The opening of the market is a natural follow-up to the installation of the White House kitchen garden and is part of the growing trend toward accessible agriculture across the country.
The most important elements in a farmers market are quality produce and proximity to your kitchen. At the same time, I think high profile gardens and markets serve an important purpose. Humble and egalitarian concepts such as fair trade and the locovore lifestyle need to be "sold" to the public to spread.
This summer, I visited a high profile farmers market in Denver. Tiri's Garden is a fundraising garden and market near the Denver Convention Center.
A portion of the proceeds from all sales of food and produce go to local children's charities. Workers downtown can have lunch among the flowers and listen to live music.
Ornamental and vegetable beds near the entrance are sponsored by local businesses.
The garden and market serve an aesthetic function downtown in addition to generating funding for children's charities and promoting local produce.
This is very different from my local farmers market in Nassau Bay, which does not have corporate sponsors that I'm aware of. Tiri's Garden may seem gimmicky to some -- it's showy and occupies prime real estate -- but it serves many purposes not addressed by more traditional markets and gardens and is great advertising for gardening in general.
Hand in hand with the growing popularity of farmers markets is the rise of locovore restaurants that exclusively use local produce. It makes sense for chefs to appreciate the benefits of using the freshest ingredients possible. (A chef at the White House is reportedly very involved in the White House kitchen garden and farmers market projects.) When traveling, I make a point of seeking out such restaurants, and I have yet to be disappointed when I find one. Mulvaney's B&L in Sacramento and Duo Restaurant in Denver were highlights of my trips.
Duo Restaurant serves a dish called "farmers market stew." It must vary during different times of the year, but when I had it, it contained carrots, cauliflower, beets, and greens sautee with garlic and ginger. The beets gave the carrots and cauliflower the most beautiful color I have ever seen in a dish. Better still, I never liked beets or cauliflower before, but my entree educated me! As you can see in the photo below of what I took back to the hotel fridge, the beets didn't last long on my plate. (I regret not taking a photo before I dug in.) The vegetables were accompanied by a delicious combination of quinoa, wheat berry, and almond.
Do you know of a restaurant in Houston similar to this one? I would love to know about it. Given the growing popularity of locovorism, I think we'll have one soon if we don't have one already. And maybe the White House will open a restaurant or at least put some recipes online.
We need to keep the momentum in making vegetables cool.
Before a took a brief detour to write about the California
wildfires, which are still on my mind, I promised to show some of the
amazing annuals and perennials in the Denver Botanic Gardens this
summer. Much of the landscaping at the gardens was replicated
throughout the city. The civic center, in particular, exhibited some of
the more dramatic combinations.
"Rudbeckia hirta 'Prairie Sun' Black-eyed Susan" was seemed the most widely used.
Sometimes in containers. Often in fields of color,
combined with celosia, marigolds, zinnias, and salvias of similar intensity.
In
addition to bold color combinations among the flowers, contrast
was created elsewhere by pairing bright blooms with plants of darker
foliage, such as that of this "Pennisetum glaucum 'Purple Majesty'
Pearl Millet".
Its height also contributed to visual interest.
Elswhere in the Botanic Gardens were combinations with a softer touch.
As are salvias and their butterflies.
It was late in the season when I visited, and I felt fortunate to see
the beauties above in their glory. For some beds, it was already time to
change for fall.
A
year ago I had the privilege of visiting two botanic gardens near where
the largest wildfire is burning in California. Very fortunately, both Descanso Gardens and The Huntington have so far been spared damage from the blaze, though Descanso has had to partially close because of air-quality concerns.
Descanso has a dozen unique gardens and features, one of which is the largest collection of camellias in the country. The Huntington is a vast complex (Disney World size) that includes botanic gardens, a research library with rare books, and significant art collections.
One
of the most spectacular gardens at the The Huntington is the 10-acre
Desert Garden, which was begun by Mr. Huntington 100 years ago. Their
annual Succulent Symposium is this weekend.
Unlike the Denver Botanic Gardens, the gardens at The Huntington are not tightly interconnected. Each area is like a separate country -- walking from one to another is like walking across a miniature globe. Even the soil seems to vary drastically from one part of the complex to another.
Firefighters don't expect to have the fire fully contained for another couple of weeks. Let's pray the coming weeks will bring them cool and calm weather.
At the end of last week I wrote that my next post would be about annuals and perennials in the Denver Botanic Gardens. However, a different topic has gripped me this weekend and led me to go out of order in describing my trip to Colorado. The wildfires in California and Utah are pulling at my heartstrings right now, so today I'm writing about our experience with the effects of wildfire when we were at Mesa Verde National Park, after our visit to Denver.
The very afternoon we arrived at the park and checked in at the ranger station, a newly started wildfire was visible just outside the park boundary.
As
I made reservations to visit some of the archeological sites of the
ancestral Pueblo people, rangers were talking about what danger the
new fire might bring the park. "It's under control," one man whispered
to himself. At the same time, the look on his face told me he had seen
fires before, and and that he would not be quickly put at ease.
Fortunately, this fire was under control and, even though we would see
it smolder on into the night, it was put out without having caused too
much damage.
The last wildfire to affect Mesa Verde National Park itself occurred in 2002. Firefighters heroically saved the park structures and the archeological sites. However, the fire succeeded in destroying much of the forest in the park. And because growth is slow in this arid environment, many areas look as if the fire happened much more recently than that.
As
my husband and I visited some of the sites closest to the lodge late
that afternoon, driving past many stretches of burned trees, we saw a
helicopter taking water from the park to dump it on the nearby
fire. That helicopter would be a persistent part of our stay for the
next three days.
Another fire began near the opposite side of the park the next day.
This
one also was successfully extinguished, but the smoke altered our
experience. Relatively small as it was, it affected the air hundreds of
miles away.
The moonrise that night glowed eerily red from the particles released into the air by the fire.
Considering the effects of the small fires we saw: The resources
required to fight them, the range of their influence, and the fear that
they inspired, I can't imagine how much worse it must be for those
facing fierce and vast fires near their homes. What can it be like to
live in a place where the sun and moon rise and set on burned horizons
and smoke fills the air day after day? It's enough to make me grateful
to be from hurricane territory.
Please keep in your thoughts and prayers the people, animals, and vegetation facing wildfires right now.
