Category Archives: nature

Vancouver, USA Summer Spots (Walk #1)

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I came across a local “summer challenge” run through an app that is designed to encourage participants to get outdoors and explore the area. There are 20 sites listed, and if I verify (through the app’s gps) that I have visited 15 of the 20 locations by August 31st, I get entered into a drawing for prizes.   

My walking companion Chules and I have visited and “checked in” at five of the locations so far. I’m going to share with you some of the beauty of my area through a series of posts and photos of our outings.  My first destination, in Ridgefield, Washington:

Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge

Oh, I forgot… Chules didn’t get to come on this walk. No dogs allowed in the refuge. But I had the good company of one daughter and three grandkids.

The Oaks-to-Wetland trail winds through large native Oregon white oak trees and other lush foliage (including some carefully marked poison oak), and along a lake with excellent opportunities for bird spotting.

Photo: poison oak

Then the trail opens up into tall grass and climbs away from the wetlands.

We didn’t make it all the way around the loop. Hot weather and a two-year-old who was due for a nap prevailed. Maybe next time.

One down, 14 more to go.

spitting on the fire

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With July’s record-breaking high temperatures here, it’s been frustrating and – truth be told – rather depressing to watch flowers in my native plant garden wilt before reaching full bloom and then turn end-of-summer brown without setting seeds.

What happens, I wonder, if annuals can’t reseed themselves? What happens if birds and other critters have no seeds to tide them through the coming winter? What happens when spring pollinators show up and find but a few flowers to feed upon?

I do what I can for my small domain. I water the roots of my plants; can’t do much for the sunburned leaves. This fall I will plant more natives. In the winter I will feed the birds. Next spring, I will build a fountain of some sort to provide reliable water for thirsty creatures passing through my yard.

Sometimes my efforts feel quite satisfying, like I’m giving back to the planet. Lately, it just feels like someone trying to extinguish a forest fire with spit.

leather brown leaves curled

fists shaking at the August sun

give us a reprieve

dVerse haibun Monday: August

Last Pic of June, ’21 (and May)

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For Bushboy’s Last on the Card challenge.

“The rules are simple:

1. Post the last photo on your SD card or last photo on your phone for the 30th June.

2. No editing – who cares if it is out of focus, not framed as you would like or the subject matter didn’t cooperate.

3. You don’t have to have any explanations, just the photo will do

4. Create a Pingback to this post or link in the comments

5. Tag “The Last Photo”

The last pic I took in June (yesterday):

And I forgot to post May’s last photo:

Both photos taken with my iPhone 8Plus.

Summer Solstice

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The first day of summer dawns hot and dry; not like it used to here in the moderate Pacific Northwest of my youth. The air outside is stifling, so I stay indoors listening to the hum of the fan and worrying about the young plants in my nature garden. The shrubs and berries and grasses – all native to this area – are not supposed to need supplemental watering because they are acclimated to thrive in their natural environment.

But this climate, altered to unnatural heat and drought, is not what Mother Nature signed on for when she gave us the delicate mosses and ferns, the soft evergreen needles, the supple, shiny leaves of shrubs like snowbrush and Oregon grape.

This evening a breeze will pick up and give at least the illusion of coolness to the air. I will visit the garden to make sure the ladybugs, bees and butterflies have water in the little pool I made for them. And I will utter an apology on behalf of my species for the damages this planet has endured. The rain, when it comes, will be happily welcomed.

Imperceptibly,

summer solstice pendulum

pauses, shifts, recedes.

dVerse haibun Monday: Solstice I